Honeymooning for Beginners

We knew we'd be in bed together by afternoon. We had never even held hands! The imbalance between knowing someone so well, and not knowing them at all, was overwhelming. I needed the time to know him physically, to hold each other close, to kiss and caress one another. 

Cam and I met 43 years ago, when I was twenty years old, and he was ancient...like, thirty. He was also married. We worked together in the newsroom of Vancouver radio stations, CKWX/CJAZ, and formed a lasting friendship. I moved East, living in Quebec and Ontario with my late husband, and mother, for three decades.  

I was recently widowed when we reconnected on Facebook. It was as if we had never been apart. For the next five years, Cam and I "spoke" every day. His daily photographs of sunrises on the Salish Sea, lifted my spirits, and motivated me to return to the Westcoast. Over the years, our mutual affection and support for one another has been witnessed by hundreds of Facebook friends, or as I like to call them, "our chaperones".

We loved one another. I often told friends that he was the perfect man for me, but he was married. We never crossed that line. Until he was very recently widowed. We allowed ourselves to open our hearts, and speak the truth to one another. We love one another. We are also in love with one another. 

We aren't getting any younger! We know how precious life is. Cam says time is generous. We have been given a great gift of time together.  

Last month, I boarded a seaplane from Vancouver to Vancouver Island, and a new life with my man. Within minutes of stepping off the seaplane, I was climbing a stone staircase towards Cam. He began walking backwards, leading me towards a circle made of inlaid stones. It was there, inside that stone circle, that we had our first kiss...43 years in the making. 

The slow drive home was our first date, and we discovered the joy of fish and chip picnics on seaside park benches. Although we are not married, our family and friends have referred to our early days together as our,"honeymoon". His sunrises, are my sunrises.

Cam is my happily ever after. The red roses which he placed in the living room of our music-filled home, are now dried, and preserved for the anniversary of my arrival on the Island, when they'll be scattered in our stone circle. We are blessed.

Rose Photographs by: Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.
Image of Ruth and Foxglove by: Campbell McCubbin

Anticipation

Anticipation: a feeling of excitement about something that is going to happen in the near future. We're all feeling it, as we imagine being with friends and family once more. We imagine what we'll do when the world is ours once again; when we're free to travel anywhere, dine out, or go to concerts. 

Springtime in Vancouver! I've been anticipating it for decades. The ribbons of pink cherry blossoms lining city streets, the Sakura groves in city parks, and private gardens, and even the petal snowfalls at the end of the season, have been on my mind for nearly thirty years. I was not going to let a global pandemic stop me from capturing the fleeting beauty of cherry blossoms.

 

I saw them way back in November 2019 BV (before the virus). Even with bare branches, the vignette of a small group of cherry trees overlooking Vancouver's False Creek, filled me with anticipation. I returned earlier this month, expecting to capture their beauty with my camera. I was too early. Their buds needed a few more days of sunshine and warm weather to open. Anticipation and patience usually travel hand in hand. 

A few days ago, I journeyed two miles along the seawall walk, back to the cherry tree spot. What a disappointment! Instead of full, ruffled pink blossoms framing the blue waters of the creek, I could only see gnarly, gangly branches through my viewfinder. Things don't always turn out as we anticipate. 

I chose to enjoy the experience...to be present to the beauty around me. It was magical. Worth the wait.

While we're physically isolating ourselves, anticipating the day when we can live more normal lives, be mindful of the present. Enjoy every moment of life. My walks along the False Creek Seawall are always filled with beauty, and inspiration. The journey is the experience. Sometimes, when you're open to the world around you, you discover something unexpected, that you didn't anticipate...  

 

Photographs Copyright of: Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

March Forth

March 4th! One of my favourite days of the year! It's a declaration! March 4th is the only day of the year, which when said aloud, in English, is a call to move forward - to get the job done!

Yes, in two months time, we'll all be channeling our inner Yoda's, and wishing one another well, saying, "May the fourth be with you." Some, will reply, "...and with you, as well." Today, however, is a complete statement in and of itself. March forth. Go forward. Take action.

For those of us who march to the beat of a different guitar (you can drum on a guitar), it's a day for boldness. Step into those Flamenco heels. toss your head back, and go for it.

Every risk I have ever taken, has been worth it. March 4th was the beginning of many of them. Transformation and transition are not always smooth. Sometimes, you have to stomp your heels, and clap your hands.     

Flamenco originated in Southern Spain's Andalusian region. Moors, from North Africa ruled the area from the 8th to 15th Centuries, bringing Arab Muslim culture, art and music to Spain. At first, Flamenco was simply voice, and the rhythmic clapping of hands. Dancing, and later - much later - guitars were added.  It wasn't until the late 1800's that the word Flamenco was used to describe the passionate music and dance.

     

These Oriental Lilies have filled home with their spicy fragrance for nearly two weeks! Of all the cut flowers, they are wildly sophisticated, and economical, too! Their scent fills a large room, yet, it's natural, and not as cloying as a chemical room fragrance.

They're wonderful to photograph! They're floral dancers, with so much movement in every curve of a petal, in every undulation of a leaf. I love their freckled faces!

Happy March 4th! Snap your fingers, and click your heels!

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

Dried Up and Refreshed

True confession:  I have bags of this stuff.  Dried rose petals.  Decades of decayed roses.  Take a good, long look because they're going into the garbage.   My sentimentality regained it's sanity, when I realized that I no longer remembered which dried rose petals came from which bouquet, or why I'd preserved them in the first place.  Which birthday was this from?  Who gave me these?  Was this from Christmas, or Valentine's Day?  Did I grow this rose on my balcony? 

Their colours have faded over time, and my sentimental petals have lost their scent.  Their time is up.  It's not as if they haven't been useful.  I've scattered the petals across dining tables, sprinkled them with essential oils, and even used them in photo shoots -  quelle surprise! 

 

While scattered rose petals herald the arrival of a bride down the aisle, these dried petals will be unceremoniously dumped into the disposal bin of my building.  I feel no remorse.

It is the memories of happy times, not the keepsakes which are important.  I am keeping that in mind, as I declutter my home.  Change is coming, and I am embracing change! 

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

I Heard It Through the Grapevine

I heard it through the grapevine that 5.13 Billion people have mobile devices.  That's more than 66% of the world's population!  The numbers come from the Global System for Mobile Communications (GSMA), and they should know, because they represent mobile network operators around the world.  

Most of us can't part with our mobile phones.  We grip them tightly, like we're carrying our brains in our hands.  Then, we stumble, and the phone does Cirque du Soleil style somersaults through the air, before crashing to the ground.  Dropping a phone could result in anything from loss of the mute button, to poor quality reception for the rest of the phone's life.  I've been having fun this week, designing mobile phone "crash helmets" to protect the brains of your constant companion.  

 I Heard it Through the Grapevine, is the perfect name for the phone cover above.  The grape leaves, and tiny blue Champagne grapes were growing along a rain-dampened fence, not far from my Toronto home.  Every colourful, and beautifully patterned grape leaf is unique!  

Hope the phone cover helps your phone last even a tenth as long as Marvin Gaye's Motown classic.  It was recorded in the Winter of '67, and released in '68 - which is over half a century ago.  Never get tired of it!  

I love the image of the metal ivy vines intertwined with the sturdy living wisteria vines, their weathered branches becoming one with the manmade structure.  As a phone cover, Interwoven speaks to our interwoven relationships, whether in our contact lists, or on Facebook - where many of us discover how many of our friends already know one another. 

The image also reminds me of family trees, and the bringing together of two very different families, to form one.  The most tight knit families I know of, call one another every day.  Every.  Single.  Day.  When was the last time you called your Mum, or Mother-in-Law, to in the words of Stevie Wonder, say, I Just Called to Say I Love You? 

Don't forget that other leaf...cannabis leaves are often overlooked in the world of fashion.  I love their graphic, elongated lines.  I've had fun altering their colours on the computer, such as this in image, Tropi-Canna Mint and Plum...

Maybe it's the British Columbian in me - I just love totem poles and telephone poles!  They are as much a part of the BC landscape as the mountains and sea.  When I returned to the Westcoast last July, after nearly three decades in Eastern Canada, the iconic telephone poles were still standing along older neighbourhood streets, and back alleys, and hugging the blackberry brambles of country roads and ditches.  ELO's Telephone Line, gets me every time, and I'm listening to it, as I type.  

Totem poles are found in public gathering places throughout BC.  Waiting for an early morning sailing to Nanaimo's Departure Bay, on Vancouver Island, I photographed a small portion of the late Tony Hunt's Kwakiutl Bear Pole, guarding the BC Ferry Terminal, at Horseshoe Bay, in West Vancouver.  The tall, weather-worn totem was carved from Western Red Cedar, and was one of 19 totems commissioned for the BC Centennial in 1966.  Not having had my first cup of coffee, it was as if I was looking in the mirror.     

Nothing takes the industrial edge off tech devices, like cover images of pink ruffled cherry blossoms and peonies.  There's something eternally sunny about these flowers, which brighten up rainy, or snow drift days.  In order of appearance:  Japanese Cherry Blossoms Blue Sky,  Cherry Blossom Branches, Wedding White Cherry Blossoms, and Cherry Blossom Impressions. 

Peonies are one of my favourite flowers to photograph.  They're fullsome blossoms with layers of ruffled petals, casting shadows throughout.  There's so much movement in the light and shadow!  These peony phone covers speak softly of everlasting beauty, romance and drama...maybe they scream just a little...Blondie's Call Me, meets the Big Bopper's Chantilly Lace!  In order of appearance:  Honey Peonies, Peony Drama, and Peonies and Ice Cream.

Being a floral photographer in Toronto has its disadvantages...nothing grows during the months of snow and ice.  It's never stopped me from taking pictures of flowers!  Supermarket flowers have been a source of beauty and inspiration during the dark days of October, November, December, January, February, March, April...and let's face it, even May.  These double carnations were in a plastic bucket at the grocery store, just begging to be "discovered" like a Hollywood starlet.  This phone cover is called, wait for it...Pale Pink Carnations! I tell it like it is.  No excuse not to remember that name.

Jeans and a t-shirt today?  Slip Jeans over your phone for a matching look!  I've always loved the look of faded blue jeans.  They're timeless.  These were photographed in a rural flea market, here in Ontario, and could travel around the world.  Jeans are universal.  The phone covers are slim fit too!

The phone covers are available in more than a dozen styles which cover the shape and layout of iphones and Samsung phones.  They're made of durable Lexan plastic, with embedded print, UV and scratch resistant finish.

To paraphrase Operator, the 1975 hit by the Manhattan Transfer:  Operator...information...how do you order these phone covers?   Just one ringy dingy...  http://bit.do/phonecovers

Snapdragons

 

I've loved snapdragons ever since I was a little girl exploring my backyard garden.  These colourful end of Summer flowers are made for children's imaginations and games.  Do you remember pinching the sides of the base of a flower, so that it's mouth would open like a fire breathing dragon?  If you were lucky, you could get a dozen good roars out of single blossom, before it turned limp, and withered in your fingers.  Dragon slayers!

Even big kids love 'em.  When I showed my Brazilian friends why the flowers are called snapdragons, their looks of astonished joy were priceless.  For the next few minutes, these grown men became little boys again.  Priceless! 

The botanical name for snapdragon is Antirrhinum, from the Greek, "anti" for like, and "rhin" for nose.  In other words, they look snout like.  They are believed to have originated in Italy and Spain, and have spread to North Africa, Europe and North America. 

Spread they do...they are a self seeding plant.  Leave them alone in the garden, and they'll come back year after year.  They may not come back in the same original colour.  Many snapdragons are hybrids, and their seeds take on the traits of both "parents".  If you have a red snapdragon, and a white snapdragon, their "offspring" may be pink the following year.  Snapdragons come in every colour, except pure blue. Real dragons come in blue!

    

  

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

International Widows' Day 2019

It's International Widows' Day.  Truthfully, for widows around the world, every day is widows' day.  Every.  Single.  Day.  

I chose this photo of the beautiful garden gate in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada's Butchart Gardens, because it represents a divide: life and death, before and after, what is visible and invisible.  Almost every widow I know, thinks of her life in terms of before and after the death of their husband or partner.  We can tell you not only the date of death, the exact time as well.  Many (not me, because I don't think in terms of numbers), actually count the days since their husband was alive.  There's even an app for that.  

The gate may also represent the unobtainable, the barriers facing widows around the world - especially, in third world countries.  The United Nations global statistics says that of the world's 258 million widows, one out of ten live in extreme poverty.  They (and their children) are destitute.  

UN Secretary-General Antonio Guterres, says, "women are significantly more likely to suffer poverty in old age than men".  He says, "widowed women's lifetime earnings and savings are often too little to avoid poverty".  The Secretary-General says, that discriminatory inheritance rights, means that women "may be stripped of land, property and even rights and access to their own children".  In some parts of the world, widows are outcast, subjected to violence and sexual abuse, and forced to remarry. 

The UN Secretary-General is asking all of us to reflect on ensuring that widows "are not left behind". 

The most recent statistics for Canada and the United States show that there were more than 1.4 million widows in Canada, including those who were living common law.  America has ten times our population, and naturally, the statistics for widows is about ten times greater than Canada's.  In 2018, there were 11.7 million widows in the USA.  As the populations of both countries age, the number of widows grows.

There's comfort in numbers.  There's something reassuring about widows talking to other widows - discovering that they are not crazy to still hold onto a pair of his boots, or not being able to let go of shirts that are still hanging in the closet months, or years later.  

There are many on-line groups for widows, and I have found listening and sharing is healing and empowering.  To widows reading this, you are not alone.
 

One final note, relating to the garden gate...the invisible and visible doesn't just refer to life and death.  Many widows say they feel invisible.  Widows are thought of as frail, octogenarians, living in isolation.  They are in fact, young women, often living in isolation.  The average age of a widow in the US is 59 years old, and the average age in Canada is 56.

Sometimes the isolation is self imposed.  Many widows, particularly in the early months are contrary:  not wanting to be left out or excluded, and yet, not wanting to be around anyone.  If you are a friend, call them anyway, they may decline the offer, however, it will mean so much that they were thought of.

Even going to a celebration can be overwhelming for a widow.  It is a full in the face reminder that even surrounded by friends and family, they are alone.  The very person they may wish to share the joy with, isn't there.  

As I said in the beginning, every single day is widows' day.  From the moment her head hits the pillow, and all through the night until sunrise, the empty place in the bed is a reminder of being alone.  Every time a widow steps out the door, she is reminded of places and events shared with someone who is never coming back.  Every grocery trip is an aisle of his favourite foods, or if he was seriously ill, food lables which had to be carefully studied.  Eventually, it eases (after years of fanatically reading the lables of food, I never look at them anymore). 

It takes time to learn to live the life of a widow...to be just you.     

  

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated. 

Summer Solstice

Light, after darkness.  In our Northern Hemisphere, Summer Solstice is the longest day of the year, and the official beginning of Summer.  Today, we enjoy a full six and a half hours more daylight than on the shortest day of the year, the Winter Solstice in December.  After griping all year about our neverending Winter, we're just going to let bygones be bygones, and enjoy the season.

      

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

Lilac Lane

There are two seasons in Toronto:  Winter and Construction.  The balconies of our vertical village are undergoing a major transformation, and the unavoidable drilling is in the mega decibels.  Fortunately, there's a quiet street not far away, that is worlds away from the noise!  A lifetime away...  

You know the lilac trees are nearby, even before you see them.  Their fragrance fills the air.  Breathing the sweet, rich perfume instills a deep sense of calm.  It's a fragrance that awakens long forgotten memories of childhood.

 

I can hear the sound of my Dad whistling, for the four of us to come home, that Mum had dinner on the table.  I can see him, standing on our tiny porch - still wearing his crisply ironed white shirt, but having removed his tie - the early evening sun shining on him.  He was VP of BCIT, yet a down to earth family man with no pretensions.   

  

 

He planted the lilacs, next to the old pear trees that had been on the property before our home was built.  It was where he found the frail robin which had fallen out of its nest.  He brought the robin into the house, and placed him in a cloth lined shoebox, before leaving for work.  That day, we fed him bread which had been soaked in warm milk.  We found the old hamster cage, which gave the young robin a little more room. 

The robin grew, and weeks later, we took him camping with us, driving in a packed station wagon all the way up to Barkerville, in Northern BC.  The robin would fly freely around the campsites, and always return to rest on Dad's shoulder, or my little sister's arm.  When we returned home, he was set free for the last time.

Walking down "Lilac Lane", I was set free.  My heart soared like the birds.  The stress and upheaval of life, disappeared.  I am ever grateful to my Dad for teaching me how use a camera, and more than that, being able to appreciate the beauty that is always just steps away from us.

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widows Endorphins Photographic Images Inc.