Robins & Magpie

Michael Crummy was being interviewed on CBC Radio by Shelagh Rogers and I was sitting in the driver's seat, listening, having just arrived home from taking Emil into town.

During the 15 minutes till the end of the show, I watched a robin perched on top of the chimney on the roof of the tractor shed about 50 feet from the car. Or maybe it was watching me. It was standing lookout, apparently, over the yard.

When a fat smartypants magpie landed near the truck parked near Little Green (the car), it hopped around between the two vehicles, quite unconcerned, until suddenly from the air two missiles dived at it. The three swooped like lightning across the windshield of the car. I nearly jumped out of my seat.

The robins must have a nest very near, and they are having no truck with no magpies.

Taken through the car window

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Maggie Turner on "Tractor & Me": 

My oh my, how tractors have changed since I was a girl! Of course, the farm where I grew up did not require a large tractor, it was only 25 acres. There were no cabs, and I remember riding on beside my Dad, standing up; it couldn't have been all that safe, but back then people didn't think much about those kinds of things. 

Hell, Maggie, they still don't think enough about those kinds of things. You still see children on tractors and even driving other machinery, no matter how many public warnings there have been against it. I guess everyone thinks accidents only happen to other people. In short, they don't think.

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Birdie on "Tractor & Me": 

I have lived in Nanaimo my whole life. In fact, my family had lived here for 162 years. I also work in Home Support and see and know a LOT of people. No doubt there is a connection somewhere. :-) 

No doubt! 

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Tractor & Me

Heaven help me: while out walking, I recognized this tractor coming down the road toward me when it was a mile away. No one is more surprised than me.

What's the big deal, you say? It's that I don't know (or thought I didn't) one tractor from another, and it could have been any of the neighbours'.

Scott was on his way from land further north to cultivate in the quarter-section across the road from our place.

When I got home from my walk, I drove out to the field with a beer and promised to come back and pick him up at dark so he wouldn't have to walk to our yard. It was a cold evening, he'd be tired, and would need the tractor in the field the next day.

Like I said, it was cold. I waited inside the car.

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Lorna on "Goodbye Jenna": 

How caring you all were. 

I hope so. I hope we did the right thing. You always kind of wonder. 

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Maggie Turner on "Goodbye Jenna": 

Kate, just got to my visiting, so sorry to hear of Jenna's passing, it was hard on all of you. 

Thank you. She was 13 or 14 years old so we knew she wouldn't have a lot of time left. Would've liked to see her life end differently, that's all. But lives don't usually end perfectly, do they?

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Birdie on "To Dennis from Emil": 

Wandering through your posts and this one grabbed my attention. I live in Nanaimo. :-) 

Oh, so that's where you are! I read some entries on your blog but didn't see where you're located. I have a beloved friend who lives in Nanaimo, too. I've added your blog to my list so will be visiting. Maybe we'll find out we have mutual acquaintances! 

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Lorna on "Me & Emil": 

We have books here that were mine as a kid, and some that belong to my kids and theirs. It makes me happy and I realize how lucky I am to have been able to keep them over the year. Actually that's probably not true because if I lose a book or make a mistake about my wish to keep it, I buy it again....I must have bought 12 copies of The Golden Compass. 

You've made me think about the grandchildren Scott and I are looking forward to. I will have to go out and get some books to read to the little ones. They'll already have a baba and a grandma from other sides of the family; maybe I'll be BookGran!

Annette Answers My 5 Things Questionaire

Annette is the only person I've actually met face-to-face after becoming acquainted online. We were both members of a writers' online discussion group and when I took my boys and moved to Kelowna in 2004 to be with Mom through her dying months, Annette and her sweetie were living in Armstrong, just down the curving highway. I drove over for a visit. They gave me a nice lunch and the next time they were in Kelowna we met up for coffee and Annette and I have kept in touch ever since.

She's only recently started up her blog and that's why hers is the last of my "favourite 5" to be posted here; I started with the one I've been reading the longest and worked my way through to the one I've been reading for the shortest time.

Here is a woman with such a great appreciation for life. Even with the struggles and heartbreaks, and Annette (P'tit Lou) has had more than her share, she is thrilled by sunsets, birds, walks near the river, time spent with friends, and road trips to see her daughters and grandchildren. She notices and values the little daily beauties and understands that they are, in reality, the big beauties we are blessed with. She writes about the moments ordinary lives are made of, even though her own life is not ordinary and, no matter what is going on over there in northern Alberta, I'm rooting for her happiness as I read her blog. She has been a friend to me for more than 10 years, always willing to lend a kind, non-judgmental ear and her full support and understanding. Friends like Annette are few and far between and they are worth more than gold and diamonds.

Below is her answer to my questions, and here's the link to her blog so you can bookmark it for future visits: LOU TO YOU.

Five Things To Tell You About

I’m itching to get my fingers in the dirt and I keep thinking today is the day but the day passes and all I’ve done (among 100 other things) is to repot a few houseplants that were in bad need of tender loving care. I’m not big on flowering plants but I absolutely love my sunflowers when they pop out of the ground and stand tall with heads held high. It makes my heart smile when I get up in the morning, look out my bedroom window and I’m greeted by a whole bunch of bright yellow smiley faces. What better way to step forward into the day.

Playing in the dirt is a grounding and nourishing time for me but even more grounding and nourishing is having a good piece of writing or reading to sink my teeth into. Some real life stuff that allows me to enter another person’s world and connect with them on a more intimate level than the everyday casual meeting on the street with the standard, “Hello, how are you?” “I’m fine, thank you. And you?” Those are the kinds of interactions where people won’t let you see what they’re really living or how badly they are hurting inside because it means exposing their soft, vulnerable underbelly and it’s either not cool to do that, or it’s as menacing as entering a totally forbidden land. That superficial stuff bores me.

So I read and I write and I write and I read and it’s never as much as I’d like but for now it’s what I can do.  It feeds me and keeps my thirsty insatiable self under control. There are two blogs I go to in order to quench my thirst. One I’ve been told I’m not allowed to mention but I’ll give you a hint anyway. If you’re reading this post you’re likely at one of those blogs right now. This one keeps me grounded in everyday life and the living of it. It is flawless writing often filled with an appreciation of the simple things that render life precious. The other blog focuses on memoir writing and often refers to the important role the personal and intimate details of life play in writing. Give it a whirl and see what you think. “The Heart and Craft of Life Writing :”   http://heartandcraft.blogspot.ca

Other places I travel to on the internet.
1. Word Think: http://www.wordthink.com
2. Etsy: https://www.etsy.com/
3. Moon Phases Calendar: http://www.moonconnection.com/moon_phases_calendar.phtml
4.The Shift Network: http://support.theshiftnetwork.com/home
5. OM Times: http://astrology.omtimes.com/daily-horoscope/

On another note – about potluck suppers and holidays, which are two things I’m all for. With either one of these, it means less cooking and more dishes to choose from. Do I do it often. No. At least not according to my rating. As far as holidays and travelling goes, others would say I’m always on the highway, which, when compared to some, I suppose can be seen that way. I could easily be a gypsy. I like having a home to land at and a place to hang my hat for a while but I could easily travel a whole lot more than I do now. When I travel I’m like a kid in a candy shop, especially when it’s new, yet unexplored territory. Love it, love it!

As for potlucks, I’m ok with it but it’s something I usually have a hard time with because I’m such a fussy, picky eater and I’m not a great explorer or adventurer when it comes to food. No sauces, no tomatoes, no condiments, no salad dressings, no mashed potatoes, and on and on it goes. It’s much safer when I can order what I want. But hey, sometimes I hit it lucky and there’s lots of dishes to my liking to dive into.

And when it comes to what makes a great holiday it’s not being in a hurry to get back where I started from. It’s to have the time to stop and relax, read, write, walk, explore, discover. When I have the opportunity to spend time in nature, to enjoy the sunshine, the water, the scenery, the people and to share stories. There’s not much more I could ask for. I’ve taken this kind of holiday before and I hope to do it a lot more in the future. My idea of a perfect holiday which I’ve added to my bucket list is to travel across Canada in a little motorhome. I want to go from coast to coast and take about six months to do so.

That’s about it for today folks. There you have it, my five things to share with you. I’m off to help a friend move some furniture, do some stuff around the yard, cook myself some dinner, go for a walk, work on another piece of writing, and later this evening go help an elderly friend take her shower.

Me & Emil

"Mom. Are you going to stay in your pyjamas all day?"

This is a question Emil quite often asks me when he is here on a weekend, as I'm in no hurry to get dressed. Yesterday, for instance, I slept till nearly 11 after being up till one the night before, and then I was busy making fagioli soup and doing dishes and talking to my ex, Emil's dad, on the phone. Who had time to get dressed before three o'clock? I'd even been outside in the perennial bed, pulling weeds and quackgrass, in my fluffy green housecoat. Living on the farm — what freedom!

Emil phones me most Thursday nights, if he and his gang are not off at a dance somewhere or busy with some other activity that runs late.

His opening statement is always, "I had a good day at work today."

His typical questions:

"Do you have your pyjamas on right now?"
"Are you wearing your glasses?"
"Is Scott home?"
And usually, "What did you have for supper?"

Emil reading to me.

Recently I decided he needed more variety in reading material so I have been bringing home books from the library for him. He has his own collection of old favourites that he looks at, whether he's at the group home or here, and when I suggested getting library books he didn't seem interested. He likes the ones he has and prefers to avoid change of any sort. However, I still think new and different books would be a good thing for him. His reading skills are at the level of a student in Grade 1, though I've been surprised at how well he actually does read. And I'm hoping that in time his skill level will rise, although if they couldn't achieve that in all the years he went to school and had special-needs teachers and one-on-one time with aides, maybe it's just not going to happen.

The point is, books broaden your perspective and enrich your life, and I want both for him.

He's enjoying the books. That's no surprise; he's loved books since he was a wee babe in my arms who could only point at the bookshelves whenever I carried him into the livingroom, and if I didn't sit down and read one to him, he'd cry.

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Lorna has left a new comment on your post "They Know Where I Live": 

when we were in the grocery store, the woman ahead of us had bought a huge amount of food, but left her points card at home, so she offered the points to us. It was a pleasant surprise and a generous offer.I wish I'd had something to offer her in return, but we just smiled at each other for the looooooooong time it took to get her groceries packed. 

People are goodhearted and will help when they see a way to do so. 

I find it difficult to make the connection between what I hear about in the news — terrorism, murder, rape, theft, and on it goes — and what I see in my own life. 

Dad and I were talking about this the other night on the phone. I think the topic of the moment was domestic violence by men against women and children. I said the extent of it even in Canada is so shocking; you and I, were we raised in a bubble or what? "Maybe we're bubbleheads," he said.

Because to us, it's so unthinkable it's like it can't be real. Yet we can't argue with the statistics; they can't be that skewed.

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Jenna Doodle

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Birdie has left a new comment on your post "Goodbye Jenna": 

I was just clicking around in blogland and came across your post. Even though it is my first time here I couldn't jest leave without saying something. 

Losing a pet is so hard. In our brains it should be so easy because it is just a dog/cat. But our hearts know so much better. Pets offer us so much love and acceptance. They just love us because of who we are and not who we should be. That is the reason it hurts to much. You are losing a best friend. 

Sending love to you and your family. 

I hope that clickable link there leads to your blog, Birdie, so I can check it out.
Thank you for the kind words. 

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Annette Erickson has left a new comment on your post "Goodbye Jenna": 

I'm so sorry to hear this Kate. Made me tear up as I read your post. It's so hard to lose a pet that's been at your side for so many years and yes, of course, we deeply feel the void when their presence is no longer there. I know I'll be facing the loss of my cat soon and I dread the thought. Goodbye Jenna. 

And wouldn't it be somewhat easier if they -- if we and all our loved ones -- just died in our sleep? But maybe not. I know it helps to have a chance to say goodbye.

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Goodbye Jenna

We lost our Jenna Doodle last weekend.

She’d gone under Scott’s half-ton to lay down while he was loading fenceposts into the back. She never goes under vehicles so he didn't expect her to be there and didn’t see her. 

The first I heard of it was when he came into the porch and yelled, “Find a vet! I ran over Jenna!”

I called the vet in Yorkton, where Scott has taken Ducky for his scratching (which is still an unsolved problem). It would take over an hour to get there. Scott phoned a vet in Preeceville, an hour from here, and described her injuries; it sounded like the dog would have to be euthanized, the vet said.
At her age — she was 13 or 14 — there was no point in putting her through more hell. Even surgery, were it an option, would be too hard on her.

By the time I threw on some clothes and headed out to see the situation for myself, Scott was sitting beside her on the grass in the outer farmyard and she had tried to move, he said, toward his hand, and so what I heard and saw as I approached was her crying and writhing in pain for 10 or 15 seconds that seemed like forever. There was no way she would not suffer terribly over rough roads on a trip to the vet, even if it was only a half-hour drive; and then just to be euthanized. 

“We have to shoot her,” I said to Scott. “We can't let her suffer."

“I can’t do it,” he said.

“Do you know someone who can?” I said, wondering if I had the guts to do it myself. I like to think I would if no one else could. But last time I fired a rifle was at age 17. What if, now, I wasn't a good shot and one bullet didn't do it? What if I caused her fear and more suffering? It needed to be one shot; it needed to be instant death. 

Scott's brother Bruce said he’d come over. 

 I went out and sat with Jenna for a few minutes, caressed her face, thanked her for being a good dog, told her it would soon be over, that we would see to it. I comforted her as best I could and said my goodbyes. Scott brought a double lawn chair to shade her from the sun, and we sat with her. Finally I left him there and came back into the house.

He felt terrible, of course, and all I could really do was say that accidents happen, don’t blame yourself. We are doing what has to be done, now, for her sake.

I tried to keep busy, not knowing what to do with myself. I took the garbage out and tidied the kitchen, but didn’t want to hear the gunshot. I went to the south side of the house, into the office, and put the radio on.

By the time I looked out the window again Jenna lay stretched out, unmoving, on the ground and Bruce was taking a shovel from the back of the truck. It seemed to take him (maybe them; I suppose Scott was helping, but I couldn’t see the burial spot) a long time to dig a grave for her in a quiet corner of the yard, in the trees where Casper (our last old girl) is buried.

It was hard to look out, seeing Jenna’s body there. Her suffering was over, but it was sad just the same; a rotten way for her faithful, gentle life to end. When I saw Scott and Bruce walk out of the trees toward her body, my heart broke for Scott. I knew it would be killing him to see her and pick her up, and that he would do it gently, as if she were still alive, and that he would feel like crying but would not do so in front of his brother. Together they carried her to her final resting place.
It was all I could do to step outside later, aware that she was not coming to greet me as always, wagging her tail and “talking” with excitement because we might be going for a walk.
The next day I visited her grave and threw all my poppy and lavender seeds onto the freshly turned soil. 

Who will keep us awake at night now, cursing at her barking as she warns off the coyotes/foxes/raccoons/whatever prowling the perimeter of the farmyard? Who will meet us in the driveway with a toothy doggie smile when we come home at the end of a working day? Who will flop onto the ground and roll onto her back for a belly rub as soon as we pat her head for more than two seconds?

Weep at the death of a dog? Of course. We said goodbye to a friend; a sweet, gentle spirit we loved, who loved us.

They Know Where I Live

Early in April I decided to get a better grip on my "cash flow" by leaving my credit card at home and relying on actual cash. Each paycheque = so much into the savings account + so much into the chequing account + so much cash in my wallet. Straightforward and simple, it means there is no big credit card bill to pay at the end of the month; I'm not charging up anything, anywhere, that I will have to pay for later. If I run out of cash before the next payday, then I just wait a little longer to buy certain things. 

This has meant quite often passing things by that I would formerly have purchased. I skip some of the shopping/browsing I might normally have done. Instead of having/doing whatever I want right now and to hell with the size of the bill in a couple weeks, I wait till the next budgeted cash infusion. It's been an education, as I believed I'd always been at least a little bit frugal. I could and did pay off my credit card bill every month, but it was always a shock to my system to see the amount due. Small purchases really add up.

Anyway ... I'm getting to it, I'm getting to it ... the reason I started talking about this ... is that one of the reasons a handy credit card got to be a habit was that any time you ran out of cash, you had credit. Right? And now I don't have that convenience because my card is not with me. So yesterday morning I had no money but grabbed $25 of Scott's off the kitchen table before leaving for work and left him a note: "I'll pick up some beer." He's been in the field, cultivating I believe, for several long days and doesn't get into town so I thought he'd appreciate the gesture. 

And what do you think happened at the liquor board store? Yep. With one customer ahead of me and one in line behind, it occurred to me to wonder whether the box of beer in my hand might cost more than $25. I've never paid attention before; just grab what I want, tender the card, and bob's yer uncle. Who cares? I want it, I buy it. But this time, I was chagrined to be told at the counter that the beer would be more than $32. 

And this is the beauty of where I live: the guy next to me started fishing in his wallet, and so did a clerk. They'd lend me whatever I needed, they said. 

Yeah, yeah: they know where I live. But still ... it was just so very ... I don't know ... civilized! Like — like having brothers and sisters or old schoolbuddies everywhere you go. I gratefully accepted a loan of $10 and the beer is chilling in our fridge right now.  

I scrounged up 10 bucks and went to town this afternoon to repay her. No need to rush, she'd said, but I couldn't help thinking maybe I'd caused her to short her own cash supply! You never know. It does seem that everyone is using credit cards, because no one at the store yesterday was sure they'd have $10 cash to lend me. They all had to look into their wallets and see.

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Lorna has left a new comment on your post "Life at Golden Grain Farm": 

Peace in the kingdom is gorgeous! 

These images inspired me to tack them up in the 'relationships' bagua of our house to represent me and Scott.

Life at Golden Grain Farm

... On a good day, that is ... when there is peace in the kingdom:

The pages for two months from Llewellyn's Witches' Calendar

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Lorna has left a new comment on your post "The Other Side of 60": 

You have the most amazing people within your blogging companions. 

This is true! I count you among them. 

The Other Side of 60

Where on Earth did I first discover Wise Web Woman? At the moment I've no idea. I only know that when I see she has updated, I'm there reading, right now. Why? Because she's a fabulous writer, of course, but that's not all. It takes more than authorial skill to keep my wandering attention. But what is it? It's so difficult to describe what it is about someone's internet presence that grabs and keeps me. Maybe it's because she lives in Newfoundland, a place I've never been, and so I get to see it and its people vicariously. Maybe it's because she's an Irish immigrant and I imagine hearing the Irish in her voice when she writes. Maybe it's because she's had an eventful life and my favourite writing is autobiographical and Wise Web Woman has a lot to say. Other than that, maybe part of it is that Wise Web Woman seems like a kindred spirit. I mean, when I read her answer to Question #5, I thought: That's very similar to my idea of the holiday I hope to take before I die! You know, there are some people who, when they write, make you feel like you could knock on their kitchen door and sit right down and have coffee with them for an hour — every day. That's Wise Web Woman for me, and here are her answers to my 5 questions:

1. What flowers, if any, will you plant this spring?

None, soil poor I am alive with forget-me-nots and dog-roses which delight me. All over the meadow. I did plant lupines 2 years ago.

2. Do you have a #1 must-see, can't-wait-till-later blog right now (not a relative or close friend, though it can be themed and does not have to be a personal blog; of course, my blog is disqualified so my feelings cannot be hurt -- hee!), and why does it keep you coming back for more?  

Ok apart from yours? It would have to be "Going Gently". http://disasterfilm.blogspot.ca - life in a small village, animal lover, small farm, good cook, emergency room nurse, gossipy.

3. What are your other common stopping places on the Internet? Please list up to five and give me their urls. I'm sure you've got at least that many. 

(1) Hattie always good politically and ceramically (!) http://hattie.typepad.com/hatties_web (2) Time Goes By - brilliant on the aging process http://www.timegoesby.net/ (3) Yarn Harlot - what can I say, I love her and her knitting and her books http://www.yarnharlot.ca (4) Arts & Letters Daily http://www.aldaily.com/ (5) My journey to mindfulness - gentle musings from an 80+ lady whom I adore. + various political, newsy stuff.

4. When you go to a potluck meal, do you have a best dish that you usually take? If so, what is it and do you share your recipe? If so, please do.

My potluck can be chili, Irish lasagna, an orange chicken thingie on a rice bed. None of which I've written down but I will oh hang on - here's my chili recipe : http://wisewebwoman.blogspot.ca/search?q=chili

5. What's your idea of a fabulous holiday? Is it one you have already taken, or one you hope to take before you die?

My ideal holiday would be to go off with 3 or 4 good friends, rent a house for a month in New Mexico or Portugal - in February - and everyone have sketchpads and crafts and a laptop for writing and have a 4 hour dinner every night in candlelight and talk about our days.

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Go and bookmark THE OTHER SIDE OF SIXTY for yourself.
And WWW, thank you for these great-looking links! I'll be checking them out, for sure, as soon as we get a rainy Sunday morning here.

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Maggie Turner on "Ugliest Ashtray Contest": 

Kate, I had one that rivals your specimen, but it is gone, and in a way I'm glad, because I made it myself. Not all creative efforts result in beauty, but I had to find that out for myself. That ashtray is resting somewhere in someone's home, or in a landfill site. 

Beauty and ugliness are both in the eye of the beholder, but let's face it, the beholder's tastes change. In my twenties I bought my mother a set of ceramic mugs and matching coffee pot that I thought were the most beautiful works of art. Twenty years later I could not figure out why I ever thought they were worthy of my mother's kitchen. UG. LY.

Ugliest Ashtray Contest

When I bought my little camper, it came with some pots and pans and dishes and this, the ugliest ashtray in the world. It's so ugly that I haven't been able to part with it. I figure there must be an Ugliest Ashtray contest somewhere, someday, and I have the perfect entry!

If you have an ashtray that can top this one for pure disgustability, please send a photo.

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Maggie Turner on "It Begins": 

Your farm is so different than the farm I grew up on Kate! We were in Niagara and grew tender fruit, very labour intensive from March until the snow flew, then nothing. Tender fruit needed all kinds of specialized attention, each type of fruit had its own demands. We didn't have any field crops, crops that could be harvested with a tractor, everything was hand picked, and packed. There were a few tasks that a tractor could do, harrowing the vineyard rows. I love seeing how your farm works! 

It's an education for me too, actually. I never worked on a farm, though I lived on one as a teenager. We had livestock for only two years, I think, and I only had to put the ducks in at night. I don't remember any other chores. It's interesting to see close-up how things are done, especially on an organic farm where they treat illnesses (in cattle or soil or crops) in a different way than conventional farmers do.

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Maggie Turner on "Let's Go to Kelvington": 

That is an incredible picture of Scott and his Grandma! 

He goes up to Kelvington every second Saturday to make supper and eat with her, taking turns with the rest of the family so that Grandma doesn't have to cook anymore. I hadn't gone along for quite a while, so this visit was long overdue.

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Maggie Turner on y"Tealites from Thailand": 

That is a wonderful thing, that the ticks carrying Lyme disease are not in your area! They are in our area, although I haven't seen any, I'm not sure I would recognize them if I saw them. We are using permethrin sprayed clothing, and wearing high rubber boots when walking around in the bush, and we are hoping that will work. But in your hair you say! How do they get up that high, I thought they hung out in the grass, so much for that bit of misinformation. 

 I walked under the trees a couple times, but wasn't in long grass. At least, never for long. A person passes through once in a while. 

I had repellent oils on my shoes and socks and hands and neck, etc., and in my hair! and wore long sleeves and had my jeans tucked into my socks. I also had a hat on part of the time.

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Lorna on "Tealites from Thailand": 

Those are lovely tea light holders. Even though I claim to not be an animal person, I find joy in so much animal-related art.

I still can't imagine what life on a farm can be like---I only know I have none of the skills that would help. 

I don't do any farming, Lorna, so can take no credit for skills, whatsoever. I'm just in the fortunate position of being able to live on a farm without having to grow the crops or feed the livestock. Occasionally at seeding or harvest time when Scott starts early and goes late, I whip up a meal to take to the field if it dawns on me that he might be starving out there, and usually find out that he planned to be home in half an hour so it wasn't necessary. 

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