The last two weeks have been particularly peculiar and appropriately gloomy for the time of year. It all started one morning when I detected a musty, earthy aroma in the water when brushing my teeth. It was very early in the morning and I put that information at the back of my head. We drink spring water anyways, so it wasn’t until a few hours later, when I wanted to take a bath, that I noticed the intense muddy scent again. It was too late. I was already covered with it, so I decided to go ahead a take a mud bath. Only later in the day I learned that the water reservoir has flooded with an abundance of rain (hardly anything unusual for Vancouver) and the water was full of sediments that the water system has failed to filter for some reason or another (I find reading the news to be a tedious and useless activity for the most part, as they change all the time; the important stuff gets to me anyways, either by adventurous self discovery or by the juicier means of gossip).

It was nice to smell most earth again. I never though I would smell this in Vancouver, as the dirt is covered by many layers of dead leaves and foliage, and is never released, despite the many rains and showers. I love the scent of earth after rain, in fact it is the first scent I missed from back home. But once the novelty of smelling it from my tap water has worn off, all I could notice was the lack of relaxing baths (we all reverted to showers so that we get less dirty when we bathe).

To top this all off, I spent almost the entirety of last week waiting, indoors, for deliveries to come in. After amny mishaps with both the courier and the furniture store, by the very end of the week, the furniture I needed so badly for my perfumery arrived, and are being gradually assembled; AND I am finally the happy owner of the newest MacBook thanks to my beloved boyfriend’s guilt feelings for wrecking my computer (unintentionally, of course) a couple of years ago while cleaning it, something he couldn’t forgive himself until he got me the dream laptop! Thanks for ruining my computer, Darling! It was worth the wait. I know I can trust you to wreck it again when this model becomes obsolete ;)

However, before we had enough time to rejoice in the new gadgets, the earliest snow storm in the recent history of the province has emerged, and since Saturday we are enjoying a white city, gradually icing up with black ice and all other sorts of ice and slush and the constant threat of school closures.

It was perhaps that sense of intensely early winter gloom that got me interested for the first time in wearing Jo Malone. The first day I managed to leave the house after the deliveries have arrived, I went to Holt Renfrew and snathed the almost-last Miniature Cologne Collection from the line, containing 6 scents. 3 of which I already knew I had an affection towards, and the other three were meant to be given away as gifsts, or sold on eBay.

I am going to dedicate the following posts to my most favourite of the line, most of which were contained in that handsome little miniature set, and also review the new addition to the line, Blue Agava & Cacao.

The first rain in a desert country is something extraordinary. There is a word for it in our language, “Yoreh”. After the dead-dry months of dust and dried straw and broiling sun, the earth responds to the rain gratefully by releasing a haunting aroma and setting free the many seeds that are buried within her. They will sprout as early as the next day, and within a couple of days, the earth is covered with teeny signs of life of many species. The most significant plants, besides the bright green grass against the rich brown soil, are the Autumn Crocuses, aka Sitvanit ha-Yoreh (Sitvanit is from Stav, the Hebrew word for Autumn, and the Yoreh is the first rain). In other words – the Autumn Crocus of the First Rain.

The other species is a type of bluebell, which is called “Rain Bells”. A very modest sibling to the European species, as these flowers are tiny and quite rare. They don’t grow in groups as the European ones do, so one must remember where they emerged in previous years to find them.

After nine months of the best pregnancy I could ever wish for myself (or any other woman), and after 22 hours of labour (which I would happily fast-forward if it was only possible), on October 29th, 1996, at 12:50am, my 9 months and 22 hours odyssey to motherhood had reached its destination, and a beautiful girl took her first breath, which most likely had smelled of a combination of wheat germ oil in a hospital... That very night, the Yoreh had knocked on the roofs of the Western Galilee, and clenched the thirst of the dry earth. Two days later, when we came back home from the hospital, the earth was covered with the spouting grass. My mother and brothers came to visit. The clouds had already cleared (that’s what they do around the Mediterranean), and in the late afternoon and the magic hour just before sunset, the warm Autumnal sun has glowed on our euphoric faces and the little fruit-of-the-womb. We went for a leisurely stroll among the olive orchards and observed the same golden light glowing through the rare petals of Autumn Crocuses and Rain Bluebells with a peaceful feeling of wonderment in our hearts.







P.s. Image of Sitvanit originally uploaded by Sibboleth

Tamya and I were walking this morning in a garden of forking paths in the rainforest. A beautiful day, sunny but not hot, autumnal just enough to wear a sweater without sweating. The dead conifer leaves piling on the ground warmed up to the sun which in return to its warmth had to give away a distinctively sweet chypre aroma. As we approached the forest, and Tamya decided to go in instead of observing the ducks and Canadian geese in the Lost Lagoon. From than on she was the navigator: in each intersection I asked her to make a choice, by either pointing to where she wanted to go or leading us there. This reminded me of how far we have gone since she was little about communicating to me what she wants, and also made me contemplate once more the challenge of making choices, of screening out information, and of structure and discipline versus choice and leisure.

Our hardest days and most difficult times are not during the week, when the routine is rather structured, but rather – in the weekends, when the boundaries are loose, you can choose whatever you want, and there are so many confusing things to choose from. Quite overwhelming, actually, when you think about it.

Imagine this metaphor: Tamya is in a maze. She is not sure what she is doing there. She only knows that she feels terribly uncomfortable. What she sees as options to choose from is not just the next cross of paths but also the possibilities of climbing over the hedges, digging underneath them, trying to go through them, and perhaps even consuming them until an escape hole is formed. Of course these are all excellent possibilities in theory, but these are probably just 4 ideas out of perhaps a hundred that goes through Tamya’s mind in a few seconds, in a state of panic and extreme discomfort. This is no picnic.

Yet, we expect people like Tamya to make choices every day. And we do so because we care. Making choices, also known as decision making, is one of the most important life skills, and as a parent I want my child to learn that skill and be able to survive and live a happy and healthy life. We need to make choices all the time. Helping a young child with autism or a similar challenge (i.e.: anxiety around changes and transitions) to learn that skill is perhaps more important than any other life skill. Choice is what separates us from other forms of existence, and without making choices, the life of my child will be lead by others!

This can be done everyday, simply by helping the child narrow down the options. Do you want to turn left or right? What is your choice – salad or apple? (This is also a known trick to get your child to acquire healthy nutritional habits). Hopefully, the child will gradually develop the tools to recognize a few options out of myriads of possibilities that exist at any given time, and be able to make a choice within a reasonable time frame.

P.s. Comment on this post or on any of the next few Blogala posts over the weekend and I will make a $1 donation per each reader who commented to the Autism Communication Training of BC