Yellowknife summer skyline: sunsets and sunrises

What a highlight of the year to finally visit the Northwest Territories, and spend a week in Yellowknife!

The plane from London to Yellowknife landed sometime between midnight and 1am.

But from the amount of light in the sky, i would have thought it something like 8 or 9 in the evening.

It is hard to know what to make of those long summer days in Yellowknife. 

Summer solstice indeed! 

It simply is too light out to want to go to sleep.  

It would have been impossible to sleep had the hotel not had the heaviest of curtains sheilding the room from the outside.  

Throughout the week, I felt this strange sense of fatigue as the evening would wear on, and the light would continue. 

It is like part of your mind 'knows' that it is late, but your body is confused by the contradictory signals (the amount of light in the sky). 

You end up with this wierd feeling of being both exhausted and energized.

It is also hard to know if the colours in the sky are 'sunset' or 'sunrise', since the two moments bleed into eachother in a way that makes it unclear which state you are actually in.

In any event, the colours were glorious.  I just couldn't decide if my 'favourite' was the palette of pink and mauve...

.....or if it was the yellow and gold. 

Certainly, along the edge of the horizon where the sun was touching land and sky, it looked like molten lava spread across the clouds....amazing.

 

Annabelle's Funeral - living with dying...



Dusk or Daybreak? The Yellowknife Sky, 2am on June 17

What great news it had been, months back, to discover that my sister Mary was pregnant, and expecting to have a baby in August. And then a shock to have the routine ultrasound reveal that the baby's heart was growing outside of the body. Though Annabell (as Mary named her) was continuing to grow and wiggle around, the defect was a fatal one. Very few children with this condition live beyond a few days, and most are unable to survive the process of being born.
 
And so, we have all been preparing ourselves for the funeral which would most likely follow on the heels of the birth. My aunt Moiya sewed a little dress for Annabelle to be buried in, and my brother-in-law Leo had time to build a small coffin for this little child. While Mary had hoped that Annabelle would survive to term, and that they would have some moments together, that was not to be: her little heart stopped beating. The funeral was yesterday (June 16th).
 
That is two funerals for our family in less than a month: Verlaine after living for 90 years; Annabelle before taking her first breath. But in both cases, I have been struck by the reminder of how precious life is, both its beginnings and its ending, and by the ways we are always living with dying. It is something of a challenge in figuring out how to honour the kinds of emotions involved in that reality, and to be present for the strange mix of joy and pain that comes with the reality of leaving.
 
I wanted to share some of the words that were spoken at the funeral.  First, the words my mother Arta wrote to my sister Mary when we all finally knew that this little life would not come to fruition. Second, the words spoken by my sister Mary, speaking about what she learned and experienced from the short time she carried Annabelle with her. Both my mom and my sister have helped me to think more deeply  about the many different ways that we live with the realities of dying.
 
Words from Arta to Mary 

Mary, I am not going to grieve for you, but find joy in what Annabelle has given you, what she has helped you to discover about yourself and your family. Your deep respect for life. Your joy in her short life. Shorter than you would wish, but you have loved her every minute of it. That will have to be enough. She has helped you remember the real fragility that surrounds birthing, how it can go wrong, how deep the grief is that you will now share with other women who lose their daughters in some way.

A baby girl. I have imagined for her a laundry list of life’s events: her first words, the first tree she would climb, her first bank account she would have, her first tube of lipstick, her first high heels (borrowed from her own mother’s closet at the age of 5), her first kiss, and later her own joy in giving birth, even her own deep grief when the realities of what goes wrong in the world might touch her. It is easy for me to imagine all of this, for I am watching your other two girls in whose lives I will see all of this. Even in the beginning there was never more than a slim hope for any of the former as being a place we could go with Annabelle. In some way, I accepted that too. But she has been fully present. I have enjoyed watching you name her, watching you bring her into the lives of her extended family with phone calls and emails, seeing you treasuring her tiniest movements, witnessing that she would have existed fully had her tiny body allowed it. Your love has been a lovely gift to her. And a lovely gift to us. Thank you Mary. And yes, bawl away. Don’t think my cheeks have been dry as I have been writing this. Love, Arta

Mary's Reflections on a Journey with Annabelle: Thoughts on Miracles, Love, Peace, Hope, Mercy and Joy

My journey with Annabelle has been one full of moments that have deepened my understanding of six important things: miracles, love, peace, hope, mercy and joy.

Miracles - It is easy to look at the world around us and see miracles, big and small, in our natural environment. We may not do so often enough, but it is not a struggle to find and appreciate the beauty around us. Annabelle has helped me to remember to turn my eye inward, to see the tiniest cell in my own body, and to remember what I have been given. Each of us is a miracle. And each breath we take is a gift. Less obvious perhaps are the miracles to be found in imperfection. From the first day that we found out that our Annabelle had fatal imperfections I knew in my heart that I could not ask for a miracle – I could not ask for her to be cured, to be born whole and healthy. But as the weeks turned to months, and Annabelle kept growing, I knew without a doubt that she was already a miracle. Not only was her heart growing outside her body, her heart itself had serious defects. And yet, she continued to grow, to wiggle, and to share her short time here on earth with me. Not to be forgotten, the miracle of the doctors and medical technologies that enhanced our time with Annabelle and helped us to prepare for her arrival. What a miracle to see her through ultrasounds, to know her body, her hands and feet, even to see her tiny little heart beating. How lucky we were to journey with the doctors to find out all we could about her condition, and prepare ourselves a much as possible for her arrival. This was truly a gift to us.

Love - Love has been watching my sweet three monkeys --- Xavier, Naomi and Rhiannon on their journey with Annabelle. The sweet words to their sister Annabelle delivered with lips to my tummy. The hugs and snuggles, arms tight around my expanding waist, or heads laid gently on my belly. The sadness, tears and questions that could not be answered. Love has been poured upon us from all directions. And this love has made our own hearts turn outward. Instead of turning inward, of focusing on our own grief, we have been reminded of the importance of loving those around us and of helping others in need. Love is Rogers House, the palliative care centre where we were given the opportunity to spend a day together as a family after Annabelle was born. That gift is priceless. Our time together there let us celebrate, grieve, and love each other in a most amazing and special way.

Peace I have been in constant awe of the blessing I have received -- that I would have peace and comfort in my heart. Grief and heartache could have torn me apart, but instead I have been blessed to find joy within my grief. I have felt overwhelming peace and comfort that things were as they were meant to be. Comfort that my family would come out of this journey stronger. Peace even when Annabelle arrived far earlier than we had hoped.

Hope - Which brings me to hope. From the beginning, there was never much of a chance that we would get to see Annabelle take her first breath, to watch her grow and learn. We never knew how long she would survive. We knew she might leave this world at any moment. But Annabelle taught me about the joy that can come from setting aside what is practical and realistic and letting myself hope for something that is almost impossible. Hoping for one moment with Annabelle alive in my arms. I finally understood the importance of letting myself want something I could not have.

Mercy - Mercy was Annabelle arriving on June 7th. I wanted so much to carry her to the very end. To hope beyond reason that she would make it to August, to keep growing, that I would meet her and we would look into each others eyes. I believe a higher power knew the time would come when I would not have the strength to wait any longer, to hope anymore. I did not want Annabelle to come this month -- I desperately did not want her to come. But when I knew her heart had stopped, despite the grief, I was somehow at peace and knew in my heart the time was right.

Joy  - After days of waiting in the hospital for my body to cooperate and deliver Annabelle, she finally arrived. I just held her and held her, trying to remember to let Leo and others have a turn. I just couldn’t stop holding her little hand on my finger and looking at her tiny feet. She was so limp, but so warm and soft and beautiful. So beautiful and perfect, despite all her imperfections. With her little eyes closed, she just looked like she was sleeping. The thing I never want to forget about those first few hours with her was my joy -- how happy and at peace I was. So, so happy to finally get to meet her, to see her little broken body and hold it close to me.

(Mary ended with a few words about gratitude...those at the funeral, and those who were not, but who had shared in the journey with Annabelle.)

And so, today is another day.

I am in Yellowknife this week.  I arrived on the plane well after midnight, astonished by the light in the sky, and the range of colours swept along the horizon.  This week, the nights are so short, and the days are so long that it is next to impossible to distinguish the sunrise from the sunset.  Is the day ending or being reborn?  I will keep that thought with me for the rest of the week.  

A day thinking of Verlaine



the view from Verlaine's balcony

Steve and I have spent the day sorting through papers, and packing up boxes, as we get ready to close down Verlaine's apartment.

The funeral is tomorrow.

Saying goodbye is never easy.  .

crabapple blossoms blowing across the grass



I found myself thinking partly about the way that 'activity' (you know, packing, organizing, sorting) provides one avenue for grieving:  a way of both distracting you from the reality of parting, and of connecting you to it at the same time by allowing memories to surface as you sort through objects that you know and that attach you to the person.

I was thinking about that as I took a pause this morning to enjoy the view from the second floor balcony of the apartment that Verlaine moved into during the last year of her life. 



clouds and blossoms white against the blue sky



The grass was green, and the trees were in flower.  I enjoyed sitting there,the feel of the wind, the sight of the white clouds rolling across the sky, and the fragrance of the trees that are in bloom all along the street.

I took my camera with me downstairs to get a photo of the trees from closer by.   The fragrance was amazing. 

I loved the way the blossoms and the clouds held their white outlines against the blue of the sky. 



some rain clouds moving in



Of course, I did notice that some of those clouds were tinged with dark grey on the bottom.  Maybe we would have a fall of rain later in the day.

I asked one woman walking by if she knew the names of the trees outside. She told me the larger white blossomed tree just out the door was a Crabapple, and that the smaller blossomed trees along the street were Mayday trees.  I am sure Verlaine could have also identified the tree names for me.  I am also sure that she too would have enjoyed walking out under the trees.

She was a woman who enjoyed flowers, and who loved to garden. It takes no work at all to pull up the image of her 'puttering around' (to use her phrase) in the backyard, trimming back the roses, or planting a few rows of lobelia or some of the more showy annuals.   



the rain beating down



Certainly, my own backyard in Victoria has been the beneficiary of her work with a garden fork (and her eye for picking out nice plants at the nursery). 

The rain did indeed come by later in the afternoon... complete with thunder and lightening. 

Nourishment for garden. 

Verlaine would have approved.








 



Saying goodbye to my mother-in-law (Verlaine Carter, 1922-2012)



Len and Verlaine Carter

 Steve and I got the call on Friday that his mother had died of a heart attack late that night. 

It was not totally unexpected, but  knowing something is on the horizon does not make it that much easier. 

We are back in Calgary, arranging things for the funeral, sorting through papers and photographs, and thinking of all the fabulous memories of a life well and truly lived.  She was truly a grand dame!

Rain and Sunshine (Boys)



The Sunshine Boys

Even though London was rainy today, we still got a dose of sunshine (boys)!  

Yes, Neil Simon's play "The Sunshine Boys". 

I saw it a million years ago (the movie version) with Geoge Burns and Walter Matthau. 

This time, it was in the Savoy Theatre starring Danny Devito and Richard Griffiths (aka Vernon Dursley).  Perfect comedic timing!

Sophie and Rebecca Day 2 (V&A and Chicago)

So.... even though she has long since gone home, here is the report on Day 2 with Sophie visiting! (from back in April)

Day 2 started at the V&A museum. Once again, we arrived just in time for the tour.

This time the tour was of the Medieval and Renaissance Galleries... the ones they just spent 30 million renovating. I have to say, it is well worth the visit!

We started with a stroll through Room 50, "The Renaissance City" .  It is too cool! it is exactly what it says it is... designed to give you the sense of a renaissance city, with statues and fountain, and balconies along the walls looking into the streets. (the picture above is off the V&A website... check it out here) (http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/articles/r/renaissance-city-room-50/

We headed from there down the stairs to the medieval area, to see what we could see. 


Symmachi Panel

Our first stop was the carved ivory Symmachi Panel (400 AD) 

The carvings are beautiful, and you can see pagan elements present even though europe was beginning to be christianized at the time.

I had not known that gifts of ivory were 'restricted', and that by law ivory could only be given to high roman officials (this one was probably given to commemorate a marriage).

 

Gloucester Candlestick



Then it was off to see the  Gloucester Candle Stick (made in 1107). 

 If you click on the picture on the link above, the picture will expand so you can get a closeup look at it.

You can see 4 apostles represented by their traditional signs: Angel (Matthew), Lion (Mark), Ox (Luke), and Eagle (John).  You can aslo see apes and humans attempting to crawl up from the inferno towards the heavens.



Syon Cope



Next was the Syon Cope (which is a kind of cape worn during religious services)   It is old, but in pristine condition.  It would have been destroyed during the reformation, but a bunch of nuns moved it off to Portugal, so it survived intact.  

Again, you can click on the link to see it, though the picture does not do justice to it up close. The colours have faded somewhat with time...all the parts that look brown would have been a vibrant red! 

I stood there looking at it, thinking about the small embroidery stitches my mother had Melanie Phillips and I practice on the corner of tea towels when we were little.  The skill here was astonishing.  The guide told us that after the tour, we should go check out the golder spider silk cloak also in the gallery.  huh?  spiders?  yep.  I will come to that later.



Pisano's 'Christ Crucified'



From there we went to take a closer look at Pisano's "Christ Crucified". 

Hard to believe that it is ivory.  It was also interesting looking at how, over the years, the styles of representing religious figures had changed so significantly. 

Rather than focusing on monsters and demons, the religious objects begin focusing attention on emotional impacts of people who look 'like us'.

It is certainly an object of compelling beauty

While we couldn't get close to it (some reno work in the room), we also had a peek at the Devonshire Tapestry, which gives you a great sense of what nobel life was supposedly like: tournaments, hunts, and showing off your wealth in every way imaginable.

And, on the topic of wealth, we walked past the facade of Sir Paul Pindar's house.  He was a wealthy merchant, who loaned money to Charles I, and put thousands of pounds into the building of St. Paul's Cathedral.  The king was unable to repay him, so he ended up in poverty.  But... the house survived the great fire of London.  It was taken down to build the Liverpool Street Station, so you can now see the facade in the musuem... installed just as if it was a building.  It is pretty cool!  



Da Vinci's notebook...

 Another highlight was seeing one of da Vinci's notebooks!

Part of the renovation includes interactive computer stations. 

The one right beside the da vinci notebook has all of the pages scanned in, so you can flip through the pages, looking at both the original text, and at the translations for each page.



Da Johnson's notebook...

  Now what could be more fun than THAT?!   I have resolved to treat my own notebooks with a bit more respect (who KNOWS where they might end up?)  :-)

As an aside, there had been only 10 or so of us on the tour, which is luck beyond belief: no problems seeing or hearing stuff!  Oddly enough, one of the people in our group had also been in our tour group at the National Gallery the day before.... in a city of millions, that was a bit unusual.  As Sophie will attest (if you ask her for more of the story), our fellow-traveller was 'memorable' (to say the least).



the individual threads at the edge of the cloth



Before leaving, we headed off to the other side of the museum to take a look at the famous golden spider silk cloak. 

Seriously. 

Spiders (click here).  

Online, you can see a video of people catching the spiders, and then pulling the silk out of them, keeping them for only a while, then letting them go. 

I suspect the spiders don't love it, but they let each one go after 20 minutes of 'work' (ie. having the thread pulled out of you). 



cloak woven from spider silk



You then get to watch the strands being woven together, and finally, woven into the cloak itself.



The golden yellow colour is the natural colour of the spider silk.

 

Wow!  Hard to believe something so creepy can produce something so amazingly beautiful! 

  

spider design on the cloak

 From there, we headed back to the world of bodies!   We managed to get day tickets for Chicago: the Musical, so we sat on the very front row for a couple of hours of adultery, mayhem, music and murder, all set to music.  The only question we were left with was "if you had a choice, would you be Roxie or Velma?"  Hard call!



Rebecca strikes a pose....







Sophie strikes a pose...



Hanging out with judges at the Guild Hall



Retired Justice Claire L'Heureux-Dube and Lady Brenda Hale

This weekend was the annual meeting for the IAWJ (International Association of Women Judges).

I went to hang out and listen to some of the sessions (and spend some time sitting beside 'my' judge, the most fabulous retired Madame Justice Claire L'Heureux-Dube).

 The event was oversubscribed (i should have taken care of registration MONTHS in advance), but I got on the waitlist, and I was able register on the day, though I was told that the tickets for the Gala Dinner at the end were totally gone.

Fine!  No problem!  I was just so happy to be able to sit in the sessions and listen and watch. You can check out the program on-line  (click on the left-hand links to "Conference Program" and "Social Program").

"The Three Graces" (Connie Backhouse joins the judges)



Frankly, it was amazing: something like 600 judges from 103 nations.  It was like a mini-United Nations of Justice!

There were close to no academics there (less than a handful of us)...but what a richness of women judges! 

The world is not the place it was when I first started law school.

 It was completely inspiring for me to be there to see such diversity. 

It was also quite a thing to be able to sit there to see the ways that judges share their experiences and insights with other judges.
 

Three more graces with a theme colour?


 One of the really enjoyable parts of the event were the  'having coffee in the halls' part of the conference.

I have been taught by, mentored by, or watched from afar or in court MANY of the women judges from the Canadian delegation, and it was great fun to chat in the halls with them between sessions. 

At one point, a group had said they would see me the next evening at the Gala dinner.  I told them that they would NOT see me, since the tickets were all gone.  Ten minutes later, Lucie-Anne LaVigne returned with a ticket in hand!  Another judge had to leave early (Shiranee Tilakawardane from the Sri Lankan Supreme Court...whom deseves a huge thank you for me!), and had given her the ticket to pass along to some needy person.    SCORE!!!!!  

my mom's choice of necklace

All the way home on the tube that evening, I found myself humming the song "I've Got a Golden Ticket" from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
 

Well.... i will confess to a moment of trauma when I got home and started thinking about the words "formal attire or traditional dress" which were inscribed on the ticket. 

  

For a year of sabbatical in London, I came with only one piece of checked baggage and one piece of carry-on. 

I remember standing in front of the closet at home wondering what I should bring in case I needed to go to any chichi events during the year. 

I had decided that the odds of that happening were low, so closed the suitcase without anything in the way of elegant evening wear... I figured a black skirt and black boots could carry me.  ouch.   ah well!   



List of important trials held in the Guild Hall

As usual, my mom (who is visiting from Calgary) stepped into the gap, sending me out the door with an over-the-top necklace and a beautiful embroidered scarf to camoflage the less impressive bits!   So, (after one last quick check of the emails!) off I went.

What can I say?  The Guildhall is quite something. 

Built in the 1440s, the Guild Hall is, apparently, the only non-Church building in London to have survived the Great Fire of 1666.

It has also been the site of many famous trials, including that of Lady Jane Grey! 

To say the building (and its contents!) was amazing would be an understatement. 


Napoleon on the walls

There was an impressive collection of paintings on the walls, but not enough time to study them all! 

As it was, the people watching was taking up lots of my time.  Such a gift to see the range of colour and vibrancy of attire in those who wore traditional dress!  A feast for the eyes!

We moved from the champagne reception into the banquetting hall for the main event. 

Some lovely (and perfectly timed) welcoming remarks, along with the granting of the IAWJ Award for work in support of Human Rights. 


The Banqueting Hall

This year it went to my former boss, Claire L'Heureux-Dube! 

Perfect recipient, and I was so delighted to be there to witness it! 

What a treat for me to be there to stand on my feet and see her recognized for the years of work and passion.... and such an amazing location to have it happen in! 

 I am only sad that I didn't have my picture ready to take a picture of her getting the award.   


Indeed, I was too shy to bring out my camera until half way through the night when I had watched the judges themself turn into unstoppable camera-philes. If they could do it, so could I!

That is when I quickly snuck back to the cloakroom to recover my camera from my coat pocket!

The banqueting hall was like an amazing cathedral.

The walls were covered with statues and memorials.

Duke Wellington on the wall




Memorial to Admiral Nelson



Gog or Magog?  the view from my seat at dinner

I was seated at one end of the hall, just below the statue of (either) Gog, or Magog, two giants who were supposedly defeated by Brutus, and then chained to the gates of his palace (which was at the site of the Guildhall). While it was a bit wierd sitting at an angle that made me worry I was looking up his skirt/kilt, it was an impressive view!

I was sitting with the judges from Taiwan, who were absolutely delightful dinner companions!

I came home with a CD of beautiful Susie Chien songs, and they all signed the liner notes for me with their names in chinese characters.

Again, it would be an understatement to say that the meal was lovely.  It was perfect. 



trumpet fanfares

But it was not just the food, but the presentation...in the broadest sense of the word:  There were fanfares before each course... not your everyday trumpets, but the long ones with banners hanging from them. 

They were on the balcony just above us, so I couldn't get a great shot, but you can see the end of the trumpets if you look closely (between the stained glass and the clock).  I am not sure, but suspect they were the state trumpeters of the Band of the Life Guards.

opera singers on the balcony



The sound was amazing!  There is simply NOTHING better than music delivered in a space that amplifies the sounds... notes that echo and reverberate, or just seem to hover in the air.



And then,.. to push it over the top, there was a musical program between courses: a mezzo and a soprano, singing gems of music (''O mio babbino caro',  'the flower duet', nessun dorma, etc) from a balcony half way down the room. 

Talk about feeding the soul alongside the belly!

still beautiful the next morning

Because I live here in London and could give them a good home, I was told I could take some of the flowers (which covered the tables) home with me. 

Funnily enough, this was no problem, because I had stuffed a plastic carrying sac in my purse on the way to the event.  This was because, on the tube on the way home the previous night, the person sitting beside me on the tube had thrown up, splashing my shoes (this is one of the risks of riding the tube at night when people are coming home from the pub, having tossed back a few too many pints!).  

Ick. 

Kiwi checking out the blooms on the glass table

Before leaving home to head to the tube (to get to the Gala), I decided to follow the advice of a fellow traveller I had seen hand a bag to someone in order to throw up into (better they should throw up in a bag than on the floor on or my shoes).  Smart, thought I! 



In this case, the bag got put to an even better use, and gave me the pefect way to safely transport all the blooms home. 


So... three bunches of flowers are have been sitting on my kitchen table, filling the room with the delicate scents of rose and peoney.  Sweet!