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.
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
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!
Monday, July 10, 2017
GARDENING 101
You could probably say I've been a gardener all my life. That's not to say I've been a good gardener all my life, or even a willing gardener all my life, but I that I have gardening memories back as far back as I can remember anything - that much is true.
I remember helping mom plant the garden - I wonder whose idea that was? Having been a mom myself I know that there are some jobs that are easier done without the help of a small child and planting tiny seeds would be one of them. All the same, I recall feeling that I was helping to do an important job - and believe me, with a family of seven kids, growing a big garden is very important.
I remember her explaining how to make the rows, how to take into consideration the size of the seed when covering them with dirt, how to deal with weightless seeds on a windy day, and how all seeds had to be pressed into the soil so they could be securely in where they could access moisture for germination. It always seemed mean to me that I should pack them so hard and still expect them to make it back out of the earth, but of course she was right and I was wrong. She was a fountain of gardening knowledge and thankfully I had enough brains to listen and learn.
I got the basics from mom, and judging from the rest of the family's interest in growing things, I would say that I came by my desire to garden through my very DNA. That's not to say that I haven't had some painfully embarrassing failures over the years, but every season has taught me something and my gardening knowledge continues to expand. It's not only that though; gardening ties me to the earth ,and the time I spend working with the plants and in the soil is a time of meditation and memories of the people who have shared both their knowledge and their plants with me. The veggies might be good for my body, but the experience is good for my soul.
I don't know where the time has gone but I find myself in my sixth decade and have lived in the same place now for 35 years. That kind of time lapse and permanence has given me what it takes to build a park-like yard with substantial gardens - both vegetable and flower. I will never be 'done' because as time goes by I am inspired by others' ideas or my own imagination. Just this past year we have begun to establish an orchard as well, and maybe a bit of a market garden. Heaven knows we will never be able to eat all the asparagus, strawberries, raspberries, and saskatoons we have growing out there ourselves. We will decide what to do at a later date - meanwhile it's just fun to watch it all grow.
It's funny how a person is unaware of just how much they know on any given subject until they are asked to pass their knowledge on. I got a call from my baby sister (she's ten years younger than me - you do the math, but she'll always be the 'baby' sister); she had some gardening questions.
While we do have the same parents, our growing up experience was different: my entire childhood was on the farm with the big garden but hers only started there, she grew up a town kid. And then she married a guy whose job took them to a city where yard space was more important than garden space. Until their son bought an acreage the idea of a garden wasn't even a thing ... but with this opportunity those gardening genetics had awakened - ground has been tilled, rows have been planted.
She had a list of things she needed to know ... were gardening gloves a good idea? (YES!) And what was 'hilling' potatoes? Why did one do it, and how was it done? On the one hand how could anyone not know this? On the other hand, I guess potato hilling doesn't come up in casual conversation all that much.
A subsequent phone call thanked me for the tip on garden gloves and while we were talking she marvelled about how the carrot seeds must have blown or washed all over the garden because she had carrots everywhere. I told her to rub the leaves of one of her wayward carrots together to see if they didn't smell a lot like dill - another mystery solved. It came in handy as they had wanted to make pickles and had forgotten to plant any themselves.
It was a few nights later that we talked again and I smiled at what she said. I have written from time to time about my musings while I garden - how my time weeding flower beds or picking peas and beans is often spent in the happy, comfortable company of people important in my life even though I am all alone. It was obvious from her comments that she had planted vegetable seeds true enough, and wanted to harvest good things to eat, but she had also been hoping for her own private crop of memories too ... and her first garden was already bearing this kind of fruit.
You could probably say I've been a gardener all my life. That's not to say I've been a good gardener all my life, or even a willing gardener all my life, but I that I have gardening memories back as far back as I can remember anything - that much is true.
I remember helping mom plant the garden - I wonder whose idea that was? Having been a mom myself I know that there are some jobs that are easier done without the help of a small child and planting tiny seeds would be one of them. All the same, I recall feeling that I was helping to do an important job - and believe me, with a family of seven kids, growing a big garden is very important.
I remember her explaining how to make the rows, how to take into consideration the size of the seed when covering them with dirt, how to deal with weightless seeds on a windy day, and how all seeds had to be pressed into the soil so they could be securely in where they could access moisture for germination. It always seemed mean to me that I should pack them so hard and still expect them to make it back out of the earth, but of course she was right and I was wrong. She was a fountain of gardening knowledge and thankfully I had enough brains to listen and learn.
I got the basics from mom, and judging from the rest of the family's interest in growing things, I would say that I came by my desire to garden through my very DNA. That's not to say that I haven't had some painfully embarrassing failures over the years, but every season has taught me something and my gardening knowledge continues to expand. It's not only that though; gardening ties me to the earth ,and the time I spend working with the plants and in the soil is a time of meditation and memories of the people who have shared both their knowledge and their plants with me. The veggies might be good for my body, but the experience is good for my soul.
I don't know where the time has gone but I find myself in my sixth decade and have lived in the same place now for 35 years. That kind of time lapse and permanence has given me what it takes to build a park-like yard with substantial gardens - both vegetable and flower. I will never be 'done' because as time goes by I am inspired by others' ideas or my own imagination. Just this past year we have begun to establish an orchard as well, and maybe a bit of a market garden. Heaven knows we will never be able to eat all the asparagus, strawberries, raspberries, and saskatoons we have growing out there ourselves. We will decide what to do at a later date - meanwhile it's just fun to watch it all grow.
It's funny how a person is unaware of just how much they know on any given subject until they are asked to pass their knowledge on. I got a call from my baby sister (she's ten years younger than me - you do the math, but she'll always be the 'baby' sister); she had some gardening questions.
While we do have the same parents, our growing up experience was different: my entire childhood was on the farm with the big garden but hers only started there, she grew up a town kid. And then she married a guy whose job took them to a city where yard space was more important than garden space. Until their son bought an acreage the idea of a garden wasn't even a thing ... but with this opportunity those gardening genetics had awakened - ground has been tilled, rows have been planted.
She had a list of things she needed to know ... were gardening gloves a good idea? (YES!) And what was 'hilling' potatoes? Why did one do it, and how was it done? On the one hand how could anyone not know this? On the other hand, I guess potato hilling doesn't come up in casual conversation all that much.
A subsequent phone call thanked me for the tip on garden gloves and while we were talking she marvelled about how the carrot seeds must have blown or washed all over the garden because she had carrots everywhere. I told her to rub the leaves of one of her wayward carrots together to see if they didn't smell a lot like dill - another mystery solved. It came in handy as they had wanted to make pickles and had forgotten to plant any themselves.
It was a few nights later that we talked again and I smiled at what she said. I have written from time to time about my musings while I garden - how my time weeding flower beds or picking peas and beans is often spent in the happy, comfortable company of people important in my life even though I am all alone. It was obvious from her comments that she had planted vegetable seeds true enough, and wanted to harvest good things to eat, but she had also been hoping for her own private crop of memories too ... and her first garden was already bearing this kind of fruit.
Tuesday, July 4, 2017
THE HEAT IS ON ...
The month of June has been a busy one around here with everyone working flat out to put together a celebration worthy of Canada's 150th birthday. I am most proud to say on behalf of the Tourism Board who planned it, the volunteers who stepped up and helped out, and the folks who came out to play slow pitch, those who put an entry in the parade, the gals who provided the sparkle Canadian tattoos for everyone to wear with pride, everyone who supported the Lion's club at the dunk tank - especially the volunteers who were dunked - and the firemen who managed the fireworks display, the day came together as resounding success! And from the pancake breakfast in the morning, the concession stand all day long, the pig roast for supper, the birthday cake and ice cream and the beer garden to end off the day no one should have gone home hungry either. It was a good day.
July 2nd I, for one, just laid low. It was so nice to not have to go anywhere or do anything for the first time in weeks that my biggest effort of the day was spent making the evening meal. The day ended off with neighbours dropping in for a beer - the perfect start to 'real summer'.
Mother Nature seems to have realized that 'real summer' is here too; the temperature has climbed noticeable in the past two days. The crops will really start to jump in development with the heat - especially corn. Pretty sure if a person had the time you could sit and watch it grow hour to hour as long as there is sufficient moisture to fuel it.
Different parts of the prairies have had varied amounts of rainfall so far this year. Even just an hour's drive away makes a difference. Our daughter worries that her garden won't survive and yet mine should be okay if we don't get another rain for a while.
With July here we prairie dwellers get pretty antsy about the weather. The weather forecasters are always aiming to please urbanites who want hot temperatures and beach weather but farmers look for more moderate temperatures and a regular schedule of rainfall. Those of us with crops and gardens are leery about really hot days - not only because of the stress it puts on the plants and how much it evaporates what water there is, but because big heat has the potential to brew up big storms with big winds and big hail. A storm might be an hour long inconvenience for holiday goers at the lake but for a farmer it can be a season ender. It makes us a bunch of sky watchers.
I'm not the kind of person who loves the heat at the best of times so when the temperature popped up into the 30's I retreated inside. We don't have air conditioning but if we keep the windows open all night and close them first thing in the morning the house stays pretty cool all day. Yesterday I picked the strawberries early in the morning and spent the afternoon inside making jam. I had "water the flowers on the deck" on my list of things to do at some point during the day but as I was doing the dishes I noticed that some of them were starting to keel over in the heat. How ironic that it was the Forget-me-nots who were in the worst shape! I must make sure that it doesn't happen again.
Next on my list for the summer is getting ready for visiting grandsons at mid month. I hope the strawberries are still producing for them - Grandma and Grandpa want to show them all the fun things that happen on the farm that their mommy grew up on. The other night when we were outside trying to catch a glimpse of the Northern Lights through the clouds we were treated to lightning bugs dancing around in the dark instead. How many other treasures have I forgotten we have since our own kids are grown and gone? I have less than two weeks to put a list of "things to do" together!
The month of June has been a busy one around here with everyone working flat out to put together a celebration worthy of Canada's 150th birthday. I am most proud to say on behalf of the Tourism Board who planned it, the volunteers who stepped up and helped out, and the folks who came out to play slow pitch, those who put an entry in the parade, the gals who provided the sparkle Canadian tattoos for everyone to wear with pride, everyone who supported the Lion's club at the dunk tank - especially the volunteers who were dunked - and the firemen who managed the fireworks display, the day came together as resounding success! And from the pancake breakfast in the morning, the concession stand all day long, the pig roast for supper, the birthday cake and ice cream and the beer garden to end off the day no one should have gone home hungry either. It was a good day.
July 2nd I, for one, just laid low. It was so nice to not have to go anywhere or do anything for the first time in weeks that my biggest effort of the day was spent making the evening meal. The day ended off with neighbours dropping in for a beer - the perfect start to 'real summer'.
Mother Nature seems to have realized that 'real summer' is here too; the temperature has climbed noticeable in the past two days. The crops will really start to jump in development with the heat - especially corn. Pretty sure if a person had the time you could sit and watch it grow hour to hour as long as there is sufficient moisture to fuel it.
Different parts of the prairies have had varied amounts of rainfall so far this year. Even just an hour's drive away makes a difference. Our daughter worries that her garden won't survive and yet mine should be okay if we don't get another rain for a while.
With July here we prairie dwellers get pretty antsy about the weather. The weather forecasters are always aiming to please urbanites who want hot temperatures and beach weather but farmers look for more moderate temperatures and a regular schedule of rainfall. Those of us with crops and gardens are leery about really hot days - not only because of the stress it puts on the plants and how much it evaporates what water there is, but because big heat has the potential to brew up big storms with big winds and big hail. A storm might be an hour long inconvenience for holiday goers at the lake but for a farmer it can be a season ender. It makes us a bunch of sky watchers.
I'm not the kind of person who loves the heat at the best of times so when the temperature popped up into the 30's I retreated inside. We don't have air conditioning but if we keep the windows open all night and close them first thing in the morning the house stays pretty cool all day. Yesterday I picked the strawberries early in the morning and spent the afternoon inside making jam. I had "water the flowers on the deck" on my list of things to do at some point during the day but as I was doing the dishes I noticed that some of them were starting to keel over in the heat. How ironic that it was the Forget-me-nots who were in the worst shape! I must make sure that it doesn't happen again.
Next on my list for the summer is getting ready for visiting grandsons at mid month. I hope the strawberries are still producing for them - Grandma and Grandpa want to show them all the fun things that happen on the farm that their mommy grew up on. The other night when we were outside trying to catch a glimpse of the Northern Lights through the clouds we were treated to lightning bugs dancing around in the dark instead. How many other treasures have I forgotten we have since our own kids are grown and gone? I have less than two weeks to put a list of "things to do" together!
Thursday, June 29, 2017
CANADA'S BIG 1-5-0
We are a people who like to mark milestones. From the birth of a baby onward we count first the days, the weeks, and then the months until the first year is feted by poking a candle in a cake and singing a song in celebration. Our years tick by in a succession of such celebrations while we grow and learn and mature. Time flies by.
As adults we focus less on the individual years and more on measuring by decade. Our friends and family begin to make a big deal out of when we reach "the big 4-0". And then "the big 5-0". And then, barely the blink of an eye later, "the big 6-0" and "the big 7-0" too. By this time the field of competition is starting to thin out; these big days become even more note-worthy. Before we know it the milestone of 100 years has been achieved and some reporter is sticking a microphone in our face and asking us how we've made it this far. Who would have thought it was even possible when we uttered our first cry a century ago?
One hundred years is a significant thing when measuring a human lifespan, but in world history it's nothing. Even in recorded history it barely counts as a blip. If you compare one measly century with the age of such things as Aztec ruins, Egyptian pyramids, or the mystery that is Stonehenge our time as a country is puny and of no consequence.
And yet, here we are, celebrating our country's birthday: Canada's big 1-5-0. And puny as that number is, this a big deal and one deserving of celebration.
Countries aren't made - they form. They coalesce out of the common needs and aspirations of the people who populate the land. Whether it be the primitive cave-dwellers of the past or the sophisticated 21st centurions we think of ourselves as, our safety, security, and prosperity are still the common focus that bring us together. The specific threats and currencies have evolved over time but our very nature is wired to understand that there is strength in numbers, power in diversity, and richness in culture when we work and live together in peace. This is as true now as it always has been - we band together under common goals to make all of our lives richer.
What is different about Canada and a handful of other countries is that we have an actual birth certificate. We were "born" on July 1st 1867: we know how old we are. Our formation was not like that of the ancient nations of Europe and Asia, done over millennia. But,our Fathers of Confederation did take into consideration all the lessons of world history and tried their best to prepare a path into the future with this new experiment of Canada and we formed our wonderful country out of our desire for strength and unity and the wisdom to follow their leadership.
To be sure we are a work in progress; we have made mistakes but we have gotten some things right too. As nations go we are just barely cutting our baby teeth but we are healthy and strong and other nations look up to us. As we step into the future we are poised for a leadership role.
Typically when we observe a birthday it tends to be a look back at the journey that has brought us to this point, but as we sing Oh Canada in celebration this year and take in the fireworks at the end of this day it seems like the perfect time in history to turn our attention and look in the other direction - toward the future. Let this be a celebration of where we are headed as Canadians.
HAPPY CANADA DAY !
We are a people who like to mark milestones. From the birth of a baby onward we count first the days, the weeks, and then the months until the first year is feted by poking a candle in a cake and singing a song in celebration. Our years tick by in a succession of such celebrations while we grow and learn and mature. Time flies by.
As adults we focus less on the individual years and more on measuring by decade. Our friends and family begin to make a big deal out of when we reach "the big 4-0". And then "the big 5-0". And then, barely the blink of an eye later, "the big 6-0" and "the big 7-0" too. By this time the field of competition is starting to thin out; these big days become even more note-worthy. Before we know it the milestone of 100 years has been achieved and some reporter is sticking a microphone in our face and asking us how we've made it this far. Who would have thought it was even possible when we uttered our first cry a century ago?
One hundred years is a significant thing when measuring a human lifespan, but in world history it's nothing. Even in recorded history it barely counts as a blip. If you compare one measly century with the age of such things as Aztec ruins, Egyptian pyramids, or the mystery that is Stonehenge our time as a country is puny and of no consequence.
And yet, here we are, celebrating our country's birthday: Canada's big 1-5-0. And puny as that number is, this a big deal and one deserving of celebration.
Countries aren't made - they form. They coalesce out of the common needs and aspirations of the people who populate the land. Whether it be the primitive cave-dwellers of the past or the sophisticated 21st centurions we think of ourselves as, our safety, security, and prosperity are still the common focus that bring us together. The specific threats and currencies have evolved over time but our very nature is wired to understand that there is strength in numbers, power in diversity, and richness in culture when we work and live together in peace. This is as true now as it always has been - we band together under common goals to make all of our lives richer.
What is different about Canada and a handful of other countries is that we have an actual birth certificate. We were "born" on July 1st 1867: we know how old we are. Our formation was not like that of the ancient nations of Europe and Asia, done over millennia. But,our Fathers of Confederation did take into consideration all the lessons of world history and tried their best to prepare a path into the future with this new experiment of Canada and we formed our wonderful country out of our desire for strength and unity and the wisdom to follow their leadership.
To be sure we are a work in progress; we have made mistakes but we have gotten some things right too. As nations go we are just barely cutting our baby teeth but we are healthy and strong and other nations look up to us. As we step into the future we are poised for a leadership role.
Typically when we observe a birthday it tends to be a look back at the journey that has brought us to this point, but as we sing Oh Canada in celebration this year and take in the fireworks at the end of this day it seems like the perfect time in history to turn our attention and look in the other direction - toward the future. Let this be a celebration of where we are headed as Canadians.
HAPPY CANADA DAY !
Wednesday, June 14, 2017
COMFORT ZONE
There are perks afforded to country dwellers that people who live in towns and cities can only dream of. Of course there is the fresh air, acres of green space, and every day interaction with Mother Nature's creatures to name a few, but the best thing for me is the privacy.
I don't say this to make it sound like our neighbourhood is high end exclusive or that we don't want visitors because folks are always welcome to stop by for a cup of coffee or a cold beer, depending on the day. My meaning of privacy is very laid-back and unpretentious and probably not an easy concept to explain to people who live surrounded by other people.
Although we live seven miles from town we do have neighbours who live closer than that ... like two miles away. We can see their yard lights at night and hear their dogs bark if we're outside and the wind is from the right direction. Otherwise we are alone with the foxes, coyotes, gophers and the odd moose or deer who wander through. When the pond at the low end of our yard fills with water we have ducks calling it home, and we wake each summer morning to the soft coo-cooing of Mourning Doves and the cheerful chirping of Robins. Our deck is like Grande Central Station for hummingbirds all summer long between the flowers and feeders I have out there to invite them into our space. While I was preparing lunch an hour ago there were at least four of the tiny warriors trying to claim ownership of the airspace between the two feeders. I love to sit and watch them in the afternoon.
The feeling of privacy isn't all about being simply far enough away from population to have lots of wildlife though. It's more about the comfortable solitude we enjoy on a day to day basis.
My favourite thing to do after I pour myself my second mug of coffee these days is to drink it on the deck. The rose at the back door is in full bloom at the moment and the scent is everything a rose is supposed to be. I check the state of my planters and decide if they will need watering and then wander on to my rock garden to see how things are growing there, pulling the odd weed as I go. Before I know it I am in the back yard assessing which of the vegetables I've planted will be the first one to be ready ... I'm betting the radishes will win again this year but the lettuce and spinach aren't far behind.
Since I've got that far I turn toward the big garden/orchard east of the house and inspect it for weeds and potential strawberry readiness. By the time I am done my coffee I am a long way from the house, which is nothing unusual except that I'm still wearing my pyjamas. There is no worry about being caught at this too-lazy-to-get-dressed-yet game because in the quiet of the countryside I can hear any vehicle coming from miles away and have plenty of time to make my way back to the house should I need to. They say that your home is your castle, and where city dwellers can claim that kind of comfort within their walls we rural people can expand the luxury well beyond our doors.
Many years ago I had a conversation with a guy from Toronto who was filming a documentary about rural issues. We were standing in our barnyard and he was trying to capture the illusive sizzly sound of grasshoppers and crickets in the grass in late summer. As is usual with city visitors he asked how much land we owned and I was trying to explain what a quarter section was. He told me about the duplex he lived in and how much it cost. What he said next has always stuck with me: gesturing to our yard - large lawn, gardens, house and out buildings that every farm has - he said that this is what millionaires sought to own. To be this far away from the noise and hustle of the city, to have the green space and natural surroundings, and above all the solitude and privacy - these were the things wealthy people spent their money on.
There are two ways to measure value: one is by using the measuring stick of the almighty dollar. And the other is by merely recognising how lucky you are to have something that you love.
I'm no millionaire, but when I'm on my early morning pyjama stroll I sure do feel like one.
There are perks afforded to country dwellers that people who live in towns and cities can only dream of. Of course there is the fresh air, acres of green space, and every day interaction with Mother Nature's creatures to name a few, but the best thing for me is the privacy.
I don't say this to make it sound like our neighbourhood is high end exclusive or that we don't want visitors because folks are always welcome to stop by for a cup of coffee or a cold beer, depending on the day. My meaning of privacy is very laid-back and unpretentious and probably not an easy concept to explain to people who live surrounded by other people.
Although we live seven miles from town we do have neighbours who live closer than that ... like two miles away. We can see their yard lights at night and hear their dogs bark if we're outside and the wind is from the right direction. Otherwise we are alone with the foxes, coyotes, gophers and the odd moose or deer who wander through. When the pond at the low end of our yard fills with water we have ducks calling it home, and we wake each summer morning to the soft coo-cooing of Mourning Doves and the cheerful chirping of Robins. Our deck is like Grande Central Station for hummingbirds all summer long between the flowers and feeders I have out there to invite them into our space. While I was preparing lunch an hour ago there were at least four of the tiny warriors trying to claim ownership of the airspace between the two feeders. I love to sit and watch them in the afternoon.
The feeling of privacy isn't all about being simply far enough away from population to have lots of wildlife though. It's more about the comfortable solitude we enjoy on a day to day basis.
My favourite thing to do after I pour myself my second mug of coffee these days is to drink it on the deck. The rose at the back door is in full bloom at the moment and the scent is everything a rose is supposed to be. I check the state of my planters and decide if they will need watering and then wander on to my rock garden to see how things are growing there, pulling the odd weed as I go. Before I know it I am in the back yard assessing which of the vegetables I've planted will be the first one to be ready ... I'm betting the radishes will win again this year but the lettuce and spinach aren't far behind.
Since I've got that far I turn toward the big garden/orchard east of the house and inspect it for weeds and potential strawberry readiness. By the time I am done my coffee I am a long way from the house, which is nothing unusual except that I'm still wearing my pyjamas. There is no worry about being caught at this too-lazy-to-get-dressed-yet game because in the quiet of the countryside I can hear any vehicle coming from miles away and have plenty of time to make my way back to the house should I need to. They say that your home is your castle, and where city dwellers can claim that kind of comfort within their walls we rural people can expand the luxury well beyond our doors.
Many years ago I had a conversation with a guy from Toronto who was filming a documentary about rural issues. We were standing in our barnyard and he was trying to capture the illusive sizzly sound of grasshoppers and crickets in the grass in late summer. As is usual with city visitors he asked how much land we owned and I was trying to explain what a quarter section was. He told me about the duplex he lived in and how much it cost. What he said next has always stuck with me: gesturing to our yard - large lawn, gardens, house and out buildings that every farm has - he said that this is what millionaires sought to own. To be this far away from the noise and hustle of the city, to have the green space and natural surroundings, and above all the solitude and privacy - these were the things wealthy people spent their money on.
There are two ways to measure value: one is by using the measuring stick of the almighty dollar. And the other is by merely recognising how lucky you are to have something that you love.
I'm no millionaire, but when I'm on my early morning pyjama stroll I sure do feel like one.
Friday, June 2, 2017
ANTICIPATION
We are ready. We are so ready.
The month of May has come and gone without a drop of rain in most places. Farmers were out there in the fields as soon as the ground was warm enough and had a clear month long run of seeding. Mother Nature just sat back and let them get the crop in the ground. On the one hand it was great to have day after endless day to do the work, on the other hand it was one endless day after another with no rain-induced down time. But, as everyone who gathered for beer and pizza on Wednesday night to celebrate the end of seeding agreed - it is sure great to be done.
There is all kinds of residual moisture in the ground. Last fall had a lot of rain and the snow pack this winter was higher than normal too. Our basement sump pump has slowed down some in the last week or so but still cuts in regularly; the water table is not that far down.
In the past few days though, our weather has gone from super, crazy windy and a little on the chilly side, to just plain hot. I got my first sun burn of the season mowing grass yesterday because it was just so nice not to have to wear a coat and mitts that I never even thought I would need a hat and sunscreen. I'm paying for it today.
Whether it be lettuce and tomatoes in the garden or canola and barley in the fields, everything could use a big drink of cool rain now. Even though there is moisture in the ground we farmers and gardeners have turned our attention to the sky ... well okay, that's not exactly true any more. The old fashioned way was to look to the skies, now-a-days we open the weather app on our phones and try to peek into the future that way. It's every bit as reliable as cloud watching but the little video showing those coloured radar images moving across the blue dot that is us inspires high tech hope.
With the temperature at 32 degrees and the sun glaring down today we are investing a lot of hope in the weather forecast video. The actual warnings are for Manitoba but we only live 10 miles from the border so it's easy enough to mentally include our farm under their clouds; surely they will share?
The best kind of rain is a day long soaker - a gentle, steady rainfall that gives the ground time to drink it all in, but the weather system that they are talking about for today is not that. Their warnings are all about unstable air masses and cold fronts which spell out thunderstorms in the weather world. It means long odds, hit and miss possibilities, a downpour five miles away and not a drop at our place, being able to smell the rain, but not taste it. Who needs to go to Vegas to gamble?
Beggars can't be choosers though; we'll take whatever we can get ... and if all we get is to watch the light show, feel the thunder, and smell the rain ... well, we'll take that too.
This family is a bunch of storm watchers and we have the perfect deck for it. About two thirds of the deck is covered; the perfect place to sit and appreciate the power of a summer storm. Rain, hail - it doesn't matter because we're safe under the roof. It's like having the best seats in the theatre, and the door is just a few steps away if the wind turns on us and suddenly gusts out of the south or east.
Through the window above my computer screen I can see the clouds forming and I'm tempted to check the weather app again to see if anything has changed. Or, if I went outside would I be able to hear thunder in the distance? We've stacked the odds as much as we can think to do ... I watered my flower beds and Glen spent last night and this morning pumping out the slough at the bottom of the yard so it can dry up and I can mow it too ... now we'll just have to wait and see if we get anything out of it.
But we are ready. We are so ready!
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