Dreams of Spring and New Life

Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant.

Robert Louis Stevenson, Scottish novelist and poet (1850-1894)

It has been hard to come up with content for the Chocolate Box over the past week. The cold and the rain and the snow and the grey have created some striking scenes during the week, but none that warmed my heart. Today I visited the blog of a pastor living out in the field and was cheered by the "Fork to Fork" programme that he shared for brightening the spirit on a February morning. Images of bright red tomatoes and rich earth bursting with life was heartening indeed. Spring is not far off!

Mourning and Rejoicing

While we are mourning the loss of our friend, others are rejoicing to meet him behind the veil.

John Taylor, American senator and philosopher (1753-1824)

The spirit of a noble centurion passed gently from our worldly midst last night. We are sad at our loss of this gentleman of great intellect, courage and culture, but his quiet-voiced inspiration to be fine human beings lives on among all who were gifted the opportunity to sit and chat awhile.

♥ Embrace One Another ♥

We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another.

Lucretius, Roman poet and philosopher (c. 99 – c. 55 BC)

Two-year old Beatrice is a little angel: she shared her Valentine's Day cookies with her mom's colleagues causing smiles across the office.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Worlds Apart

Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.

Lord Byron, English poet (1788-1824)

Gazing from the train window I watched a giant orange orb descend beneath the horizon, a silver bird streak across the sky leaving a white comet tail to mark its path, and a sliver of a crescent moon rock above -- all visions held dear from a desert land and shared with the Time Traveller a half a world away.

Snow Day!

I walked abroad in a snowy day;
I asked the soft snow with me to play;
She played and she melted in all her prime,
And the winter called it a dreadful crime.

William Blake, English poet and artist in "Soft Snow" (1757-1827)

We had snowy days when I was a kid, but never "snow days". I wonder when schools starting closing due to heavy snowfall and when the term became so common that it entered the dictionary? Although appearing in the esteemed Oxford Dictionary, it is recognized as a mainly North American term.

My new boss, who is British, may not know the terminology but thankfully he allows for staff to work from home on snowy days rather than commute through blizzard conditions. I went out to help Dad clear the driveway and sidewalk and I haven't been this covered in snow since I was a kid. The amount of snow that has accumulated is quite extraordinary.  Duly impressive is Environment Canada's accurate forecast and issuance of a weather advisory so that we were prepared for it.

Dad is what is called a "Snow Angel": he clears the snow from the driveways and sidewalks of our elderly neighbours.

And then watches as the city's plows fill in the access . . . again and again and again . . . with good humour. I enjoyed my first "snow day". I'm glad that I wasn't in Tee-Oh and that I wasn't in traffic getting there and returning home. Staying home is the best way to enjoy snowy days.

Dawn at Union Station

If a train station is where a train stops, what's a workstation?

Unknown

Winter's dawn breaks above the cloud banks billowing over the lake, just as our train passes the water tower that announces in large letters that we've arrived in T-O-R-O-N-T-O. Ten minutes later, we pull into the grand old dame, Union Station, and the sun is on its tiptoes trying to break through her nightly secrets. All but one of the commuters rush on their way to appointed workstations, unheeding her mystery.