The Power of I Love You

Back in May, I met up with Shannon, longtime friend and owner of the blog, the creation of beauty is art.. We usually get together every few months for lunch or dinner and an outing of some sort, even if that outing is a simple stroll around a local mall. It’s a chance to catch up, have some face-to-face socializing, and to simply spend time with a friend. I picked her up, we went glow-in-the-dark mini putting, went for a stroll around a mall, had dinner, and then I dropped her off home again.

As she got out of the car, she said something that made me both smile and stop in my tracks. “I love you.” I love you. Words society reserves only for the most intimate and romantic of relationships were said to me by a friend at the end of a perfectly normal get-together.

For some context, Shannon and I met in a way that almost feels fated. Logically, I know it was coincidence, but there’s a spot of dialogue from one of my favourite shows, BBC Sherlock that runs through my head whenever I chalk something up to coincidence. The dialogue reads as such:

Sherlock: “Could be a coincidence.”
Mycroft: “Oh, Sherlock. What do we say about coincidence?”
Sherlock: “The universe is rarely so lazy.” 

The universe is rarely so lazy.

Shannon and I met briefly in downtown Toronto in May 2004 outside MuchMusic waiting for our favourite band at the time to leave through one of four possible routes out of the studio parking lot. We’d picked the same one, hoped for the best, and then got talking about another of our favourite bands. The band we were there to see didn’t choose our driveway to leave by, and after realizing this, Shannon and I went our separate ways. I headed home, not thinking I’d ever run into her again. I hadn’t even gotten her name. Fast forward to August 17, 2004, and I was, once again, waiting for our favourite band in Toronto. This time, it was for one of their concerts, a general admission show which meant we were going to be waiting all day because the venue was standing room only and the best views were first come, first serve. I left the line to get something to eat, and in the burger place up the street, I ran into Shannon again. We recognized each other immediately, and asked how the other had been. Later on, while we were preparing to finally enter the concert venue, she and I actually started talking. We exchanged emails and MSNs (yes, MSN… yes, I am that old), and thus began what has gone on to be 22 years of friendship. Yes, twenty-two (22!) years of friendship. Our friendship has had its ups and downs, we’ve had disagreements on things (some more important than others), but we’ve always held our friendship above everything else. We have agreed to disagree on minor things, but our morals are pretty much in line with each other’s. We have loved, and walked away from, the same artists – including the band at whose appearances we met. I was at her wedding and hopefully she’ll be at mine if that is in the cards for me. We have been each other’s ears and shoulders when times have been rough. We don’t see each other as often as we’d like to – we live three towns away from each other and only one of us has occasional access to a vehicle – but we talk when we can, usually through Messenger. We both lead busy, sometimes demanding lives, and Messenger allows us the space and opportunity to respond when we have a few minutes. This is especially important when our replies to each other can be three or four paragraphs long and span two or three topics all at once. In the end, our friendship has been solid, and I am grateful to have her in my life.

I have never doubted the love in our friendship. Love is a word we have used in the messages we write in the cards we give each other at birthdays and Christmas. The words, I love you have been written in those messages, too. But, unless my memory is incorrect (which is possible), the end of our most recent outing is the first time I’ve heard those words from her. And this got me thinking.

Did you know that there are languages in which there are multiple words for the English word love? There are also languages in which there is more than one way to say, “I love you”. For example, in Spanish, the phrases te quiero and te amo both mean “I love you”, but to different degrees. The verb quiero means “I want”, but when paired in a phrase like, te quiero, it is a casual, platonic way of saying, “I love you”. Te amo is reserved for those in deep, romantic relationships. And then, there’s Greek, which has six different words for love, and they all mean slightly different things.

Agape – (agápē) is the concept of the love we have for community and deities. It is translated, literally as “affection”, as in “greet with affection” and “show affection for the dead”. In Christian contexts, agape means “love, unconditional love, charity; the love of God for a person and the love of a person for God”. It has also been described as “to will the good of another”. If I interpret this correctly, agape is the love we have for a higher being, those we miss, and the general hope that those in our community are doing well.
Eros – (érōs) is the concept of sexual and erotic love. In Greek mythology, Eros (Cupid to the Romans) is the god of love and sex and is seen as either a primordial god or as the son of Aphrodite. The word eros translates to “love, sexual passion”. The Modern Greek word erotas means “intimate love”, and these words are where we get the terms erotic and erotica from. According to Plato, eros is initially felt for a person, but by extension, it becomes an appreciation of the beauty within that person or an appreciation of beauty itself. This gives rise to the concept of platonic love to mean “without physical attraction”.
Philautia – (philautía) is the concept of loving oneself. The word itself means “self-love”. Self-love can be both positive and negative; loving ourselves enough to treat ourselves in healthy ways or loving ourselves so much we disregard everyone else. This can also be interpreted as self-compassion and as the root of a general kind of love we have for family, friends, and our hobbies and interests.
Philia – (philía) is the love we have for those we see as equals. Our friends (“brotherly love”), our colleagues, our family, our community. Philia means “affectionate regard, friendship”, usually displayed between equals. It is a love that requires all parties to be on equal footing. This word is found in the name of the city of Philadelphia (philíos, “dear, beloved” or phileo, “to love” and adelphos, “brother”. Literally, “brotherly love”). We also find the related philos, “friend, lover” in the given name, Philip. (“Friend of horses”. Philos, “friend, lover” and hippos, “horse”.)
Storge – (storgē) is the concept of the love between parents and their children. It is also thought to describe acceptance or tolerance, of “loving the tyrant”. Hate the sin, love the sinner. By extension, storge can be used to describe one’s love of their country or their favourite sports team.
Xenia – (xenía) is the concept of hospitality, also known as “guest-friendship”. This represents generosity, hospitality towards travellers, welcoming foreigners. The whole hospitality industry is based on xenia.

Six different words to describe different kinds of love. There is some overlap, but the idea of being able to properly name the type of love one has for another person is fascinating to me. I kind of wish English had the same. Maybe then, the idea of saying “I love you” wouldn’t feel so heavy or so intimate.

I wish English also had more than one word for love. Maybe it’s just my experience, but we don’t say those words enough. Maybe it’s because we don’t have multiple words for love that it seems like society has reserved those words to be said between people who are in close romantic and familial relationships. And even for the latter of those examples, it seems like those words are only exchanged when children are young. Perhaps my perception of this is based on my own personal experiences and yours are different. If yours are positively different than mine, that is wonderful. For me, I can’t remember the last time I heard I love you come from those close to me, other than when Shannon said them to me back in May. I know I haven’t heard them since.

In no way am I saying I don’t feel loved by those around me. I feel it when close friends ask “How are you?” and understand the unspoken weight behind my response of, “I am” or “I’m upright.” They know there’s more there that I can’t talk about because of time or place or who else happens to be around. I see it when friends set an evening aside so I can talk about things that have been going on in confidence and privacy. I’ve experienced it in those who stepped forward and supported me during traumatic events – people who have fed me (and made sure I actually ate), people who have told me I am staying at their place because I shouldn’t be alone, people who have walked with me to my car so I didn’t have to do it alone, people who have made sure I haven’t put myself last. These people, if they’re reading this, should all know who they are. Those who have shown up have shown up, and those displays of love have meant more to me than I have probably ever conveyed. And I certainly haven’t forgotten those who have shown up in digital spaces. They are just as important as those who have physically shown up.

The afore paragraph demonstrates that acts of love speak louder than words of love. This has been proven to me time and time again. Still, sometimes, it is nice to hear those words spoken. One of my favourite songs is Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol and there’s a lyric in it that goes like this: “Those three words are said too much. They’re not enough.” I both agree and disagree with this lyric. Or, at the very least, my experience agrees and disagrees. I agree that simply saying “I love you” isn’t enough; I disagree with the notion that it is said too much. For me, it’s not said enough.

So, as you turn your attention from this blog post and back to the outside world, do me a favour? Tell someone you love them. Not just your spouse. Tell your sibling(s), your cousins, tell your friends, heck, tell your pets (my cats, Misty and Acorn, heard me tell them I loved them all the time). Saying “I love you” doesn’t have to be reserved for spouses and parents and children. Platonic love is just as important as romantic and familial love. Tell someone you love them the next time you see them.

And until next time, stay safe, stay well, and keep on keeping on.

I love you.

Catherine

What’s In a Name?

 I am a writer. Primarily, I write fanfiction, but I am also working on a High Fantasy trilogy, and have been for a count of years I will not divulge here. As a writer, I spend a lot of time naming characters, including when I write original characters into my fanfiction, which, admittedly, is something I thoroughly enjoy doing. If you were to take a look through the files and folders for my stories, you would find lists upon lists upon lists of names. I spend hours, days, weeks, finding the perfect names for my very imperfect characters. I choose my characters’ names based on meaning and how that pertains to their character arc, their personality, the role, or roles, they play within the story. I very seldomly start a fanfic or novel until each original character, especially the major ones, are named as perfectly as I can name them. Then, and only then, do I feel confident enough to begin writing.

Why do I spend such time on naming characters? Because names are important. They are the first indication we have as to who someone is. Names are our identities. They inform others of who we are, even if it’s only on a surface level.

Those of you who have been following my blog for a while have probably noticed a significant change at the bottom of the posts. My name. Instead of reading Jen, it reads Catherine. As the weeks and months wear on, you may see it change from Catherine to Cat or Kit as I settle into it.

For those who are curious, my first and second names are Jennifer Catherine. From the time I was about ten years old, I’ve gone by Jen. Before then, I went by Jenny. But that changed when I was teased by a family member who mockingly told me that the term jenny refers to a female donkey. It was said in a way that inferred he was calling me a donkey; he was calling me an ass. From that day on, Jen was my preferred name. I refused to be called Jenny. I have only allowed two people in my life to call me it, though I have very occasionally used it to refer to myself when performing a song that involves the name of the singer. (Think, New Orleans Is Sinking by The Tragically Hip: “She said Gordie, baby, I know exactly what you mean.”) I only ever did this so it would match the rhythm of the lyric. I gave myself permission to do that. During high school, when my friends would hear my full first name, they’d look at me and say something along the lines of, “You’re not a Jennifer; you’re a Jen.” And, to tell you the truth, I felt the same way about my full given name. 

I have a bit of a ‘hold at arms-length’ type of relationship with my given name, and I won’t lie to you – it’s a bit awkward. I love the meaning of my name, but not the name, as a whole, itself. The name Jennifer is the Cornish form of a Norman French form of a Welsh name. (If you’ve managed to follow that, you’re doing well.) It is the Cornish form of the Norman French Guinevere (yes, the Guinevere of Arthurian legend), which itself, is from the Welsh name Gwenhwfar, which means “white phantom”. Further etymology breaks it down to Celtic roots *windos, “white” and *sēbros, “phantom, magical being”. (The asterisks in the Celtic roots mean that these root words are the best guess as to how they’re spelt. The Celtic language, like many ancient languages, was never actually written down, so linguists take their best guess as to what these words would look like were they written down in Latin letters.)

I love what my first name means; I love the whimsy and supernatural, almost Fae connection of the name. However, I’ve always liked my middle name, Catherine, just a little bit more. When I was about five or six, I wanted to go by Catherine, but I didn’t have the agency or support to fully implement it. The adults in my life had all the agency, and six year old me hadn’t yet learned how to stand up for myself. Thus, I continued to go by my first name. I accepted being called it. But, now that I’ve been an adult for 20 years, I have the confidence to ask to be called what I want to be called.

Oh, and for the sake of continuity, I’ll give you the possible origins and meanings of Catherine. Yes, you read that right. Possible origins and meanings. Catherine is the French form and common English variant of Katherine. Katherine is the English form of the Greek name Aikaterine. Now, here’s where the etymology gets a little muddy. Aikaterine may come from the earlier Greek name, Hekaterine, which is itself derived from hekateros, “each of the two.” It could also be related to the Greek word aikia, meaning “torture”, or be from a Coptic name meaning “my consecration of your name”. The final possibility, and arguably, my favourite, is that it could derive from the name of the goddess Hecate (Hekate), Greek goddess of witchcraft, crossroads, tombs, demons, and the underworld. The name Hecate is possibly derived from Greek hekas, meaning “far off”. In the early Christian era, the name Katherine became associated with the Greek word katharos, meaning “pure”, and the Latin spelling changed from Katerina to Katharina to reflect it.

The host of possible etymological origins of Catherine is really intriguing, and, for me, adds depth to the name. Some of those meanings also make sense to me. Catherine is also the first name of my paternal grandmother and great-grandmother. My grandmother went by Stella, the shortened form of her middle name, Estella. While I was emotionally closer to my maternal grandmother, I’ve been emotionally closer to the name that came from my paternal one since I was a child.

So, why the change now? Well, like I stated earlier, I’ve been a legal adult for twenty years, and going by my middle name is something I’ve wrestled with doing for a lot longer. Initially, I was going to make the change on my birthday back in April, but the change ended up happening a bit sooner than that. It happened at the end of March. I brought up the thought of the name change at work to see how much of a hassle it would or would not be to change my preferred name. It was, apparently, easier than I thought it would be. Then, in talking with supervisors, they suggested implementing it sooner rather than later, so the new staff starting this summer could begin their employment calling me by what I wanted to be called. Thus, I started going by Catherine a few weeks sooner than I had initially planned.

So far, things are going well for it. Colleagues that have known me for 6 years have made the adjustment, albeit with the odd slip up, but that’s to be expected. I expect mistakes, and appreciate effort. Friends that I’ve known for far longer than my colleagues have also been making the adjustment well. The owner of the karaoke show company I work with (who I’ve known for 18 years) even did a complete rebrand of my show under his banner, and I am incredibly grateful to him for it. Many of my family members – at least those within my familial generation and younger – have embraced it, and have even corrected those members who have called me – mistakenly or purposely – by my first name. Those in my social circles have embraced it. When I’ve told them that I am now going by Catherine, some have responded with, “It’s nice to meet you, Catherine.” It is a light-hearted thing on their part, and may be their way of introducing themselves to calling me by a different name than what they’re used to. But those simple words have helped me settle into the identity in a way that is hard to explain. It lets me know they have accepted it and are welcoming the new name even though it’s attached to someone they’ve known for a while. There are a few people, mostly close family, who haven’t accepted the name change, but I’m hoping they will eventually embrace it as well.

This change is 30+ years in the making, and it feels good. To be honest, I feel like it’s one of the things that’s helped me feel better than I have in a long time. Names are our identities. They are often given to us by other people; our parents give us our legal names, and friends and siblings give us nicknames. However, names are things we can change. I have friends who have legally changed their names from what they were given to what they want to be called. I have one friend I’ve known since I was 10, and I remember every one of her name transitions before she settled on the one that best suited her. I have friends whose deadnames I no longer remember. We are allowed to change and adapt to life as we go through it. Sometimes, those changes include what we want to be called, how we wish to be addressed. It’s important to embrace that within us, and within others. Identity is important; it’s who we are at our surface and at our core. Changing it is how we can come into our own, and in many ways, I feel like I am finally doing that. And it feels damn good.

What also feels good is spending time on this blog. I know it’s been a couple of months since I last posted, and I apologize. My work-life balance has been leaning more toward work than it has to life and I haven’t been able to spend as much time writing as I would like to without sacrificing more sleep than working two jobs already does. That said, I am hoping to find, or make, more time to write more often, and have these posts published in quicker succession. Hopefully the next post won’t take as long as this one did.

And until that next post: Stay safe, stay well, and keep on keeping on.

Catherine

A Little About Me

So, I started (re-started, technically) this blog about a year and a half ago, and I’ve only just realized that I haven’t really properly introduced myself. I’ve been wracking my brain about how to do this, and I landed on a format reminiscent of those interviews we used to read in TigerBeat and various teen magazines in the ‘90s and 2000s. I wasn’t sure what “questions” I wanted to give myself, so I posed the question to my longtime friend and fellow blogger, Shannon over at the creation of beauty is art.. She gave me quite the list of ideas and I’m grateful for it. I chose a few of hers, added some of my own, and voilà!

Side note: If you’re into makeup, perfume, beauty, inspiring seasonal posts, and everything wholesome, I highly suggest checking out Shannon’s blog. She updates several times a week, and I always love finding out what is inspiring her.

And now, onto the rest of the blog!

Astrological sign:

Sun: Aries; Moon: Gemini; Rising: Virgo.

Does this seem accurate?

Yes. I can be a leader and be impatient like Aries, I enjoy good conversation and can be indecisive like Gemini, and I can be analytical and orderly like Virgo.

What are you currently reading?

I currently have 3 books on the go:

1) His Dark Materials: The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman (published as Northern Lights in the UK);

2) The Chronicles of Narnia: The Magician’s Nephew by C.S. Lewis;

3) Queer Georgians: Hidden History of Lovers, Lawbreakers and Homemakers by Dr. Anthony Delaney (published as Queer Enlightenments: Hidden History of Lovers, Lawbreakers and Homemakers here in North America.)

(You don’t want to see my To Be Read pile…)

What books in your collection best reflect who you are today?

The Lord of the Rings Trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien, The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis, and Queer Enlightenments by Anthony Delaney.

Name the last five songs you listened to:

“Fiddler’s Green” – The Tragically Hip

“Innocent” – Our Lady Peace

“Puppet” – Scotty Newlands

“How You Remind Me” – Nickelback

“Sweet Surrender” – Sarah McLachlan

Do these accurately reflect your current musical taste?

Yes. My music taste is varied and crosses many genres – country, pop, rock, easy listening, classical. These songs are from a recently created playlist consisting of Canadian Content (CanCon). It consists of 417 songs with 26 hours of music. I put it on shuffle; these are the last 5 songs that played the last time I listened to it.

Favourite song:

“The Writer” by Scotty Newlands.

Top 5 songs in my Spotify Wrapped 2025:

“Kiss Away” – Scotty Newlands

“Brother” – NEEDTOBREATHE & Gavin DeGraw

“All These Things That I’ve Done” – The Killers

“I Am Not Okay” – Jelly Roll

“Livin’ Is Easy” – Scotty Newlands

If you could only watch five movies for the rest of your life, which ones are they and why?

The Wizard of Oz – it’s my favourite movie. Ever.

Titanic – it ignited a fascination with the disaster and with shipwrecks. It’s also just a really good movie.

Hamilton – it’s one of my favourite musicals.

The Lion King (original 1994 film) – it’s my favourite Disney film.

Black Hawk Down – I have a vague, living memory of hearing news about the battle the film is about. It’s one of my favourite war movies.

If you could live anywhere in the world for a year, where would it be?

This is a tough one. There are three places that immediately jump out at me.

1) Castlebar, Ireland

2) London, England

3) New York City, New York

Do you have a prized possession?

Yes. A stuffed animal; a grey cat that was given to me by my parents’ coworker when she returned from a trip to England. I named the cat Sandy; I’ve had her since I was three.

That’s it for now! This one was a little short and sweet, but wanted to get something out before my work schedule gobbles up my spare time and energy. I might do another one of these in the future, or perhaps a This Or That kind of thing. What do you think? Do you have any questions you’d like to ask me? Let me know in the comments and maybe I’ll get to them the next time I do a post like this.

And until next time: Stay safe, stay well, and keep on keeping on.

Catherine

Seasons of Colour

One of my favourite songs is Turn! Turn! Turn! by The Byrds. The basic theme of the song — other than the verses being taken from Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 — is that to everything, there is a season.

And to every season there is a colour. I don’t mean the pantone colours of fashion — though those can be fun. Nor do I mean the currently trending “Are you a Deep Winter or a Soft Summer?” — though I’m sure that has helped many a person find what colours look the best on them. No. I’m talking about Mother Nature, colours that the world naturally bathes us in as we traverse through the year. (Though, there may be some man made influences in there, too.)

Let’s start at the beginning of the year when everything is fresh and new and growing. It’s Spring. It’s the latter part of March. The greys of winter still hang overhead, but closer to ground level, nature is waking up. As we traverse through the spring season, this year and all other years, those greys of winter slowly transition to bright greens. Sure, those greens are a little on the grey side because, let’s face it, winter likes to hold onto us with a firm grip for as long as it can, but colour is returning. It takes some time, but out of those grey-greens emerge colours of yellow, pink, orange, red, and violet. Daffodils are one of my favourite flowers because they are the first vibrant signal that the soil is warming up and Spring is here. Their bright green stalks and yellow petals used to adorn one corner of my grandmother’s house and there are several patches of them that grow in the woods at work. Whenever I see their leaves begin to poke through the snow and soil, I know that Spring is officially here and it’s only a matter of time before the daffodils are joined by the arrival of dandelions, tulips, roses, violets, and my favourite flower, lilacs. But let’s not forget about the trees! Yes. While the daffodils are rising out of the remnants of the winter soil, the trees are waking up, too. Deciduous trees like birch, maple, and oak are beginning to bud, and will be followed by the brilliant white and pink blossoms of apple cherry trees. Oak trees will begin to grow acorns that start life small and green, and end life round and brown, and provide food for woodland critters. The evergreens are waking up too. Yes, evergreens, as their name suggests, stay green all year (with a few rare exceptions like the endangered deciduous conifer Dawn Redwood whose leaves turn red in the autumn), but they too begin to change. Junipers and cedars begin to produce small berries that are a primary food source for animals like waxwings, bluebirds, wild turkeys, foxes, and raccoons. Pine and fir trees begin to grow pinecones that red squirrels love to toss into piles on the ground to hoard them in their food caches. Those pinecones start out soft and grey-green before hardening into the brown cones we all recognize as the year progresses.

                              

   

Come June, Spring moves out and lets Summer sublet for a while. Summer’s colours? MORE GREEN! But let’s not forget the yellows of sunflowers, the whites and oranges of lilies, the pinks of peonies, and the hangers on of Spring. Occasionally stormy greys stop by for a visit in the form of thunderstorms, but the brighter hues always return along with the sunshine that provides the fuel for nature to produce the colours she does. The colours of Summer stay pretty tried and true, until eventually Autumn comes knocking with her bracing breezes and vibrant golds and browns. Summer and Autumn tend to cohabitate for a while where I live, much like Winter and Spring, until Summer relinquishes their home and lets Autumn have the place to themself. I live in Southern Ontario, and Autumn here gets pretty vibrant. As a kid, Winter was my favourite season, mainly due to the association with Christmas and getting to spend an evening with family I didn’t see very often. But, as I’ve gotten older, Autumn has taken over as my favourite season. Why? Because, to me, it’s the most vibrant of the seasons. Yes, the flowers are starting to wither and go dormant, seasonal fauna are beginning to migrate south for the winter, and the temperatures are dropping. But the trees. The trees!!! The trees are ablaze in colours of red, orange, and gold. My favourite time of Autumn is when the trees are brightly coloured yet green leaves still cling to the branches. The remaining green adds to the richness of the season in my opinion.

      

Eventually, the array of colour begins to fade, first to brown and then to grey and white. In Southern Ontario, around this time of year, mornings can be foggy, especially in the forested valleys near my home, until the sun rises high and warm enough to burn it off. Those are some of my favourite mornings, especially if I get to walk through the woods at work when enough fog is still in the air and the sun is filtering through it. But, I digress… For some, this combination of brown and grey can give the environment a muddy colour, and I see the validity in that point of view. For me, this muddy colour of mid to late November is merely a transitional period, a mixing palette if you will, connecting the fiery colours of Autumn with the cool colours of Winter.

And fittingly, it is during this muddy period that Autumn finishes up their timeshare and allows Winter to move in. For a few weeks, they share accommodations before Autumn officially (or calendarically anyway) departs and gives Winter free reign to do with the place as they please. And you can be sure that Winter is going to redecorate. They are going to bring in the colours of white, grey, and ice blue with some pine green accents. Those pine green accents never actually get replaced since pine trees are coniferous, and therefore, green all year round (with the exception of one or two species, like the aforementioned Dawn Redwood). And now that Winter has redecorated and fully moved in, many of us in the Northern Hemisphere begin to curl up on our couches with cups of hot chocolate and watch the movies or read the books that bring us comfort. Others venture outside and enjoy winter activities like snowmobiling and skiing, often becoming one with the snowy white environment. Others still take in their surroundings on foot or in their vehicles, enjoying the Christmas lights their neighbours have decorated their properties with. There is a series of five cul-de-sacs in a city about forty-five minutes east of where I live where every house has been professionally decorated with lights and lawn ornaments. A couple of the homeowners set up tins for monetary donations for local charities and bins for food donations for local food banks. Cars are lined up for seemingly kilometres as families take in the lights. This became a short-lived Christmas Eve tradition for my family as it was one of my great-Aunt’s favourite things about the Christmas season. So, if Christmas was held either in the city with these immaculately decorated homes or nearby it, the five of us would pile into a vehicle and go for a drive.

                                

Where I live, Winter can be harsh. It’s a cold, snowy, icy time of year. Cleaning snow off of vehicles and scraping the ice off of the windows is annoying at best and downright impossible at worst.

My tools for snow clearing.
(The shovel is from my father's army kit,
and is older than I am but it still works!)

However, there’s a kind of quiet that only comes when Winter brings it. It’s not an eerie quiet, but rather a peaceful one. Mother Nature’s colours are monochromatic, greyscale, but this allows us room to breathe. Fresh snow is a visual blank canvas, a clean slate if you will. It’s an opportunity to pause, recalibrate, rest. And we can do this because we know that Winter doesn’t stick around forever, and that there is always the promise of a fresh start once Spring moves in again. Many of us begin preparing for that fresh start on January 1st, with the arrival of a new year. Others wait for those daffodils to begin poking through the snow. And neither one of those times is wrong.

Every season, really, brings with it a new palette, new sights, new sounds, new colours, and a fresh opportunity for our own growth. Life is going to life, it’s always going to move forward and drag us along with it. But while it does, we can enjoy the year’s phases and look forward to the things Mother Nature gifts us. Mother Nature knows what she’s doing, and there’s a quiet comfort in that. 

The next time you’re out for a walk in your neighbourhood, stop for a moment and look around. What colours do you see? How do they make you feel? Feel free to tell me in the comments below.

And until next time: Stay safe, stay well, and keep on keeping on.

Catherine

It's Been Awhile...

 …Since I first saw you…

Sorry… couldn’t resist the song lyrics.

But, really, it has been, well, a while. A long while. Over a year. Oof.

I wanted to write more last year. I wanted to be more present. Unfortunately, life has a funny way of derailing even the best of intended plans. Last year, I was continuing to help my mom recover from her shoulder fracture, as well as help her deal with some other health issues that arose. I also had a few minor health issues of my own. Couple all of that with two jobs and the horrible death of my laptop in October 2025, carving out time to write and be here has been tough.

But now, April 2026, I finally have a new laptop. Yes, it took me five months to replace the dead one. Laptops are expensive; especially the ones that best suit my needs as a writer, gamer, and fill-in karaoke host. I was supposed to get a new laptop in January with funds generously gifted to me by family and friends over Christmas, but that money ended up going to a car repair and getting a laptop was put on hold until I got my income tax return. But, I got it, bought a new laptop, and this is the first post written on it.

The lack of a laptop doesn’t mean the blog post ideas haven’t been flowing or that I haven’t been working on things. On the contrary. I’ve been doing some novel outlining (by hand), writing, and thinking about future posts now that I have a functioning laptop again. So, sit tight; there’s a post on the way. I just need to put the finishing touches on it.

To those who have been patiently awaiting a new Life’s Fingerprints Remain post, you have no idea how much I appreciate you. Thank you for sticking around, and here’s to the hope that a lot less than a year passes between this post and the next.

And until the next post: Stay safe, stay well, and keep on keeping on.

Catherine

P.S. Yes, there has been a name change. More on that in a future post.