Doing What You Love

tropical-magic-flower-arrangement-002Today I’m wearing my good old college T-Shirt.

OLDS COLLEGE it says in gold letters emblazoned on dark green cotton.

All things said, I paid a good bit of money for this T-Shirt, but the money and experience of the year spent there was well worth it and certainly, the lesson I learned will not be forgotten.

I like plants. I like flowers. I like all things dirt related — even worms — something surely instilled in me by my parents who both grew up on farms and were close to the land.

So following that ideal, I went to school to become a florist.

It was fun. I learned a lot and I graduated in the top 3 of my class. I secured employment with a reputable and admired florist shop in Calgary, Alberta where I lived at the time and was well on my way to achieving the goals I had envisioned for myself.

One such goal was to become the youngest Master Florist in Canada acknowledged by Flowers Canada and I had but one testing level to complete when I realized it wasn’t going to happen.

Yes, the work I did was pretty, artistic and admired, but the problem was that I had no creative flow. It didn’t just “come” for me.

The problem seemed to stem from the fact that I had to think. Too much.

I had to review my colors, my theory, my design styles and yes, while I knew practice makes perfect, I realized for me I would never be a true artist in that area, because while rearranging flowers and plants in the dirt was something I enjoyed and liked, they were not something I loved. There was no passion involved.

Words are my passion. My must have and my true artistic medium. They make me complete. They are a necessity in my life and I must write them. Read them. Speak them.

They are every bit as pretty as the loveliest flower I have touched.

And so much more.

Cold Lake…is it cold?

You’ve got to wonder why people ask the obvious, but yes, Cold Lake is cold.

How cold?

So cold you can wade in and your feet go numb within a matter of seconds depending on the capabilities of your circulatory system. Since my circulatory system is rather challenged, you can guess I stay out of the water for the most part. (It has *nothing* to do with how I look in a bathing suit. Honest. ;)

Kids on the other hand don’t seem to care how cold it is (or what they look like in a bathing suit for that matter). They’ll submerge themselves, gasp at the shock of entering truly arctic waters, turn instantaneously blue and have goosebumps the size of small ice floes popping out on their skin and still insist through clacking teeth that they’re “Not Cold. Can’t we stay in for just a few more minutes?”

Invariably though the fun must end before hypothermia sets in or child welfare is called.

Such is summer in Cold Lake.

In actuality, rumor has it that the water is mostly tolerable come August (my tourism board made me say that ;)

Winter is another story all together.

French Bay Cold LakeThe lake in all her deceptive splendor.

Regardless of her coldness, she’s a beauty, isn’t she?