FORWARD MOMENTUM

I woke up this morning and lay there reluctant to move.  Last week was full of places to be, volunteer missions to accomplish, and consulting and planning to get Tourism’s summer season off to a start so that I could dedicate this week to my own season opener work.  There is so much to do this time of year and the weather conditions have not been making it easy.

But, there is no use wimping about it – if I want to relax in the midst of pretty lawns and gardens during the summer I have to put in the work in the spring.  I had invested heavily (this sounds more responsible that saying ‘went wild and crazy’) at more than just one local greenhouse and all these pretty things needed to get outside where they could grow and flourish or my money would be wasted.  Thursday morning I got up, fortified myself with high octane caffeine wonder liquid, and dug in.  This is not a figurative term – in the past two days there has been a lot of digging going on.

I got a lot done that day.  It’s good to build up momentum while your muscles are unaware of how far you are going to push them.  For starters I finished filling my deck planters – that sounds simple but there is a lot of heavy lifting, soil mixing and walking involved with that job.  When my Fitbit informed me that I had already reached 10,000 steps by 10:00 in the morning I reconsidered my choice that it was wasteful to use the quad for all those little trips.  I didn’t know how many steps I actually had in me.

Besides, by that time I had tripped in a gopher hole while delivering a part to the field across the road – there were no immediate ill effects but at my age I know how that goes.  Walking back to the house I pondered which injury was going to cause me the most pain; the hip/knee fall or where I hit my hand with the hammer driving in a stake to mark my row of tomatoes. So far, it’s a tie.

After an early lunch I tackled the lawn.  So far this year it’s not a big job – a good portion of it is under water.  But it did take long enough to prove that sunscreen would have been a really good idea.  I have to relearn that lesson every single year. 

By this time my body started to complain, as I knew it would. I eased off on the physical stuff and instead stood in my greenhouse trying to imagine where all these bedding plants would do the best.  Deciding ‘the plan’ literally takes as much time and effort as planting does, but at least I could do it standing still.  Which, of course, was a mistake – standing still robbed me of any momentum I had left.  If the walk back to the house had been up hill I don’t think I would have made it.

Bravely I turned down the temptation of a glass of wine (the exact opposite of high octane morning go juice) and got supper in the oven.  There were still a few more things I had to do before dark … feed the heifers, pick asparagus, do a little bit of push mowing, and see if my little tiller could stir up the mud in my lower flower bed.  I made the animals happy, gathered asparagus, and prayed that neither the mower or tiller would start.  It’s a cruel world – they did.

The rest of the day is a blur; we ate and went to bed.  The fresh asparagus was delicious.

Day two was all about putting out bedding plants, hand tilling places that can’t be done any other way, kneeling, standing, walking, forgetting what you were going for, remembering when you get back, going again, and being sent off to town for a part again (My apologies for anyone who witnessed me in my gardening attire.  There was a time when I would have changed for a 15 minute town run; this rule no longer stands.)  I didn’t reach 10,000 steps until 1:33, obviously I had slowed down considerably but quitting is not an option.  The rest of the day was spent plodding forward and texting with my sister, comparing gardening progress and making sure we were both still upright.  We both got done what we wanted to before the rain – yay us!

There’s till more to do … veggie garden if it ever dries up enough to get out there, and back to volunteer Tourism stuff … more flowers and trees and painting … but that won’t be today.

As I mentioned, this morning I spent some time assessing aches and pains before actually moving.  My husband tells me that it’s easier to count the things that don’t hurt rather than listing the things that do.  So far today – 10:21 – and I’ve only made 1,072 steps.  Considering that my body has informed me that it’s on strike, I’m doing fine!

 

 

SIGNS OF A DESPERATE WOMAN

To the guy who drove by yesterday and witnessed me shovelling off the trampoline – don’t worry about me.  I’m fine. Really. I realize not everyone shovels off their trampoline but I needed an outside job that was doable. I figured I could handle an approximately 250 square foot surface so I grabbed a shovel and went to work.  At this point I will do anything just to be outside and accomplishing something.

I was wrong, by the way. It wasn’t doable – not in one go, anyway.  That snow weighs a ton and a wet trampoline is pretty slippery.

This time of year I am supposed to be sun burned or wind burned or both, having spent several days out cleaning up the yard and checking for asparagus and other perennials.  On any other year my Fitbit would be patting me on the back for all the steps I had racked up back and forth to my greenhouse and around the yard.  This year I do find myself pacing an indoor circuit, wandering from window to window, staring out at the never-ending winter and sighing in frustration.  My Fitbit languishes on the dresser, having given up the will to live.

By the way, in doing this I have discovered that all of my windows are dirty but I’m not that desperate for something to do.

Today I ventured out to take down the one last Christmas bow Mother Nature couldn’t rip from the house in her last hissy fit, and then went around picking up the ones she did manage to wreck.  From there I went on to annoy the dog and hauled his winter collection of bones over to the Loraas bin.  On my way back I re-opened the river channel that runs through our yard.  Spring runoff #2 is building pressure and the weather gal is promising a fast melt in the coming days.  There is a raft out there somewhere, under a snowbank where it was parked at the end of First Spring.

I’m contemplating filling the hummingbird feeders.  It’s hard to believe that they have shown up this early other years.  On the one hand I can’t picture them here as the same time as we have snow.  On the other hand, if they were to arrive this week they would be in great need of sugar water.  That would be a first – taking down Christmas decorations and putting up the bird feeders on the same day.

Not that all of the Christmas lights are down, but access to some of them is through water higher than my rubber boots.  They can wait.

I did take in the reflective markers off the edge of the driveway.  Surely there won’t be another storm where the guy clearing the snow needs to know where the road ends and the lawn starts? 

I know.  I know.  I probably jinxed it.

I just thought of another outside job that needs done.  I’m going to wash the windows on my car.  Just the windows though.  I literally can’t see out the side windows when I come to a corner. Given the mud situation out there to wash the whole vehicle is pointless, but it would be nice not to die at an intersection.

Maybe the guy who saw me shovelling the trampoline will spot me doing something a little more sensible today and take me off his Crazy Lady list.

 IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?

 

I sit here, the morning of April 22, 2022, awaiting yet another winter storm.  This has been going on for so long that my sense of reality is starting to slip.  I know that people around the world perceive Canada as the land of perpetual winter, but up until recently I thought I knew better.  We DO have distinct other seasons!  We DO have spring!  We DO have summer!  And we DO have my very favourite, autumn!  Winter is just one of four.

This year though, it seems that Mother Nature has other ideas. 

Did she just realize that all those prayers to fill up the dugouts were on back order and needed to be taken care of?  Is green not the ‘in’ colour for 2022?  Is she testing the survival instincts of all the poor birds who flew north expecting warm temperatures and available food?  Was the internet running short of stuck tractor pictures? Did Old Man Winter dare her to do it one more time?  Is she off her meds?

 I’m not sure that this eternal winter would be so painful if my Facebook memories weren’t full of years when April actually featured spring-like conditions.  Apparently six years ago I was installing a rock pathway/border around a flower bed and we were putting metal roofing on the quonset.   On numerous years the snow banks – even the ones in the trees – were gone.  Regular spring jobs were getting done: the lawnmower was being serviced, gardens were being tilled, outdoor Christmas decorations were being put away.

So far in 2022 none of these things have happened.  Not only are the snow banks still here, but they are being refurbished on a regular basis.  There was a short period of time when some of my gardens were visible, but only in the form of frozen mud.  The driveway has had to be cleared twice since we thought winter was over – and in all probability it will need it again once Mother Nature is over this next hissy fit.

I know this is slightly out of character for me, but I’m crying “uncle” here.  I want this nonsense to stop.  This is me saying ‘enough already!’

Prairie people are a little weather crazy.  We are not ones to shy away from the forces of nature.  We know our skies are big, our spaces immense, our weather extreme.  We bond over weather stories.  It’s the first topic of conversation when we meet each other.  I would wager that we possess, consult, and rely on more weather apps than anyone else on the planet.  Our whole mentality is to know how to survive (and then brag about) all weather adversity.  We are the ones who shake our fists at the sky after a hail storm flattens our crops and gardens and yell “Is that all you got?”  (I did mention we were crazy, didn’t I?)

This time though, Mother Nature seems to be using a new tactic.  We have proved we can handle the flash-in-the-pan power of summer storms, the crazy trampoline-wrecking winds, the baseball sized hail, and the stay-off-the-roads blizzards, so she has decided to wear us down with boring repetition.  How many spring blizzards is this in a row?  I’ve lost count.

I’ve even noticed that the weather forecasters, people known for their enthusiasm and hype of storm systems, are down-playing this next one.  Except for slightly warmer temperatures and therefore a higher potential for rain in some areas, this storm is every bit as bad as the last one – worse considering the winds are supposed to be higher – and yet instead of billing it as the once-in-30-years storm their comments are all low key.  It’s like they’ve heard what happens to the messenger and are trying to distance themselves.

But, the storm is headed this way all the same, and there’s really nothing to do.  We can’t stop it and all the preparations we did last week are all still in place. 

We are left with a “Bring it on!” attitude and the sincere hope that this one will get winter out of her system.

 TO SOOTHE MY FRAZZLED NERVES

Sooooo, the last time we talked I was waiting for my new computer to arrive.  As you might recall I was mourning having to lay the old girl to rest and feeling some trepidation about my future.  At the time I anticipated the transition was going to take place the very next day but it was a full week later before it arrived and I had the time to make the big change over.  First it didn’t get delivered when and how I expected, and then I had grandkids here all weekend.  I’m a one-thing-at-a-time kind of girl.  The ten-year-old grandson sure wanted to get right down to business and set everything up for me; in retrospect maybe I should have gone that route.

But, I didn’t.  I waited until Monday morning, and armed with an extra strong mug of coffee, made my way to my office to do one final check through what I had saved to external drives to make sure I had everything ready to move over from the old gal to the shiny new one.  It was a ‘go’.

I’m going to take a moment here to speak of my ancestral heritage.  I’m mostly Scottish.  The many things that this entails are: I have fair skin and blue eyes, I’m comfortable in a cooler climate, I love the sound of bagpipes, and I’m not one to throw my money around willy-nilly.  On the one hand, I will buy what I need and not scrimp on the basics; on the other hand, I’m pretty particulars what these basics are.

Hence, I purchased only the tower, mouse, and keyboard.  I didn’t need a new monitor.  My old one was just fine, thank you very much.

Except, when I hooked the new 2022 computer to the 2010 (or earlier, who knows?) monitor they would say “hi” to each other and then shut down.  No matter how many times I wiggled the plugs and double checked the ports it kept happening. Call #1 to someone who knows more than me resulted in the advice to “go buy a new monitor Jocelyn”.  So I did.

You know what?  They really don’t cost that much.  Their price is really minor … and I found out that the new ones are much easier on the eyes.  I wish I would have known that last year; I could have saved myself some serious eyestrain.  Maybe I don’t need new glasses after all.

Home I went with my new piece of the computer puzzle and hooked it up … to have the same thing happen all over again.  The computer and the monitor would acknowledge each other and shut down.  What did this mean?  Was my new computer a dud?  Time to place call #2 to someone else who knows more than me.  Luckily he was on a day off and happily said “Do you want me to come out to the farm, Mom?” His father (who knows zero about computers) just laughed when he saw the car pull into the yard and said “You had to call in the big guns, eh?”  No matter, he works for food.

And he was barely here long enough to rate a plain hamburger.  He took one look at the power bar, asked me what century it was from, plugged the computer into a different circuit than the monitor and we were instantly in business.  They would actually converse with each other … but the power bar still seemed to disapprove of what it was being asked to do.  It sounded like there was a switch that kept trying to flip.  I was told “Turn that sucker off and go get a new one!”  So I did.

I wish I could say that this cured all my woes, but no, it only solved that problem.

Once I had that new piece of the puzzle installed everything worked perfectly … until I tried to get my email.  The computer struggled to find Sasktel and dragged its feet to retrieve anything for me.  Of course everything about this computer looks different so I’m not even sure I’m doing things right.  Is it me?  Is it the computer?  Or, is it the Internet? Call #3 goes to yet another person who knows more than me – Sasktel troubleshooting.  I feel kind of sheepish about this one.  Somewhere in the past I have been given the same instructions: “Unplug your modem and wait 5 minutes, then plug it back in again.”  He tells me that a person should do this maybe twice per year … some kind of reset … maybe now that I’ve written it down I will remember.

So, that’s it, right?  Nothing else can go wrong, right?  Not so fast.

Remember when I said I had everything I wanted saved to memory sticks?  Well, I thought I did.  All my pictures are there.  Two large single files are there.  But, two other multiple files show up as empty.  I need them.  I want them on this computer.  I know where they are – they are on the old computer.  I merely have to unhook the new computer/mouse/keyboard and hook up the old computer/mouse/keyboard and retrieve them … and then reverse the hook up again.  Minor inconvenience, right?  I don’t even have to call anyone, I can do this on my own.

But, to tell you the truth, I’m feeling a bit stressed.  All I want to do is something relaxing.  Something that just feels natural to me, so I’m writing.  The keyboard feels different, the screen is doing strange new things, and I have no idea how I’m going to save this to copy and paste on my blog page, but that is my next challenge.

If you’re reading this it all turned out fine.  If you’re not I’ve got a date with a wine bottle

 

TECHNICAL TREPIDATION

I sit here today – a quiet Sunday afternoon – and worry about what tomorrow will bring.

I don’t mean to make light of other people’s problems; there are some truly awful things happening in this world right now and by no means are my worries anywhere close t theirs.  I have a roof over my head, a predictable food source, safe water to drink, and have never heard an air raid siren except on TV.  My life is blessed in these ways.

Neither do I, or anyone close to me, have a deadly disease.  The sun is shining and the sky is blue.  I even have the menu planned for supper ... I tell you, life is good.

And yet, tomorrow has me worried.

You see the computer I am writing on, my old friend and colleague, has been telling me in not-so-subtle terms lately that she is ready for retirement.  I hate to say she is getting balky about doing her work, but she certainly resists the tasks I ask her to do.  She drags her feet through even the simplest things like opening up my email.  Sometimes I have to ask her multiple times, and just when I think I will never get email again she relents and comes across with what I’ve requested. 

We go way back - I think nine or ten years, which let’s face it, in computer years is significant.  I’d like to say that we’ve learned much together but of course that’s not the way it works.  She came out of her box knowing everything she’s programmed for.  I, on the other hand, have learned about 50% of her capabilities over the decade we’ve known each other.  Oh, who am I kidding? I’d be stretching it to claim 33%.  Gotta say though, what I have figured out I’m pretty darned proud of.

I have taken better care of her than any of the previous models I’ve owned.  I know the trauma of facing the Blue Screen of Death.  I learned the hard way the importance of keeping virus and spyware detection up to date.  That’s not this gal’s problem; she just says “enough is enough” and wants to quit.  She has been laying down lots of hints since last summer, insisting I ask too much of her.  The final straw was when I tried to watch a live stream event in January and she just up and quit.  On the one hand, I am very proud I managed to get her up and running again all by myself (with a little bit of help from Google) but to say that I wasn’t shaken by the episode would be an outright lie.  I purchased some memory sticks and did some serious saving after that scare.

The writing was on the wall though.  I had to start thinking about what to do next.  It might have been ten years since I had to get my head around a new computer but the trauma of that time was still with me - I don’t adjust well to change.  Apparently, neither does this computer.

I’ve begun receiving notifications that there is a Windows update I need.  Now, at first I thought that this was going to be my savior.  That’s what the problem was!  All I needed was a free update and we’d be off to the races again.  Sadly, the opposite was true; the needed update WAS the problem.  When I tried to install it I immediately got a message that “This computer cannot support this update.”  I understand that you can’t teach old dogs new tricks but who knew that computers don’t have unlimited new trick capacity?

So, the matter was put in the hands of my computer guru son-in-law and a new tower/mouse/keyboard was purchased.  Due to computer chip availability I have had a full month to get used to the idea but I now have multiple emails from DELL and Canada Post saying I will have to step up my game tomorrow. 

I’ve been promised all kinds of technical support to get it all hooked up and any glitches worked out.  I’ve been at this computer thing for almost 30 years so my anxiety level isn’t as high as it once was, but I can’t say I’m looking forward to the next few weeks either. 

Meanwhile, this afternoon, my old friend and I are saying goodbye.  Her files are overflowing with stories, news articles, letters and eulogies we’ve composed together. We’ve written and published one book together and have a first draft of a novel to our names as well.  If the gods are with me this new model will sport the kinds of bells and whistles that make a writer’s life easier.

Wish me luck.

 

HOUSEBOUND

Okay, this is an apology for the whining I did six weeks ago.  The beginning of February is always a low point in the year for me and I couldn’t help myself.  I succumbed to the dreariness of endless, drab winter days and long, featureless nights.  Menu planning offered no excitement, food preparation lacked lustre, even going to town for groceries seemed more trouble that it was worth.  I ask you: why can’t we be a species who hibernates?  Think of the food bill savings!  And, I would wake up skinny!  Talk about win/win.

At any rate, that was six weeks ago.  Now, here I sit ... inside my house ... listening to the wind howl ... knowing that the roads are absolutely blocked because I barely made it home yesterday before this latest gale blew in ... fondly recalling the quaint days when winter had just arrived at its ‘boring’ stage.  Since then there have been all kinds of positive steps toward spring: we have noticeably gained more daylight, the Tourism committee has managed to find enough faith in spring to believe having a meeting is worth it, and I got a seed catalogue in the mail.  One would think things are looking up, but no, it still feels like winter will never end.

My Facebook memories page  greets me every morning with pictures of the past two years when I was already BBQing suppers on a sunny deck and the snow was down to a few patches scattered around the yard.  This was sending me into serious depression until this morning when the aftermath of the 2017 storm showed up and reminded me how fickle the month of March really is.  It’s given me the will to go on for a day or two more.

I tell myself that life is better now that it’s light out while we eat breakfast and supper.  I tell myself how much cheaper it is on gas when there is no grass to mow.  I tell myself that with all this snow we won’t have to worry about water shortages this year.  I see that the temperature in my greenhouse is plus 18 on the sunny days and I tell myself to go out there and soak up some of that sun.  Myself immediately tells me “Forget that! We dug our way out there in January and you can’t even tell where that trail was!” She’s right of course, the snow is up past the door knob at the back of the house. Myself is a pretty smart gal.

Besides, if I was going to tunnel anywhere it would be out to my clothesline so I could hang socks and face cloths out there.  Nothing else would fit between the snow and the line.

I’ve done all the winter things I usually do – even the tax books are ready to go.  I pretty much follow the pets around with my vacuum cleaner because their way to greet spring is to cover everything in hair.  I’ve even started some cuttings to fill my planters this summer.  It feels wonderful to see the color green in my window.  I’m even psyched to go weeding because at least that means being outside in the sunshine.  Myself tells me that will wear off, she knows me so well.

Heck I’ve even finished round one on a book I’ve been writing.

All I’ve got left is watching TV but these past days I’ve been struggling with that.  The scenes from Ukraine are humbling me, and breaking me, and leaving me sick at heart.  How I wish I could transplant some of those forlorn women and children to my big, rambling farm house. 

As much as I want my winter doldrums to be over, as I do every year, watching this horror unfold shrinks my petty wants and needs to nothing.  Being housebound is suddenly a luxury.

 

 

Cause, Courage, and Consequences

February 24, 2022 I found myself sitting in the dentist’s chair enduring that period of anxiety between when they give you the freezing needle and when you get to find out for sure that it worked.  It’s time spent alone to think your own thoughts and listen to the high pitched whine of drills being used on other patients. The dentist’s chair is not my happy place.

But this morning there was lots to think about.  Putin was on the move. His plans of war had been put into motion during the night. Cities full of people were being bombed; hundreds of thousands of Ukrainians were on the run. By nightfall, how many innocent people would be dead because of this evil man’s ego? And this was only day one; wars don’t end in one day.

The office where I sat was warm and safe; Garth Brooks sang The Dance on the music system. Soon that nasty cavity would be a thing of my past and I could go have lunch and visit with a good friend; plans we made weeks ago.  And yet I couldn’t get the news video of almost deadlocked traffic trying to escape Kyiv out of my mind.  Those poor people had made plans for February 24 as well ... every day things like dentist appointments, dance lessons for their little girls, soccer for their boys after school ... and now, here they were crowded into their cars with everything they could squeeze in, not knowing where they were headed, watching their gas gauges go down and distressing about being able to buy more. 

My generation is acquainted with war ... or I should say stories of war.  We have heard about our grandfather’s Great War (although I’ve never felt that any war should be given the designation ‘great’), we’ve watched countless movies of the second world war, and our window into the Korean War was the show M*A*S*H  on TV.   We see war through the safety of a camera lens.  We don’t know the smell of death in the streets.  We don’t know the terror of running for bomb shelters or the sick feeling of living through the attack to find our house is nothing but rubble when we try to go home.  We can’t imagine what it would be like to be stopped by soldiers and asked for proof of who we are, knowing that this man has the power to decide if we live or die.

Tonight one of the news stories is not of Ukrainians fleeing but of Russians protesting against their government, against Putin himself, for starting this war. Imagine that. Standing up and saying “NO” to a man who poisons and imprisons and murders anyone he sees as an obstacle to his plans. They know that being arrested – even a Russian arrest – would be the lightest penalty they could hope for.  And yet they came and marched and sang their anthem in an effort to stop the war and save both Russian and Ukrainian lives.  The stakes couldn’t be higher.

Their cause is larger than just themselves, they show great courage in the face of real peril, the consequences of their actions could well be fatal, and yet they make their stand.

These are people who recognize they have a responsibility to humanity to stand up for what is right.  They want Putin to stop and they want the world to know that they don’t support his actions. As I sit in my safe dentist chair on the other side of the world I feel humbled by their sacrifice and pray that some good will come of it.