Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 36

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covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, family, family history, first day of school, food, humour, memories, nature

Dear Diary – I did my back to school shopping…

Dear Diary – While it was super awesome and super entertaining watching Eldest Son fell a tree, there was one problem: how to deal with a felled tree.

On Saturday, Dad loaded up the truck with the first pile of brush for a run to the woods. The “woods” is a small patch of scrubby woodlands near what was the family farm. As we bumped along in silence, passing familiar farms and villages. There were more houses than I remembered, but for the most part, all remained the same.

We passed the house where my grandmother grew up with an older couple who “adopted” her. She went to live with them following the difficult birth of another sister and her family’s move to the city. She found her own household too chaotic, and she was happier growing up in the quiet household. She quit high school and worked in a store so she could care for this couple in their golden years, before she married grandpa and moved into her in-law’s home…where she cared for them in their golden years too.

We also passed the large, old cemetery my Dad would drive by slowly because I would hold my breath going past it.

I don’t know why I wanted to go with my Dad. Sure, it was to keep him company, but there’s also something special about this patch of land, like something calling me back to it. It’s a connection to the past and I feel a kinship with the families who came before me.

My great-great-great grandfather, Patrick, arrived in Canada from Ireland in 1837 with his wife and 8 children. They cleared and settled their crown plot by 1840. In 1843, his lawyer began petitioning the government for the title that was promised. The land passed from Patrick to Edward, who died in 1917. When he died, his wife walked across several fields to these same woods at the south end of the farm. She dug up and planted a small tree on his grave. I can remember looking for this evergreen tree in the cemetery (holding my breath), which could be seen from the road on the way to the farm. It came down in 2005. The farm then passed from Edward to John, and from John to my grandfather, Roy. The farm was sold in the early 1980’s, but we still own the woods.

These woods were used in WWII to train the Royal Canadian Electrical & Mechancal Engineering units in camoflauge and equipment recovery and repair. The pigs at the farm soon learned that big trucks might mean delicious scraps, and they would run to the fence every time they heard a truck. Once, my grandmother was taken on a tour of the camp and an young officer went ahead to remind the lads to watch there language and behaviour because there was “a lady in the camp”.

The roadways used by the trainees are nearly indiscernable around the trees, but Dad had no difficulty wending his way through the gap in the wooden rail fence and into a clearing not far from the road. We spotted this puffball mushroom on the way.

Dad measured it on his next trip and said it was about 14″ across.

The only sounds were crickets and the occasional lazy bumblebee. I saw dragons flies and ants, but no other creatures. I know that there are deer and bears, and smaller critters around. We were surrounded by cedar and pine, prickly ash, sumac, juniper, and plenty of moss-covered rocks.

Can you find the road?

On the way home, we took a different route, one that led down dusty roads and over hills. When I was a kid, my Dad knew just how to hit those hills so that my stomach would roll and I’d laugh out loud. It was better than any scary roller coaster!

We stopped in the last village at a bakery in an old limestone building. The windows are low with deep sills to display the store’s wares, and the door is bright yellow…with an old, sticky lock.

We bought 3 kinds of bars to share: maple walnut, peanut butter-chocolate, and nanaimo! We earned them (or rather, Dad did)! A yummy way to end a busy day!

Life is uncertain….eat dessert first!

Unknown

Dear Diary – It felt like Fall had arrived by the flick of a switch. On Saturday afternoon, Mom and I enjoyed a lovely, warm swim in the pool. On Sunday morning, I was reaching for a sweater and regretting not packing more than sundresses.

Monday was our last day together, a bonus day since school was starting later than expected and I remained at my folks with Youngest Son longer. Determined that Youngest Son was NOT going to spend it sleeping all day, as has been his routine for the month of August, I insisted he get up and go out with us for lunch. He was cranky, but he came.

Being a holiday Monday and a small town, our dining options were limited. It’s been years since I dined in MacDonald’s. Growing up, it was the only fast food restaurant in town, and one we usually frequented on Sundays after church. If Dad was working, we’d take it to the Fire Hall. We eat in front of an old black and white t.v. and play tag on the trucks.

After lunch we played board games until Mom needed a nap. I think Youngest Son did too.

We arrived home on Tuesday and I have been unpacking bags and boxes ever since. It’s amazing how much stuff accumulates over the summer, and how well I can pack it in my tiny car!

I’m always sad to see the end of summer. I like the sense of freedom from obligations and deadlines that it brings. I know if I didn’t have routines that I would literally waste precious time, but it’s delicious simply to know that I had the space to do so. Every season has its place and like it or not, the next one is beginning. It’s time for activities to start, jean buttons to strain, and pumpkin-spiced crap to appear in every coffee shop across the land!

The morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Dear Diary – I didn’t sleep well last night: ‘Twas the Night Before…

This morning, though the sun shone brightly outside, inside the mood was somber. I did my best to stay out of Youngest Son’s way as he finished making his lunch and gathered his belongings. It’s the first day of Grade 12, a year whose outcome will determine the next step in his life journey. And having attended virtual school for part of Grade 9 and all of Grades 10 & 11, thanks to covid, it feels like the beginning of Grade 9. Again.

Also, he had to get dressed!!

He wore his new jeans today, the ones I bought and exchanged for a smaller size. Though a 27″ waist, he still needs a belt. (Once again I’m reminded mine used to be 24″ and I start singing The Way We Were).

I dropped him off at the corner. I figured the day was tough enough without the long early morning walk. That walk will have to become part of his routine in preparation for Uni next year. Mama’s not living in his dorm (actually only in spirit).

Thus begins a new chapter in his life, and in mine. I was just beginning to settle into a routine at home, having quit my job, when covid shutdowns hit. Now, after 2 years I suddenly find myself in the same place I started the pandemic: home, alone, and wondering just what it is I’m supposed to be doing with my life.

So I’m doing just what I did then…starting a routine. I had breakfast. I had my quiet time with the Lord. And now I’ve said hello to you, dear diary. Time for me to begin my next chapter. Lord, have mercy!

Beginning
Just let that word wash over you
It’s alright now
Love’s healing hands have pulled you through
So get back up, take step one
Leave the darkness, feel the sun
Cause your story’s far from over
And your journey’s just begun

Danny Gokey, Tell Your Heart to Breathe Again

Fairy Tea

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#whatsinmycup, food, garden, nature, photography, poetry, tea, tea addict, tea lover, tea party, tea photography, tea quotes

‘T was very, very long ago, in days no longer snug
When giant stood about so high and pixies all were young
The Queen of Fairies said one day, ‘I’m tired of honey-dew,
So hasten now, and mix for me a cup of something new’.

‘It must lift the drooping spirit, it must heal the wounded heart;
It must bring the smile of happiness, and bid the tear depart;
It must make the young grow younger, and the old no longer old;
It must make the poor contented, and the rich forget their gold’.
…

…
When it boiled, they cooled and poured it, so the ancient story goes;
And to the Queen they brought it in the chalice of a rose.
She sipped, delighted; then she cried: ‘I issue this decree;
The cup you have so deftly brewed, I christen “Fairy Tea”!’.

So when you see the fairy folk “at home” in Dingle Dell,
All sipping something dainty from their cups of heather-bell,
You will notice they are happy, as good as fairies ought to be,
And that’s because they always use their famous Fairy Tea.

Fairy Tea by D.K.S., Old Wives Tales, St. Nicholas: an illustrated Magazine for Young Folks, Volume 40, 1914

Happy Labour Day!

Wilderness Wednesday: Hummingbird

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birds, nature, nature photography, photography, Wilderness Wednesday

Life’s not about waiting for the storm to pass…It’s about learning to dance in the rain.

Vivian Greene

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 32

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apple blossoms, dear diary, family, food, humour, music, nature, summer, trees, worship

Dear Diary – I knew all those games of Operation would pay off one day!

On Friday morning, after I dropped my car off to deal with the whistle-wonk sounds my car’s been making for weeks, I got ambitious. I dusted and swept the main floor, backed up and updated my laptop, caught up with an old friend on the phone, and emptied the shredder for the next round.

But I emptied the bin into the green bin (compost) on the counter, and wouldn’t you know, one tiny slip of paper drifted into an open vent on the base of my new air fryer.

Thus ensued a sick and sweaty 20 minute game of Operation, with not one, but 3 tweezers. I didn’t leave the air fryer plugged in though, you know, to make it more authentic. 😉

Dear Diary – The other day, Mr. Cardinal was pipping furiously. I think it was Morse code.

..-. . . -.. / — .

Feed Me

Dear Diary – I led worship a couple Sundays ago and vainly attempted to look slender in my new dress. Our pastors are currently speaking a series on the Armour of God. I have also shared from the same passage in Ephesians at a ladies’ event, but I used my own humourous twist in my examples of armour. Only this morning, my “armour” (aka corset) was not holding up!

It wasn’t the only thing.

Something had happened to the headset mic purchased to capture my itty-bitty intoning, so I had to use a boom stand. I don’t like them because there’s no happy middle ground. Either the A/V guys are unhappy because they can’t hear me…or I’m unhappy because there’s a mic stand blocking my view of either the sheet music or the piano keys.

Accomplished pianists play from memory. I am not an accomplished pianist.

Hubby was doing sound and together we found that comfortable middle ground…rather unharmoniously.

Something happened between rehearsal and service time. My mic was attached to a sinking stand, and was nearly resting on my clinging cleavage. Not only would it make it incredibly difficult for Hubby to pick up my crooning, but it also blocked both the keyboard and the bottom half of my sheetmusic, and in my mind, accentuated the straining lingerie. I knew it was straining because I could feel the bent boning digging into my ribcage.

With a sweet smile, I started talking and reached up to return the arm of the stand back where it belonged. In addition to bent boning, I could feel sweat welling up in my underarms. But while I managed to secure the mic higher, it refused to remain in position and the bolt to tighten it was immoveable. So was my determination. The service had started. I was going to keep smiling (and sweating) and we were going to sing.

I played and sang again this past Sunday. Someone took pity on me…and the saggy stand has become someone else’s problem.

Dear Diary – It has been a summer of firsts. Well, a couple firsts. Earlier in July, I sang at my first wedding. This past weekend, I played at my first funeral. I even broke out my little black dress. I can still zip it up but the lines hug some of my curves differently. It went well, from my perspective. I greatly appreciated the tall flower displays that partially hid me, as I felt very self-conscious standing on the platform without teammates. And I am very thankful I didn’t fall up or down the stairs.

I even wore heels. Just not to the funeral…or out of the bedroom.

I miss my heels.

Give a girl the right shoes and she can conquer the world.

Marilyn Monroe

Dear Diary – I have definitely raised a city kid. This week we braved the heat to pick up rotting apples from our back yard. It’s the downside to owning an apple tree, but I love the blossoms in the Spring. And every tree deserves to live!

In past years, Youngest Son has used a stick to stab them. Unfortunately, these apples have sat longer than they should have, so while they may look solid, picking them up with anything but a feather touch spells disaster. The stick was useless. Rather than argue, I told him to pick up the fresh, red ones and I would deal with the goopy ones.

There was something satisfying about the “splat” they made as I tossed into recycle bins and old garbage cans. For every one he picked up, I picked up more than a dozen. He objected to the smell; it reminded me of apple cider. He slipped and slid once; I laughed. I got apple on my leggings. He thought that was gross.

He would not survive on a farm. Not even a hobby farm!

But he could muscle the barely filled bins and cans to the curb for me, and we nearly completed clearing the yard of the apples that were not soup.

I slept in a bit the following morning. The sun was shining when I got up. I pulled on my robe and opened the curtains. I laughed.

I laughed hard.

The yard truck crew had left me a surprise… again!

Only at our house.

Not only was it perfectly balanced…it was perfectly balanced over my head.

I left it, hoping it would last until I could drag Youngest Son from his slumber to take a photo. But, alas! Some “mean kid” punched it on his way by and it collapsed into the street. I had to retrieve them, close-mouthed, to avoid ingesting the cloud of fruit flies.

We don’t stop playing because we grow old.
We grow old because we stop playing.

G.B. Shaw

Wilderness Wednesday: Creative Garden

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flowers, garden, nature, photography, Wilderness Wednesday

The single greatest lesson the garden teaches is that our relationship to the planet need not be zero-sum, and that as long as the sun still shines and people still can plan and plant, think and do, we can, if we bother to try, find ways to provide for ourselves without diminishing the world.

Michael Pollan, The Omnivore’s Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals

Happy Wednesday!

What’s In My Cup: Vanilla Bean Black

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#whatsinmycup, food, garden, humour, nature, tea, tea addict, tea photography, tea time, teacup, what's in my cup

It’s one of my favourite smells in the world: vanilla.

It is one of the most widely used (and most easily recognizable) spice in the world, but it is only grown in 5 countries: Mexico, Madagascar, Tahiti, Indonesia and Uganda. Flowers on the vines of vanilla orchids, which originated in Mexico, are pollinated by hummingbirds or melipona bees. These flowers become pods, which when harvested and cured, become “vanilla beans”. It takes 3 years for the vine to grow, and flowers are only open for 1 day and must be pollinated within this time frame. Flowers can be hand-pollinated. Pods take up to 9 months to mature. They are about 10 cm long, and can contain thousands of black vanilla seeds.

The curing process may vary from region to region, but typically there are 3 steps:

1. Blanching in hot water to stop the maturing process and activate fragrant compounds.

2. Sweating, a months long process of wrapping and storing them in a warm, dark place and drying them in the sun.

3. Conditioning them by packaging them in wax paper and dark boxes for up to 4 weeks.

Just like tea leaves, the different climates, soils, curing methods and species of vanilla affects its flavor profile and characteristics.

Vanilla first made a recorded appearance in cookbooks in the early 1800’s. And thank goodness it did. It’s richly aromatic spice adds so much to desserts…and this morning in my cup in David’s Tea Vanilla Bean Black!

This tea combines the warmth and comfort of vanilla with the robustness of black tea. Other ingredients include coconut rasps, apple, bean peel, white hibiscus blossoms, and stevia extract. It reminds me a lot of Tetley’s Red Vanilla Rooibos, which is caffeine-free and also a very satifying vanilla treat! But unlike Rooibos, it is a rich, dark colour.

Like spending time in a garden, vanilla tea can help reduce stress and anxiety. In fact, Stanford researchers have said the chemical compounds in vanilla tea boost the brain’s production of a relaxant. Just inhaling the scent can relieve stress and anxiety in 90% of people…in less than 3 minutes.

It’s Monday! I’m inhaling…and tasting…and savouring my vanilla tea this morning…with caffeine…in the garden.

What’s in your cup today?

If you look the right way, you can see the whole world is a garden.

Frances Hodgson Burnett

Thanks to The Brilliant Kitchen for info. on vanilla!

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week 30

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dear diary, family, nature, photography

Dear Diary – My grandmother used to like the expression “when life hands you scraps, make quilts”. She was an avid quilter and I proudly display a few of her carefully handcrafted quilts in my home.

While I have been very fortunate to work on quilts with both of my grandmothers, my Mom and my aunt, I am not a quilter. However, I’m also not a “waster”. Mom helped me this week begin to cut strips of fabric from the scraps of fabric used in my business for another project. Hopefully, dear diary, I can share the finished product with you soon. It’s a time-consuming process but a worthy one to keep it out of the landfill. If we each do our part, we can begin to make a better world.

Do what you love, love what you do, leave the world a better place and don’t pick your nose.

Jef Mallett

Dear Diary – It was another wild weather weekend at “the cottage” (aka my parents’ place), which seems to be an apt description for most of North America, if not on an international scale!

Saturday morning I woke with a start! The sun was already beating down behind my blinds and the famers were probably enjoying their first (or maybe second) coffee break. But it wasn’t the sunshine or the late hour that disturbed me; it was the lack of noise. My faithful electric fan was no longer buzzing beside me. I clicked the lamp next to my bed and it confirmed my fear: the power was out!

I was the first out of bed and I tried, in vain, to see if I could find out what had happened. Or more importantly, how long this was happening. My phone battery was already drained and my data plan, not unlimited. So I texted Hubby to see if he could find the answer and let me know.

He didn’t return my texts.

I texted Oldest Son as well.

He also didn’t return my texts.

I waited impatiently for someone to share my misery, as my nightgown dampened and my flesh screamed for caffeine. (Just re-living it makes me want to put the kettle on…)

Eventually my parents staggered from their chamber, less concerned with how we would manage. We had access to a pool to keep cool – but what about the seniors in town?

After consuming the sourdough cinnamon and raisin muffins my Dad had baked a few days before, he ventured into town to the nearest Tim Horton’s. My hero!

I settled into the soft couch with book to await his triumphant return. But his highly anticipated return was not triumphant. Nothing in town was open. All the street lights were out. And the park where there’s free wi-fi was one long string of cars.

More than an hour had passed, with my phone battery coughing it’s last, I called Hubby. He was playing Minecraft! 🙂 But he was able to confirm a large outage in our area and he reported our address. The estimated time for repair was more than 5 hours away…and they were still investigating. We were in this for the long haul.

I immediately popped 2 tea bags in a pitcher of room temperature water and set it aside to steep. I failed to notice Dad popping out the patio door. Soon after, he returned triumphant with a kettle of boiling water. Oh yes!! The BBQ.

Mom, meanwhile, was already feeling unwell and had fallen asleep in a chair. I had to restrain myself after the first glorious mug of golden elixir that lifted my flagging spirits and my caffeine-deprived body, so I wouldn’t drink her mug too.

Youngest Son slept on blissfully.

No tea and no pee! The absence of hydro meant not only no tea and no air-conditioning, it also meant no pump for the well, which meant no toilet. If anyone had to do their “duty”, they had to do it downstairs and use a bucket of pool water to flush!

By lunchtime, we were soggy. I tried to nap in my room but it was too hot. It didn’t help that there were still flannel sheets on my bed. Concerned with the contents of fridge and freezer, my Dad started up his generator. It staggered to life, belching fumes and grumbling like the old steam-powered machines at the local Fair. One that was on its last legs! But it’s grumbling helped the fridge and freezer do its job (and boosted my phone battery too), and allowed us to flush upstairs, away from the creatures with many legs. At least for an hour.

By mid-afternoon, I exchanged my third outfit of the day (each one showing more skin than the last) for my bathing suit, and Mom and I dunked in the warm pool to cool off. But without hydro to circulate the water, it was filled with very noticable hot spots and cold spots. It reminded me of swimming in a shallow lake, the kind where lots of kids are hanging out about waist deep…and when you hit a hot spot, you knew someone had just peed.

Dad chose this auspicious moment to run the generator to top up the cooling appliances. I felt like I was swimming next to a burping, aged tractor, but I was so thankful my internal core was no longer threatening to melt down.

Also, without the distractions of electronics, and being forced outdoors to try to escape the heat, we were reminded of all the beauty around us in nature. When the generator wasn’t running, we could smell the lilies nearby. Most wondrous of all, we were entertained by a trio of Monarch butterflies dancing in the field nearby and chasing each other in a game of tag. One even hid among the lilies, only to “attack” the other two and send them into a flight of fancy. Like tethered flowers, these tiny creatures flitted and fluttered and circled each other, an ethereal spectacle that we would have missed hunched over tablets inside.

By the time I was dressed again and armed with my camera, only one remained. It played with me instead, making me chase it from flowerbed to flowerbed, alighting only long enough for me to line up the shot. My finger pressed the button, but it was already gone. Except once…

Power was restored just before dinner…which meant we had to cook! 😦

We woke Youngest Son in time to eat.

Hubby made sure we didn’t stay in the dark. He texted to report there had been an explosion and fire at the local power station. Over 30,000 customers were impacted by the outage, yet this news story never made it on the local news!

On Sunday night we went to bed under a severe thunderstorm watch. The winds were high and thunder rumbled in the distance.

In the morning, we found out a tornado had touched down just 30 minutes away. That’s the second tornado this summer to touch down…also 30 minutes away from me. Tornados are not a common thing in our area, and as a kid, I took great comfort in knowing I never had to worry. But things are changing, and if things run in threes, I’m not liking the odds…

A long weekend is fabulous, but a 2 week holday is so much more satisfying. Instead of wondering where it went, I’m looking back, amazed at how slowly it passed. Tomorrow I am returning home, still lacking vigour and with no grand schemes in place, but still… feeling blessed.

Melting at the Drive-In – Woo hoo!!

I sustain myself with the love of my family.

Maya Angelou

Wilderness Wednesday: Woody

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birds, nature, nature photography, photography, Wilderness Wednesday

Many critics are like woodpeckers, who, instead of enjoying the fruit and shadow of a tree, hop incessantly around the trunk, pecking holes in the bark to discover some little worm or other.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Sorry, Hoover…

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#whatsinmycup, chipmunks, food, humour, nature, photography, tea, tea addict, tea cups, tea lover, tea photography, tea time, what's in my cup, whatsinmycup

Sorry Hoover…unlike last time, the tea cup is empty!

Keep calm and go nuts!

Wilderness Wednesday: Gold Finches

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birds, garden, nature, nature photography, Wilderness Wednesday

Sometimes goldfinches one by one will drop
From low hung branches; little space they stop;
But sip, and twitter, and their feathers sleek;
Then off at once, as in a wanton freak:
Or perhaps, to show their black and golden wings,
Pausing upon their yellow flutterings.

John Keats

Happy Wednesday!