The day stretched ahead, all new territory. Down the hill, through the thicket that hid Bishop’s Rest, onto the trail. Overhead, yet again, blue skies and sunshine. The birds chattered in the trees and our tires crunched noisily along the trail. Who knew what we would discover?Continue reading “Bend in the Road”
There were moments today when it felt like the essence of reality had various shades. Which part was real and which part just mirrored reality?Continue reading “A fine line”
Sitting on the deserted beach watching the waves caused a certain melancholy to wind it’s way through me. The landscape, basically unchanged, from 1894 till now. It matters not who was Queen then (Victoria) or who became King today (Charles) upon the death of his mother, Queen Elizabeth. The shores of the beach looked the same in 1830 when Richard Montgomery built Ingelside and will even if his descendant Paul sells it. The beach that Lucy Maud Montgomery played at as a child and returned to as an adult, living in exile in Ontario, remains the same.
The tide comes and goes. The horizon and tomorrow both seem distant. There is only the sands of time.
I felt totally immersed, as if I had slipped inside the family tree of another’s family. It was truly fascinating.
We went to “Silver Bush⁴”. It was home to the Campbell’s, double cousins to Lucy Maud Montgomery. The house features in a few books while the joy of cousin time (as an only child living with grandparents Maud was often lonely) came alive in The Story Book Girl and the Chronicles of Avonlea. I found out, from her great neice, how to say Frede. She laughed and said everyone called her Freddie and no one knows why Maud, in her journals, spelt it Frede except that she often misspelt things there. That’s not the kind of detail one would read in a book. The house, part private residence and part museum, has such a treasure trove of artifacts. Many of these actual physical items were transported into stories that she wrote. The bookcase children that Anne saw in her early life are the same ones Maud “saw” in real life in that very bookcase. There is the crazy quilt that she stitched. I knew she had done one but to see it lovingly displaced and to look at her workmanship. To find out why it survived in such amazing condition. She and Ewen Macdonald were married in the parlor in front of the fireplace in 1911. The house seems unchanged in so many ways and here it wasn’t all about Anne with an E but rather about the woman who penned her; right down to her writing desk.
Looking out the incredibly huge upstairs window at the Lake of Shining Waters, which on the map shows as Campbell’s Pond, but she refers to it many times in her journals. “They” say write what you know and that is certainly what she did. It is an enchanting area there is no doubt of that.
Then we crossed the road and went to Ingelside. The family home of Senator Donald Montgomery was a favourite spot of Maud’s as she cherished her relationship that she had with this grandfather. Interestingly enough I don’t feel like I have heard much of the Montgomery grandmother. If I had a week in this house to just read I am sure I could find the answer. There are so many books in an interesting book case, brought over in 1770 by James Townsend, Maud’s great grandfather.
But perhaps tomorrow I will just ask Paul Montgomery when he cooks our breakfast. He turned the family home into a bed and breakfast 6 years ago. They’ve done a fabulous job of these renovations and kept the character of the house front and center. Paul shared stories about this as well as family stories.
The landscape has changed of course. The big old barn outback is long gone. The trees have grown and the fields are bigger than the old photos show. The walk to the beach, under a glaring sun, remains unchanged.
The peace and quiet allow time to reflect whether it be about family, history or our place in this world. About the impacts of imagination, duty, service and how those values play out in life.
Given more time I will like to think I could be slightly more articulate about this. It flowed at the beach inside my head better than it is at this moment but reality is I am hitting publish. Perhaps someday I will come back and re write the ending just ad Maud re wrote her journals.
I wiped the chalkboard clean for I was under doctor’s orders to be a couch potato for the weekend. The to-do list would have to wait.Continue reading “To do or not to do…”
For years the guys at work teased me about having a Weekend at Bernie’s. About 5 years ago I finally watched the movie. Dead guys weigh a lot more than he did is all I’m going to say on that subject. As to a real week
end at Bernie’s…spoiler alert. No one died. No one was even spoilt!
Happens every single summer. I love summer. I love being outside, whether I am sitting enjoying the sunset, weeding, painting (and yes after all these years I might
still again be up a ladder) or going for a walk.
It’s a “real thing”, honest. The prescription is simple, “Post photos of fences on Fridays.” That’s the only rule of the Fenced Friday group thst started on Flickr and moved to Instagram. The creator of the group said he didn’t like the “stringent and exclusive” rules of other groups, so he made it dead simple.
So here are some of my fresh off the post captures from this spring.Continue reading “On a Post”
My earliest memory, the winter I was 3, involves a cold winters night. I was bundled up and went to the barn to “help” dad milk cows. In reality I was probably driving my mother crazy and so she sent me outside which was standard practise. Single ligjt bulb from the middle of the barn. My dad hunched against a cow and the sound of the milk hitting the pail. The steam rising from fresh cow poop. And a cow calving. My response to dad was “I wondered how dat was going to get out of dere”.
Fast forward a few decades and many many farm visits with our children. They were lucky enough to see a few new calves being born. Three more decades later and we are repeating the process again.
The opening paragraphs and accompanying photo might seem like a weird sequel into a what’s on your plate blog challenge and a thoughtful Thursday post but hang in there and keep reading.
Because I want to talk about the correlation between eating and food. As a farm kid you know that most animals become supper in the fall. We spent time ensuring that our children knew where the food came from and now the grandchildren. Besides the animals each generation has/have been vegetable gardeners and so every child grows up knowing that carrots taste the best straight from the garden.
But back to the what’s on the plate, which this time is just rhetorical rather than physical. Which is how it meets thoughtful Thursday. I just want to encourage readers to think about eating local. I totally recognize that this can, up front, cost more than grocery shopping at Walmart. But, and it’s a huge but, the cost to the climate is smaller. Local fruit, veggies and meat in season taste better, support local agriculture and have a smaller environmental impact. Challenge yourself to look at your food footprint.
A really great book on this subject is by a local Saskatoon food writer. It’s called Prairie Feast: A Writer’s Journey Home for Dinner by Amy Jo Ehman. For an entire year they ate local like her grandparents would have. Kind of like how I decided to make “Cacciatore” because only 2 generations ago food was scarce, the dirty thirties were having a huge impact and most food did not come from a store.
A totally “outside the box” #whatsonyourplateblogchallenge. I often climb on a soap box and I’ve done it once again. I definitely have strong opinions about eating local and as anyone who has read this blog for a while or who knows me in person knows that I actually walk this talk.
What’s your favourite local food? Hands down for me it’s saskatoons. Fingers crossed that there is no frost and no crazy wind to blow off the blossoms like last year.