Tuesday, December 18, 2007

'Tis the season

For giving of gifts and attending after work Christmas parties!

I recently joined ManNorth for his work holiday party. His department, along with at least 2 or 3 others, all got together for a big potluck at one of the departmental offices. After the meal, which included some roast moose that I mistakenly thought was a delicious roast beef dish, and much chatting, the gift exchange began and I immediately regretted the gift I’d added to the pile. It still makes me feel a bit sad, even four days later.

Allow me to explain: The gift exchange was one of those kinds where all the gifts are wrapped and assembled together. All the gift givers get a number, one for each gift given. The person with the number one picks a gift and opens it and the second person has the choice of taking the opened gift or choosing a new one. If an opened gift gets taken, the person who lost it gets to take a gift (not from the person who took from them) or opens a new one and so on until there is one gift remaining and everyone has been stealing gifts back and forth trying to end up with the one that they want without anyone taking it from them. The exchange ends when someone opens the last gift. There was a preset value to the gifts and no one was to spend more than $20, although I think a few gifts had to have cost more than that. As local prices are two or three times higher than in more southern locales, $20 doesn’t go very far here and as we’d rather keep our $40, we both opted for homemade gifts that we valued as at least $20 each.

I reused some of our blank newsprint packing paper from the move to wrap up a large tin of homemade fudge that ManNorth had made and prettied it up with a holiday ribbon. The paper was bland and crinkled, but in a homey, pleasing way. My gift was similarly wrapped but with a plain blue ribbon as that was all the decoration I had left to embellish it.
I realized though, that in this style of gift giving, gaudy advertising with sparkles, bright ribbons and holiday colours are necessary for getting one’s gift picked to be opened. My poor little gift sat there like the unpopular child being passed over as teams are being picked for a school yard game. What no one knew, though, was that under that plain wrap, my gift was the best of the bunch.

I had chosen to give four hand drawn and coloured cards that I had made, using themes from around Northern Town and in the nearby mountains. Each had taken a few hours to complete and had been done when I needed to relax and unwind. In spite of only using a permanent marker and a set of 24 coloured pencils, I was particularly pleased with how these had turned out and selfishly and perhaps a bit vainly, imagined them being opened to a chorus of oohs and ahhs and my person being raised just a wee bit in their estimation. (Which could be a good thing, particularly as I’d like to find future employment with one of the departments that was participating in the party.)

Stay with me here, as I wrap this up, no pun intended: Imagine the chaos of all the most valued gifts (which were mostly tools –saws, electric screwdrivers, compasses and jackknives etc..) being passed around like hot potatoes with the occasional mug or coffee blend changing hands and then someone, finally, takes a chance on opening my lowly looking gift.

“What is it?” someone exclaimed, anticipating a new gift to steal.

“A box of cards” was the somewhat sullen reply, to everyone’s immediate disappointment and dismissal, and the next gift was being opened before the cards were even looked through by the receiver, who was obviously disappointed to be getting them, although I’d been careful to label the package with a decorative script describing them as “original art cards” to make the point that these weren’t just standard printed cards from the local store.

That’s the chance one takes at these sorts of exchanges. If one happens to open a box of pink and purple frilled orange hand towels embroidered in violent blue lettering advertising Jenny’s kitchen in sunny California (!), they’re stuck with them and won’t be able to steal a better gift unless someone else decides Jenny’s kitchen is where it’s at and takes them.

All my hard work had been for nought, my ego remained unstroked and the recipient didn’t want the cards, and was disappointed at not being able to compete for the electric screwdriver or ratchet set he’d been watching change hands. I briefly considered stealing them back if I got a chance, partly out of sympathy for him and partly in response to my offended inner artist, but as I’d put my name on them (all other gifts were anonymous) and had already been introduced to the group, it’d be sort of a tacky thing to do. I ended up as the proud owner of a much sought after set of hand saws that ManNorth and I actually needed and ManNorth’s fudge was being passed around the room for everyone to try after two children, in their attempt to help the recipient open the package, spilled the fudge all over the floor. (Most of it was still edible and everyone declared it yummy.)

My hope is that the cards were later taken out of the protective clear plastic covers I’d put them in and examined in detail, the recipient finally realizing that he had indeed, received the best gift, and decided to keep them for himself, perhaps even framing them. Or perhaps, his wife saw some value in them and did the same, or used them for their holiday cards and the final recipients think they’re just wonderful.

I’m kind of glad that I’ll never know.

I should have given them to one of you, my faithful readers (Hmm. I seem to be channeling one of the Bronte sisters here. The gift/team picking theme had me thinking of plain Jane Eyre for some reason) Or I could have given them to other friends or family members who might value them , at least, for coming from me rather than from a random stranger.

Sigh.

ManNorth and I walked home chatting about the intricacies of gift giving and how much pleasure can be had from the giving of a gift, relative to receiving one. I took pleasure in creating those cards and knew I’d given a good gift. I just should have given it to someone else.

I’m glad though, that I scanned each card before I wrapped it up and I’ll show you the front of each card here. The images aren’t quite true to the originals as some hues weren’t picked up in the scan and they’re much more washed out than the real things (especially the lighter hues), but hopefully you’ll get the idea. Consider these my holiday gifts to you, my readers. Enjoy!








Viburnum edule

(lowbush cranberry)


Northern Highway








Campanula lasiocarpa

(Mountain harebell)











Winter at Big Lake

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

A farewell of sorts


The rising sun
Blesses my mind
With joy.
The setting sun
Blesses my heart
With peace.
The Rising Sun
-Sri Chinmoy

I've been thinking about the sun this week and am confident that I'll still have joy and peace tomorrow when the sun will neither rise nor set here in Northern Town. There are still a few weeks of twilight remaining as we ease into a month of darkness and I've been enjoying watching the sky change from black to deep blue and varied shades of purple, pink and gold during the few hours when the sun nears the horizon to peek out and then descends to fade away again.
For those who appreciate this sort of information, here's a clip from the NRCC's website and their sunrise sunset calculator for Northern Town. Note that the sun reaches its zenith today at 2:46pm local time (we're on daylight savings time) and sets less than half an hour later.


ManNorth has the camera today so I won't be able to share a photo. Instead, I'll share are a few I took this past weekend as the sun rose (and set) while we were out exploring on our skis. The temperature was a frosty -30C but I still managed to overheat and had to shed one of my wool sweaters.

Looking north at midday.


The sun reaches its zenith over Big Lake



Leaning trees along the shore at local noon


Cold? Bah! Never with head to toe wool!



A favourite view from south of Northern Town at midday.