Hope

There isn't a breath of wind this morning, as I sit here in the backyard gazebo, the Sunday sun risen but not yet fully awake, much like myself, and if you care to listen you'll hear the many voices, songs and callings of insects, frogs, birds and Spring.

Mother Nature never works in silence; even in the stillness her legions of progress are busy moving forward, bringing constant change all around us. This morning the frogs and crickets seem to be leading the chorus; though a quiet mind can hear at least a dozen different birds, and the red squirrels are moving now too, back and forth along the highway in the treetops. Each one of them calling to another, working together as they build nests for the natural consequence of Spring.

Fitting then, that in this season and such surroundings, we celebrate Mothers everywhere; those that brought us into this world and raised us as best they could amongst the change and chaos that is Life. Some are born naturals, destined to have children and blessed with the talents and knowledge and energy to do whatever it takes to guide her charges forward; others seem more saddled with the task, slighted somehow by Nature, given the ability but not necessarily all the tools with which to perform; others start out fine enough, but life and circumstance change along the way, and success seems bleak at best.

It's never easy, not for any Mother, the care and concern never go away, if anything they grow stronger and more raw the older the children get, one's ability to protect her offspring lessened with time, but the urge, perhaps need, never diminished. The bonds are tested early and often, strained and repaired again and again, but constant on so many levels. As the children grow and change, they stay the same too, and the overwhelming emotion of Motherhood, Hope, is constant throughout as well, an eternal beacon on those darkest nights, a welcome refuge when needed most.

The songbirds are still singing, though there is now a rumble of manmade sounds off in the distance, the slow awakening underway. The cat repositions on the towel that covers the sun-soaked chair cushion he chose earlier, and gives me a quizical glance, but satisfied I'm no threat to his comfort, he turns over with a stretch and closes his eyes, resuming his morning nap.

We haven't been called yet to pick up the yellow Notice signs for our Variance application, but our next door neighbour stopped by yesterday to alert us that she had seen a blue vehicle parked on the Bay Friday, and watched a man get out and traverse our lot, taking photographs and jotting notes first from her driveway, then from the other side, checking angles and sightlines, no doubt. A concerned mother herself, she approached, confiding to us that her intent was to get a licence plate number of he unmarked car, but also chancing to speak with the stranger.

He briefly introduced himself and his purpose, and admitted that at first he was not keen on the idea as proposed, but once he saw the plans he was impressed with the quality and level of detail provided, and thought he owed it to the process to investigate more closely. He was happy to have spoken with her, confirming that she and her husband who would be most affected by the design, which would be visible from their front window and borders their drive, had signed the application in agreement with our proposal, and mentioned that he thought it would likely be approved.

It's too early to start ordering material and booking the trades - the formal process is far from over. But like Mothers everywhere, it gives us hope that our efforts haven't been in vain.