Happy Harvesting
I got a bit of a lecture this morning.
There we were, breakfast done and we lingered over our morning coffee contemplating what we were going to be doing today. Being the high-tech wonder that I am I had just checked the weather app on my phone (instead of getting up and walking over to the deck door and stick my nose outside to check the temperature). It was already too hot for me. I commenced grumbling.
Instantly I was chastised for complaining about hot, sunny weather during harvest. I suppose I should have known better, but it's been a few years since we actually had a harvest of our own to worry about so my frame of mind was not in harvest mode. He, on the other hand, has spent the past week working for a neighbour; he is in full-blown Farmer-itis.
"This is the best combining weather we could ask for!"
"Everything is ripening to perfection!"
And, scrolling through the 14 day forecast on his phone "There's not a drop of rain in sight for two weeks. We couldn't ask for better than that!"
It hadn't been the rain, or lack of it, that had been on my mind. It was all those days of temperatures over 30. I really don't do heat well.
I get it though; hot and dry is good. Let the farmers get their crops off. A single rain can degrade a crop tens of thousands of dollars, and a wind can shatter seed pods and throw the seeds on the ground - a waste for this year and a curse for next year. By this time of the year the days are getting shorter all the time; a farmer doesn't want cool, dewy nights either because it takes half the day to get the crop back to dry again.
The bottom line is people like me just need to keep our heat disapproval to a minimum until the crop is in the bin. It can't happen fast enough to suit me.
I have a whole list of things I need to get done. There is a little bit of grass to mow. There is garden to clean up, and there is always weeding to do. There are strawberries to pick, potatoes to dig, corn to bring in for supper, and although I have no idea what to do with them anymore, there are tons of cucumbers out there. They love the hot weather.
The trouble is none of these jobs can be done in the shade. I was so desperate for something to do inside yesterday I even cleaned out my bowls/plastics cupboards, and the notion that I should tackle my deepfreeze next keeps crossing my mind. My subconscious is at war over this - my emotional side screams "But you hate that job!" while my practical side points out that "At least it would a cool place to hang out for an afternoon." So far my sheer laziness has saved me, but their constant bickering is really starting to get on my nerves.
The dog really really really wants to go for a walk but he's crazy. He's a Husky/German Shepherd cross and has a hair coat that safely gets him through Canadian winters - 30 degree summer days are worse for him that they are for me. I can just see me having to carry the lunk back home when he keels over from heat exhaustion. Well actually, he would probably do fine: I'm just worried that if I keeled over from heat exhaustion he wouldn't bother carrying me home. So just to be on the safe side, we're not going for a walk until it's much cooler outside. Like maybe mid September.
This may call for a trip to the library for something to read, or maybe I will checkout what Netflix has to offer. Or maybe I will Google BBQ recipes - I have no desire to heat up the inside of my house to feed this re-awakened farmer of mine. I do hope that they have a clear run and the crop comes off in peak condition ... the faster the better.
Tuesday, August 29, 2017
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
HOME BASE
Some of the advertisements for Ancestry.com really blow my mind. The ones about using DNA to discover where on the planet your genetics originated are one thing, and maybe everyone should have a dose of reality in their ethnicity; it might do the world some good.
It's the other ads, the ones of folks saying that they discovered relatives they never knew they had - people only one or two generations away from their own. I ask you; how is that even possible? How can families be so loosely associated that they have lost knowledge of each other in such a short period of time? I can't imagine not knowing all my family connections going back for multiple generations - that's what families do. That's what families are.
But then, maybe I've just had the good fortune to be included in some pretty stellar families and have set my 'family-hood' bar higher than most.
Some families have never organized a family reunion; each branch of the family tree spreading in separate directions through laziness or lack of interest. They are the ones who need Ancestry.com to track down relatives.
Other families throw everything they have into getting everyone together; a massive undertaking and to be admired for the work and commitment done by the organizing committee. It's common at these affairs for the different family branches wear colour coded t-shirts so folks can try to keep semi-strangers sorted.
And then there's the people who do it every year with the motto of whoever can make it, come on down! It's low key, laidback, and lovely. These people know everyone by first names, are excited to meet new babies, have all the little cousins play together, and sit around a campfire talking of everything from jobs, trips, plans, ailments, recipes, and hobbies, picking up the threads of conversations started around last year's fire as if they happened yesterday.
There are also two kinds of family building. To some people 'family' is an exclusive term. They see the world in terms of 'them' and 'us', drawing a dividing line between who they are, and everyone else who isn't quite so lucky. I'm not saying that this approach is wrong, but my observation is that it is probably pretty lonely.
The other extreme is a family founded on inclusiveness. This is my experience, and there is no way any of the DNA search companies would be able to figure us out.
The standard joke about a family reunion not being a good place to look for future spouses hardly holds water when there are kids from second marriages and cousins of step grand children mixed in with the regulars, all of them welcomed as full family with no reservation. In-laws, out-laws, second marriages, children from previous relationships ... it's all the same to us. Come in, sit down, and have something to eat!
This year's gathering was special, being held at the family's home base - the original family farm now held by a fourth generation. Although the landscape of the yard has changed over the years it still holds enough landmarks to anchor memories of our younger selves. And right around the corner we gathered Sunday morning in the church (because that's the kind of thing this family does) and took part in a lay service (because, again, that is what this family does). In reflection on the reading about faith and love the brother who spoke gave credit for his family's faith and capacity for love to his parents' example. I've been thinking a lot about that while I worked on what I wanted to write today.
I absolutely agree that these people were good people and that they showed love and faith in their everyday lives, but it seems to me that the focus is too narrow if we single out their generation alone. The big picture is that obviously these two good people didn't appear out of a vacuum. They came from good people just as surely as they brought forth more good people. We are all welcoming and inclusive and kind, partly because of the example set for us, but also because it is just in us to be welcoming and inclusive and kind. We are all, singly, an example of the whole. It connects us much more profoundly than DNA.
We also have a tendency to have fun, eat too much, laugh a lot, cuddle babies, problem solve, tell stories, play games, and give each other a hard time. Pretty normal family stuff in my world.
Some of the advertisements for Ancestry.com really blow my mind. The ones about using DNA to discover where on the planet your genetics originated are one thing, and maybe everyone should have a dose of reality in their ethnicity; it might do the world some good.
It's the other ads, the ones of folks saying that they discovered relatives they never knew they had - people only one or two generations away from their own. I ask you; how is that even possible? How can families be so loosely associated that they have lost knowledge of each other in such a short period of time? I can't imagine not knowing all my family connections going back for multiple generations - that's what families do. That's what families are.
But then, maybe I've just had the good fortune to be included in some pretty stellar families and have set my 'family-hood' bar higher than most.
Some families have never organized a family reunion; each branch of the family tree spreading in separate directions through laziness or lack of interest. They are the ones who need Ancestry.com to track down relatives.
Other families throw everything they have into getting everyone together; a massive undertaking and to be admired for the work and commitment done by the organizing committee. It's common at these affairs for the different family branches wear colour coded t-shirts so folks can try to keep semi-strangers sorted.
And then there's the people who do it every year with the motto of whoever can make it, come on down! It's low key, laidback, and lovely. These people know everyone by first names, are excited to meet new babies, have all the little cousins play together, and sit around a campfire talking of everything from jobs, trips, plans, ailments, recipes, and hobbies, picking up the threads of conversations started around last year's fire as if they happened yesterday.
There are also two kinds of family building. To some people 'family' is an exclusive term. They see the world in terms of 'them' and 'us', drawing a dividing line between who they are, and everyone else who isn't quite so lucky. I'm not saying that this approach is wrong, but my observation is that it is probably pretty lonely.
The other extreme is a family founded on inclusiveness. This is my experience, and there is no way any of the DNA search companies would be able to figure us out.
The standard joke about a family reunion not being a good place to look for future spouses hardly holds water when there are kids from second marriages and cousins of step grand children mixed in with the regulars, all of them welcomed as full family with no reservation. In-laws, out-laws, second marriages, children from previous relationships ... it's all the same to us. Come in, sit down, and have something to eat!
This year's gathering was special, being held at the family's home base - the original family farm now held by a fourth generation. Although the landscape of the yard has changed over the years it still holds enough landmarks to anchor memories of our younger selves. And right around the corner we gathered Sunday morning in the church (because that's the kind of thing this family does) and took part in a lay service (because, again, that is what this family does). In reflection on the reading about faith and love the brother who spoke gave credit for his family's faith and capacity for love to his parents' example. I've been thinking a lot about that while I worked on what I wanted to write today.
I absolutely agree that these people were good people and that they showed love and faith in their everyday lives, but it seems to me that the focus is too narrow if we single out their generation alone. The big picture is that obviously these two good people didn't appear out of a vacuum. They came from good people just as surely as they brought forth more good people. We are all welcoming and inclusive and kind, partly because of the example set for us, but also because it is just in us to be welcoming and inclusive and kind. We are all, singly, an example of the whole. It connects us much more profoundly than DNA.
We also have a tendency to have fun, eat too much, laugh a lot, cuddle babies, problem solve, tell stories, play games, and give each other a hard time. Pretty normal family stuff in my world.
Tuesday, August 15, 2017
What I Did On My Summer Holidays ....
Some things just stay with a person for life.
I was the nerdy kid who liked school. I liked learning. I liked books. I don't recall having any problem with lunchbox meals. And, since we only lived two miles from town, the bus ride was never much of a sacrifice of precious time either.
By this time of the year, while other students were dreading the end of August, I was merrily writing my name on all my new school supplies, sniffing the freshness of the unblemished notebooks, and wondering which desk I would be given for the coming year. On the Nerd-O-Nomiter I think this puts me at about a 9.6 out of 10.
Not that I wasn't also plagued with back-to-school angst; I had plenty of that too. We were a big family with a smaller income - other kids would have whole new wardrobes to show off whereas I would just have one or two new things. And fear of the unknown played a role in my anxiety - a new locker code to remember, new teachers to meet, and wishing that I could just stay with arithmetic because the word 'algebra' sounded terrifying. Above all this, though, was my concern over what I would have to report in one of the first assignments we would be given ... an essay on what we had done during our summer holidays.
I realize now that this was merely the simplest way to gauge the student's writing/expression skills while learning a little bit about them, but from my perspective I felt more like a reporter - more often than not a reporter without a story to tell. Other kids went places and did things I could only dream of (the year of Canada's Centennial was especially painful for me - how could I compete with a trip to Montreal?) My poor, pathetic, puny essay would be about hiking out to the birch tree slough, riding my bike to my uncle's house, finding kittens in the loft, putting pennies on the railroad tracks to get squished, picking wild strawberries, sleepovers at both Grandmas' houses and climbing sweet-smelling bale stacks. It was hardly worth putting down on paper. All the teacher was going to know about me was that my life was so boring!
This self assessment of how I spend my summers has followed me through life, though. This time of the year there is a subtle shift in the atmosphere that tells us summer is done. The grass is till green, the garden is producing like mad, the pool and the ice cream place are still open, but with the crickets chirping in the ditches and the hummingbirds feeding madly before they leave for Mexico summer's wain quietly seeps into our very bones. In the midst of harvesting crops and making pickles my mind turns to what my essay would say about this summer should someone ask me to write one.
2017's essay would be a doozy.
For starters I'm on the committee that planned and presented our community's Canada 150 celebration this July 1st. From the pancake breakfast to the pig roast to the fireworks; it takes months of planning to make one day a success. It still makes me tired (and proud) to think about what we accomplished.
From there I had a couple weeks to catch up on my yard and garden work before my next summer project landed on my doorstep - literally. Two little grandsons came to stay with us while their parents got settled in their new house. In the past month we have squeezed in numerous dinosaur hunts, pea picking and shelling lessons, wild flower bouquet quests, getting the quad stuck in the mud with grandpa, water fights with their cousins, and the art of snitching new potatoes without disturbing the plant. Add to that a family picnic/train ride/museum day, a camping sleepover at their cousins' place, and topping it all off with a family reunion before their parents took them home and it's safe to say at 61 years old I have just had the busiest summer of my life.
2017 isn't over yet - we still have another summer to aim for. Plans are now in the works for us to be in Australia to visit another set of grandchildren on their summer holidays. Two essays in six months! The nerd in me rejoices!
Some things just stay with a person for life.
I was the nerdy kid who liked school. I liked learning. I liked books. I don't recall having any problem with lunchbox meals. And, since we only lived two miles from town, the bus ride was never much of a sacrifice of precious time either.
By this time of the year, while other students were dreading the end of August, I was merrily writing my name on all my new school supplies, sniffing the freshness of the unblemished notebooks, and wondering which desk I would be given for the coming year. On the Nerd-O-Nomiter I think this puts me at about a 9.6 out of 10.
Not that I wasn't also plagued with back-to-school angst; I had plenty of that too. We were a big family with a smaller income - other kids would have whole new wardrobes to show off whereas I would just have one or two new things. And fear of the unknown played a role in my anxiety - a new locker code to remember, new teachers to meet, and wishing that I could just stay with arithmetic because the word 'algebra' sounded terrifying. Above all this, though, was my concern over what I would have to report in one of the first assignments we would be given ... an essay on what we had done during our summer holidays.
I realize now that this was merely the simplest way to gauge the student's writing/expression skills while learning a little bit about them, but from my perspective I felt more like a reporter - more often than not a reporter without a story to tell. Other kids went places and did things I could only dream of (the year of Canada's Centennial was especially painful for me - how could I compete with a trip to Montreal?) My poor, pathetic, puny essay would be about hiking out to the birch tree slough, riding my bike to my uncle's house, finding kittens in the loft, putting pennies on the railroad tracks to get squished, picking wild strawberries, sleepovers at both Grandmas' houses and climbing sweet-smelling bale stacks. It was hardly worth putting down on paper. All the teacher was going to know about me was that my life was so boring!
This self assessment of how I spend my summers has followed me through life, though. This time of the year there is a subtle shift in the atmosphere that tells us summer is done. The grass is till green, the garden is producing like mad, the pool and the ice cream place are still open, but with the crickets chirping in the ditches and the hummingbirds feeding madly before they leave for Mexico summer's wain quietly seeps into our very bones. In the midst of harvesting crops and making pickles my mind turns to what my essay would say about this summer should someone ask me to write one.
2017's essay would be a doozy.
For starters I'm on the committee that planned and presented our community's Canada 150 celebration this July 1st. From the pancake breakfast to the pig roast to the fireworks; it takes months of planning to make one day a success. It still makes me tired (and proud) to think about what we accomplished.
From there I had a couple weeks to catch up on my yard and garden work before my next summer project landed on my doorstep - literally. Two little grandsons came to stay with us while their parents got settled in their new house. In the past month we have squeezed in numerous dinosaur hunts, pea picking and shelling lessons, wild flower bouquet quests, getting the quad stuck in the mud with grandpa, water fights with their cousins, and the art of snitching new potatoes without disturbing the plant. Add to that a family picnic/train ride/museum day, a camping sleepover at their cousins' place, and topping it all off with a family reunion before their parents took them home and it's safe to say at 61 years old I have just had the busiest summer of my life.
2017 isn't over yet - we still have another summer to aim for. Plans are now in the works for us to be in Australia to visit another set of grandchildren on their summer holidays. Two essays in six months! The nerd in me rejoices!
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