You might think one would get bored sitting staring out into a small front yard of trees every evening, but I am here to tell you this is not so. There are many things to amuse a person.
As many of you may know my husband has been a diver for many years. One of the perks of his job is the strange things he finds on the beach. This is an example of just one of these things. It is a whalebone vertebra from somewhere in the Queen Charlotte Islands or as he calls it “The Charlotte’s.” This whalebone has been with us for many years. Once when we were renting up on a property with a neighbour who had a fat old friendly dog named Baby—I came home to find Baby happily gnawing away at the side of this bone, unaware that we may get upset. We had put it in the front garden as a kind of ornament. Imagine the moment that dog came upon this bone. Bonanza! (For a dog) We decided our best bet was to attach it to a tree where it would be safe from dogs.
Well, wouldn’t you know the other day we noticed a naughty squirrel sitting on the edge of it, nibbling away—scritch, scritch, scritch. It certainly couldn’t still be flavourful after all these years?
Our young neighbour often talks to us through the garden fence, so when my husband was explaining this story to him as he was watering, he had to make up a pleasant child-friendly name for this squirrel.Thus the name Badboy. He is quite amusing to watch, slinging himself from tree to tree, often stopping to natter at us in a very high pitched way. He reminds me of the very naughty Squirrel Nutkin story by the author Beatrix Potter. He has all the same poor character qualities. He has been known to run off with our raspberries. And although I know it is nice to share. It is hard to share with this little guy.
As many of you may know, I just recently moved back to a little Gulf Island. And although I am enjoying my return, I realize that there are many things that one needs to prepare for in order to live here.
It is not just easy living out here you know.
Here is my list of important items that you must have ready at all times:
One must always remember to pack your berry picking attire and keep it in the trunk of your car if you are able. You must have an old pair of jeans, a long sleeved jacket…or shirt, something that will protect the skin of your arms… an old pair of runners, gardening gloves and a clean bucket or I like to use a big stock pot with handles. I also like to bring an old metal hanger bent into a hook shape. I sometimes throw in a pair of snippers to cut back big ol thick spiky branches that are in the way of the mother lode of blackberries. This is serious business folks. I often fill my deep freeze full of free antioxidant producing berries, enough to feed my family and what ever friends come over for the year. Next-
For collecting clams and oysters. One needs on hand and at the ready, a good shovel for clams, a clean bucket… not the one for berries and an oyster knife so that you can shuck it on the beach and leave the shells behind. You must have good rubber boots and a little clean yogurt container ready to go at all times so you are ready when the tides are right at Brickyard Beach.
For swimming… always have a little bag in your car if possible, with dry towels, a good book, (don’t forget your glasses), your bathing suit and old sandals in case you pick a barnacled beach. The man ( as the blogger of Frugal Endeavors refers to her man, instead of significant other)– says we must always have his metal detector at the ready…we would keep it in the trunk if it wasn’t so full… we may have to buy a van for all this gear.
For the ferry lineup-a clean cooler with ice for groceries. Some water and some healthy snacks, a good book ( don’t forget your glasses) and a ferry card that one of your children have probably swiped–so cross your fingers that there is enough money on it! Don’t forget to tape the schedule to the sun visor, although it will be memorized soon I am sure.
For power outages— candles, matches, firewood, butane for the little cook stove—–buckets of water for flushing, a good book ( don’t forget your glasses) and of course…some good wine and a secret stash of chocolate to accompany those stories from the good old days, so you can talk into the wee hours as one tends to do when you aren’t distracted by modern technology.
I think that’s it. I love the feeling of being prepared for all these very important aspects of island living.
Trying to get ahold of my worrying mind, I search around the emergency waiting room for something that is positive. I didn’t want to see men holding bloodied bandaged fingers or elderly ladies wincing in pain in their giant chairs with wheels. I didn’t want to hear the bored and whining child or watch the children’s television that gruesomely showed someone cutting out an eye of a pumpkin. I was waiting to see if my husband’s eye would be okay after a weed whacking incident, I did not want to be reminded of eyeballs being cut out. And so I looked up from my book…. I was the only one reading a book, which seemed odd as I heard the waiting time was 3 hours at least or maybe the whole day if you weren’t in excruciating pain. But I digress. I looked up through the large windows and saw a painting inspired image of a crow clasping the metal something-or-other and the moon with all its intrinsic patterns. My photo doesn’t do it justice.
And so, on what would be considered a bad day trip to Nanaimo to go to emergency…. on a long weekend, unsure if we would make the last ferry, I found a sliver of beauty.I began to relax and listened intently to people who became chummy and bonded over the long wait times. I learned that the elderly lady on the far right was pushed into the side of a slide by her great- grandson. It was worth the small injury on her wrist for sure and a great tale to boot. Seeing the moon reminded me of the song by the B52’s- There’s a Moon in the Sky, it became lodged in my head and I sang it quietly in my mind on the trip back.
Well, our bags are packed and we’re madly dashing around doing last minute chores before leaving the big city of Calgary.
Here are some of the things I will miss the most;
Nose Hill Park, the wildflowers that I walk by every day always amazes me. And how fun to walk by gaggles of children out on a field trip singing,”Down by the Bay, where the watermelons grow”, ad naseum, just like we used to do a million years ago.
I will miss the wild winds and the way they move the grasses on the hillsides… I always think of ghosts running up the hill whenever I see those stalks wavering in the wind, quite an amazing sight.
I will miss the bright blue colour of the cold river waters and watching surfers tackling the waves in the middle of the city.
I will miss walking through Kensington, enjoying Oolong tea with my family and running to an afternoon movie at a local theater just minutes away.
I will miss Shakespeare on the Bow and the beautiful setting of the Cochrane market.
But most of all— I will miss the people that I have met here. Really good people, kind and funny and full of life! How lucky to have met so many great and intelligent friends. Goodbye big city, you have changed me and very much for the better.
( I meant to send this post off before we left— we have now unpacked our bags and are settling in to our new home)
I have been going through a lot of boxes in anticipation of a big move. My intention was to cull unnecessary junk. I have managed to recycle quite a bit of old books and papers. But what I found is a treasure trove of written material.
It was a time before emails. I have poems written on crinkled paper Hallmark bags, I have an orange envelope with my progress reports from Seven Oaks School Division No.10–apparently in 1973, I was “sometimes dreamy’ with a good imagination.
I found postcards from friends on trips to London or Hawaii. Words of love from faces I can no longer recall. Letters I sent to my baba from summer camp. I recall reading a book with her late on a Saturday night– Letters From Camp. We would laugh so hard that I wet myself and my baba fell onto the middle of the linoleum in her sparse kitchen.
I found Love letters that are as thick as a Russian novel—day-to-day happenings, written neatly with small drawings in pen— a kind of handwritten Instagram, but much slower. How can I get rid of these precious, precious items?
I can’t. So into a box they go. I encourage everyone to pull out a pen and write a letter to someone. Write words of love or just any silly thing. I know your friend will be overjoyed to receive it. Your words will be a welcome surprise from junk mail and bills.
Is Karma a real thing? Or is it just something we tell ourselves when other people’s misdeeds affect us? Will those unkind actions from someone who we once trusted go unpunished? For instance what will happen to the ex-lover who turns incredibly cruel, or when an old friend is unkind. While I like to think they will get theirs, in the end, I know it is the false hope of an empath that a narcissist will one day wake up and realize that they are an a-hole and then feel sorry about it. That is not the way the world works. So how can empaths and just regular folk, protect themselves from the wrongdoings of others? I really have no answers. And while I enjoy reading Buddhist teachings on Karma, it really doesn’t give me the hard timelines that I am looking for. Like exactly when does said a-hole get theirs? Next Tuesday or say 2019 late fall? The idea that karma is lurking about ready to pounce doesn’t seem like a tangible enough system. The only coping strategy that I know of is to surround yourself with good people and hope the bad ones go far far away, to somewhere like Prince George or Toronto.
According to Wikipedia, Karma means action, work or deed; it also refers to the spiritual principle of cause and effect where intent and actions of an individual (cause) influence the future of that individual (effect). Good intent and good deed contribute to good karma and future happiness, while bad intent and bad deed contribute to bad karma and future suffering.
I can eat. I can eat a lot. I am not one of those people who easily lose my appetite. I am not a picky eater. I was brought up to stuff my face when I felt bad. My Russian baba encouraged me to enter eating contests with my two hundred pound uncle when I was ten. Then in the next breath, she would call me fat.
And so— my relationship with food is conflicting and confusing. I read a lot about health and clean eating. I am well versed in how to feed myself and my family in a healthy way. But. I can’t stop eating the bad stuff. I am helpless. For me my food addiction is almost as bad as an addict’s drug addiction.
I have tried many different diets over the years, when I was that same perogie-eating ten-year -oid, I tried grapefruit pills to lose weight. Although looking back at some of my childhood eating problems, I realize a parent probably should have told me not to eat forty perogies at one sitting–or were they all in the background cheering me on? I am unclear about this memory. But I do still love perogies, and sometimes I eat grapefruit for breakfast.
Eating is such a basic need but our society has made it into a recreational sport. We cook to not only feed ourselves but somehow it fills a spiritual void. Food some say can feed our soul. We feed our children and we feed the birds. We can’t stop feeding each other. it is a natural instinct that has run amok. For me, eating and snacking is like having a pleasure switch that I can’t turn off.
I read somewhere that the best way for women to lose weight is to be accountable. To join a group and have back up. No perogy will get eaten without a sister there to talk you down. “Step away from that dumpling !”she will say in an encouraging voice. “It’s okay, you’re safe here with friends. Here,have an almond instead”.
I think I may have to look into this.
Signing off, from the Fat Lady.( besides I’m out of almonds.)