Large Fierce Mammal

Sister LFM (left) and Mrs. LFM, both slightly blurred by alcohol, prepare for the ritual, post wish making, candle extinguishment.

A snowflake forms thousands of feet above the ground and makes its way, riding the many risings and fallings and seemingly random swirling pathways of the wind, to land exactly where it was meant to. In the practice of Zen archery, it is understood that as long as the archer does what is required in the moment, the arrow will strike its mark. ~ LFM

Last night, Sister LFM threw a stupendous party in honour of Mrs. LFM’s birthday. Hosted at the Peter Thompson Estate, the gang that assembled were of the sort we’d drink with any day given even a half-assed excuse, let alone a good one like this. Many, many, and yet again many thanks to everybody involved in making the event happen.

Every time Mrs. LFM has a birthday, I get to feeling like I’m the one who got all the gifts. In the time leading up to the party, I put together a poem inspired by my beauteous bride that first saw the light of day last night – if that makes any kind of sense. Today, you get to read it.

A snowflake’s born in regions far
From where it’s meant to light.
It seems to ride without control
In random windblown flight.

But random isn’t what defines
Where snowflakes come to rest.
Their destiny will bring them home
On paths that can’t be guessed.

You see, wherever snowflakes land,
On ground or upturned face,
No snowflake can be said to find
A wrongful resting place.

Nature blessed me with this Truth,
She gave a gift to me -
My Snowflake landed in my arms,
Right where she’s meant to be.

Happy birthday Baby. Let’s have a thousand more just like it.

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