Around the House

September Brings Summer

Harvest is under way.

Today I saw my first large flock of Canada geese, this fall, grouped up for migration.

We're finally getting summer weather. After nine months of unseasonable cold, we're now breaking records for September temperatures.

Nothing too new. It's Scott's 50th birthday and he's celebrating by fighting strep throat, lying on the couch, watching TV, and being pissed off about not being able to work on such a fine day.

Around the Yard

Didn't Everett do a fine job on the Adirondack furniture?

Scott suggested (after I'd bought the paint) that it would have been wise to choose a colour that would match the house. We haven't picked a colour for the siding yet, so his point was moot.

However, it turns out that the colour looks great with the flowers. Don't you think? And hey, I could do with a purple house.

Tree-Climbing Mutt

The dog who climbs trees.

She is a plague to the three cats who live in the farmyard, one of which can be seen, barely, in the maple. One of the cats will let the pup chew on him, and will snuggle up with and rub against the pup. Quite cute.

Still Under Construction

My living room.

Actually, last week I unpacked the reclining chair from its box and left it right where it'd be the first thing Scott saw when he came in the door. He thinks it's very fine. As do we all.

Alas, there is still window trim and some touchups to be done in the living room, as well as putting the baseboards back on, so it seems sensible to leave new furniture in cardboard for now.

I don't need much room, just enough to spread out my yoga mat in front of the picture window. Speaking of which, I haven't done the Rites today. Must get back over there and do them before I forget. It's so nice out, I won't be able to stay indoors but will have to come in and escape the sun after an hour or so in the garden, I'm sure. The house has remained cool all summer, which is welcome on the hot days.

Out With the Gals

Girls love desserts.

What more can I say?

Feverfew for Migraines

Tea made from feverfew tastes medicinal. Add a sprig of fresh mint.

An herb-growing fella kindly gave me a lemon verbena plant this spring. Now that makes a beautiful tea.

***

Off to town. It's my monthly afternoon for visiting patients at the hospital and residents at the nursing home. My palliative-care team partner, Willis, will be waiting for me at 2 o'clock and we'll wander the rooms and hallways for two hours or so, chatting with people. Willis has already met most of them, having lived in this area for a lot longer than me. She used to do home care for Grandma in Margo, actually, and was very good to Grandma, taking her on restaurant outings and such.

Checking Cattle

Scott, the Pied Piper of his cattle.

They all come to see what's up, and he counts and inspects.

Alpaca

A neighbour at the nursing home is this shy alpaca.

At least I think it's an alpaca. Maybe it's a llama.

A few years ago, a woman was seriously hurt when she entered a livestock pen that llamas were used to protect. One of the animals simply sat on the woman, so that she could neither get up nor breathe properly.

Fortunately her husband went looking for her and was able to get the animal off in time to save her life.

Blue Jelly and Dilled Beans

Our road on a summer evening.

It's Labour Day, a national holiday, so the kids are home and even Scott seems to be taking a day off.

While digging through boxes of recipe books I pulled out one I read years ago and kept: Blue Jelly— Love Lost and the Lessons of Canning, by Debby Bull. Using an unusual method, the author lifts herself out of the depression following a heartbreak. How does she do it? Through canning.

Blue Jelly contains 15 recipes, one of which I am following today after picking green beans at Faye and Rick's last night at sunset. The water in the canner is taking forever to boil, to sterilize the sealers. Shoulda started with hot water; live 'n' learn. It's been some years since I've made dill beans or pickles, and I never was more than a beginner.

It's a lovely little book and I'd recommend it to anyone. Especially anyone with a broken heart.

Joni

Joni Mitchell's painting of herself, her grandchildren and her daughter.

Indian Summer

Some flowers normally blooming in July are blossoming now. It's been a strange summer.

Don't suppose you've gathered that I've got a thing for brass? Aunt Jean gave me that little cauldron on the left after asking me what I'd like from her china cabinet. On the front of the cauldron is a witch stirring a pot over a fire.

There's been a full or nearly full moon all week, and it shines directly onto the bed. After some six years in a basement bedroom with a north-facing window, always closed, I was tickled to be able to have the window in the bedroom at GGFarm open all night several times this week. Summer's been too cool for this, till now. I bask in the bright moonlight like a sun-shy vampire.

Everett is applying the third and final coat of paint to the lawn furniture. He was pleased to receive an honorable mention at school for having an average in the 80s last year. He was surprised to get anything, he said, because he always thinks he's dumb. This is so weird. Where does he get an idea like that? It's so far off the truth, and he's had plenty of experiences that prove it.

Emil's barricaded in his bedroom, listening to Dead Can Dance. When I arrived an hour ago, it was Valdy I heard through the door while rinsing some fresh feverfew clippings and taking the dried basil leaves off their stems. The dehydrator's been running for many days. Yesterday I brought in more calendula flowers; can make a skin cream out of them, or tea. The ones dried last week are in a jar with olive oil for cooking or salad dressing.

I'm wearing a new skirt, expecting Scott to arrive any time to get cleaned up. I'm taking him out for his birthday supper, along with our friends Faye and Rick. We're off to The Old House Café. Just need to wash my sticky-up hair before we leave. Made the mistake of using my texturizing shears on it a little too enthusiastically. Oh well. It always grows.

Not Quite Hawaii

The bird in the birdbath broke off the first summer I had it, but Helen gave me this dancing lady and I thought she'd be a nice addition to the garden.

Okay, back to work. I'm hard at it. Two more hours to go; maybe three, if I get ambitious and want to bank an extra hour for some paid holiday in the future. That would be wise. But the sun is shining, even though we've just had a few sprinkles, and you know what that means: Kathy wants out.

Camp Easter Seal and Such

Emil was disappointed, he said, when I arrived to pick him up from Camp Easter Seal.

He tells me they were busy: swimming in the mineral pool (“refreshing,” he pronounced) filled with the healing waters of Lake Manitou, a variety night, Harry Potter at the drive-in, horseback riding, a singsong, a wagon ride, a murder mystery evening, a banquet and dance on the last night. He is never ready to come home.

Yesterday was the boys' first day back at school. Emil is in Grade 12 for the third year in a row, if I'm counting right (don't count on it). People keep asking me, so let me explain: students like Emil, who have developmental delays, can continue going to school until they're 22 if they are still progressing along the learning curve. Emil's practising life skills like counting money, shopping, and cooking, among a variety of other useful classes. This year he'll work two full days a week at Mallard Industries, where he worked only mornings last year. It's a sheltered workshop where employees are supervised. Emil's job is to sort plastic containers that people have brought in for recycling. He likes his job, he says. When he finishes school in June, he'll go on to full-time work at the recycling centre.

Everett's in Grade 12 this year and both boys are in the same home room.

It's summer, yippee! My flower garden is gorgeous, though sloppily riotous. Honestly, why can't I just be happy with it, ever? Oh no; always I have to be thinking about the changes I'll make next year. But sometimes I walk around the corner and it dazzles me. I hope we don't have a freeze for many weeks. Hmph. Likely story.

I'm over the stiff neck/back business finally and was able to put in a full day at the desk today. This morning I hustled out to the herb patch to harvest some oregano before the bees got really busy, in which case I wouldn't dare disturb them. And now I'm about to package up the tomato sauce I made while I was over here (the old place) yesterday, and freeze it.

So I'll just leave you with a couple links to visit:

Corey Amaro was traveling by motorbike in Europe with her French Husband:

Go back a ways; her photos and stories of the trip make me want to go there. Maybe someday, when I can imagine enjoying travel again. It's been many years since I've had that urge. But I enjoy every entry in Corey's blog. She's so full of heart and the love of everyday living.

I wonder what Corey and French Husband would have thought if they'd come across a stop sign in the Cree language? You'll have to scroll down the page, which is part of young Stephan's account of his time with Katimavik (I think Everett should consider a stint with Katimavik when he's done Grade 12. The nine months I spent with the project back in 1978-79 are among the dearest memories I have, and account for some of my dearest friends). According to Stephan, "the Cree word for stop is pronounced chipchee."

And now I am getting outside to enjoy a couple hours of sunshine.

A Farm is a Home for a Dog

Don't they look happy and contented?

They (not the one in the middle; Sara was just visiting) were making a racket around five this morning. Even the little one was barking. I hear a neighbour's cattle were out, so that was probably the reason.

Finally we've got summer days. The flower garden is glorious. Today I rescued a drowning grasshopper from the rainwater barrell. There are quite a few grasshoppers around; Chloe likes to pounce and chew on them. I see them in my flowers and remind myself that "There is plenty for all."

Everett applied the second coat of paint to the lawn furniture today. It looks great but still needs another coat. He's not happy but hey, what can you do? Of course there will be a photo of the finished product.

Nothing got done at the house this weekend. Don't ask me why. Other things got in the way, I suppose. Scott woke up with a cold during the night and is lying about, this afternoon. Except for loading up some cattle from the pasture in preparation for hauling them to a sale, he hasn't accomplished anything obvious today.

I'm about to head back over to the new place and might climb into bed myself. My neck is stiff as hell; don't know what I did to it. I haven't done much either. Some dishes at both houses. Snipped the sage and put it in the dehydrator. Put away the dried herbs first so there'd be some free trays. Pulled some weeds, watered the cosmos in the flower pots. We've got heat; after the past month of cold and rain, I almost forgot to see whether plants were starting to dry out.

The concert last night was good but only about 13 people attended. That must have been disappointing for the performers, who drove two hours to get out here. It was held in the Anglican church; nice little church, all wood, quite small. Very cosy. Next on the house concert list is Joel Fafard, who has made a name for himself and is generally getting well known, though that may not mean much in these parts — people are just plain busy at this time of year, and when they're not busy, they're tired. Dragging themselves to a concert may be too much to ask. Sometimes it's the last thing I feel like doing, too.

I Ate Too Much

Not really. I made sure to save room for dessert.

This is the last year for The Old House Café, the fine dining establishment in Kuroki. Chef Julia will be found next summer down at the beach instead, flipping burgers and sizzling fries. "Not that there's anything wrong with that," but I hate to see the place close up. Few places around here have good grub and the pretty atmosphere.

We're off to a house concert in town. Paschall and Dahl, a '40s swing/jazz/blues duo.

Leaves are Starting to Turn Colour Already

The footpath into my tiny herb garden is made with woolly thyme, which releases a flowery fragrance when stepped on.

The Likeminded Ladies are meeting for supper tonight at the Old House Cafe in Kuroki, so I am working like a dog trying to log enough hours for today and to make up for yesterday, when as well as picking and prepping herbs for drying, I had to make use of the gallon of raspberries Everett picked from the patch the day before. I made a double batch of freezer jam, which turned out delicious, if I say so myself.

Listening to Delores O'Riordon (formerly of the Cranberries) sing, as the live guest on the cultural affairs show Q on CBC Radio. I like her music but love hearing her Irish accent just about as much. Charming.

And now, back to work.

Herb Harvest

Casper shortcuts through the garden.

When people ask if I'm gardening, I say "only flowers." Truth is, there are herbs to harvest. I'm bringing in feverfew, lemon verbena, oregano, basil, thyme, and mint. Also calendula, a flower that has reseeded itself since last fall, and yarrow and plantain, which grow wild.

They'll be used for medicinal teas and tinctures, and oils. All easily made.

That twenty-dollar dehydrator I bought at a garage sale in Kelowna earns its keep at this time of year, when I'm drying lots of things at once.

Angels Among Us

Look at these two little sweethearts! Angels if ever there were any.

These darlings, Kelsey and Elizabeth, are the daughters of my cousins Jolene and Leanne (Uncle Neil's daughters).

These photos were taken at the Benson (Mom's) family reunion.

These two aren't quite so little nor so angelic, but they're sweet too. Danielle, on the left, is my niece (sister Karen's daughter), and Heather is my cousin (Neil's daughter).


Definitely no angels, the older they come the worse they get. May I present The Ugly Sisters:

 The one on the right (me) is badly in need of a haircut and the one on the left (Karen) doesn't usually look quite so goofy. The baby (Joan) is always as cute as a button.

And Life Goes On

Everett primes the Adirondack furniture in preparation for painting; Cara's ultrasound displays the unborn baby's face; Scott scans the horizon for pelicans.