No arachnophobes in this house

 

When I travelled to Australia, I made the mistake of reading the Lonely Planet’s guide to the most poisonous animals on the continent. For the first week I had trouble venturing outside as a result – until someone told me that you are just as likely to find a funnel web spider or carpet snake inside as out. That information came in handy when I found out that the thumping in the wall behind my bed was actually a harmless carpet snake climbing up to the loft, where she would slither inside, coil herself around the rafter and spend the night.

It was also helpful to learn that the larger huntsman spiders tend to be harmless. There certainly were enough of them, in the garage and under the sun visor of our SUV, ready to pop out and surprise us at any moment (once our startled driver almost went off the road). I also met the shower spider when I was in Brisbane. When the power went out, I showered the sea salt off myself in virtual darkness. At first, I thought the fuzzy thing that had fallen onto my foot was a facecloth. Until it moved.

When I’m frightened, I go completely silent. I got out of the shower and without drying off, wrapped a towel around myself and opened the door to the kitchen. My host and his uncle were sitting there on the couch, drinking beer. “Did you meet Harry, then?” they asked.

That introduction to the wild world of arachnids was good practice for me, when I became a cottage owner. Otherwise, I might have been a bit put off when I realized a family of wolf spiders (cousins to the huntsman) had taken up residence in the closet. They introduced themselves one day when I was sitting at my desk, by skittering across my laptop keyboard. They made me jump, then they jumped themselves. They are actually kind of cute and they do eat other bugs (like the dreaded mosquito) – but I swept them outside anyway.

The other day I realized that there is a daddy longlegs on the ceiling above our shower. It seems to be catching ladybugs, so I let it remain. The ladybugs are terrible pests – I vacuum or wipe them off the window every day, but they still find their way into my bed – and my water bottle – most nights.

Then the Farmer pointed out that the daddy long legs has a wife. And she appears to be nesting. I don’t mind sharing my bathroom with one bug-eating spider, but I’m not sure I want a whole clutter in there, watching me shower.

Even the robin's flight south was cancelled

 

 

I was walking Fergus down the road the other day when he stopped and stared up at a tree. I followed his line of sight up to one of the fattest robins I have ever seen. Even the dog seemed to think it strange to see a robin here in January. Worms are frozen this time of year, yes? I look forward to seeing the first robin every spring, as a harbinger of warm weather and the end to winter. Don’t tell me we have totally messed up bird nature with climate change too.

I’ve seen other people in Eastern Ontario posting photos of robin sightings online. Apparently there are quite a few of them that decided to stay for the winter. Someone even caught a picture of a robin fishing in the open river for a minnow. I did some research and this is what I found out.

Robins are nomadic, so while they may have left your property, they may not have flown south. In the colder month their diet has to change, so they will relocate to a place where they can find berries or fallen apples. And they aren’t actually fat – the bird I saw was likely doing something called “rousing” – a fluffing of the feathers for optimal warmth. Robins have more than one layer of feathers, so they can trap warm air next to the body, to stay dry and warm in winter.

According to most online sources, there isn’t much you can do to help robins in winter. If food becomes scarce, they will simply move on. They won’t eat from your birdfeeder because they have learned that food is found in shrubs or on the ground. You might try leaving out some suet, berries, raisins or chopped apples. But they are pretty good at fending for themselves.

Someone else suggested a warm bird bath might be helpful, because the robin spends most of its energy in winter shivering to stay warm. If it had warm water to drink, this might help.

I don’t know who to believe with this conflicting information, so I’ve got all bases covered. I’ve put out some suet and berries, and my warm water bird bath should be here next week. I just hope it doesn’t attract every member of the winter animal kingdom. I don’t want to look out the kitchen window and see a coyote out there enjoying the spa.

The main cohort of robins is expected to return right on schedule in spring when the ground melts and worms can be found again. That’s one mystery solved. Now what about that huge murder of crows?

The gold chain

My dad was a snappy dresser. He was the last generation of public-school teachers to wear a suit to work, every day. He never wore running shoes because he had no intention of running. His sweatpants never made it outside the house. He ironed his jeans. He wasn’t fond of jewellery, except for his thick gold wedding band, and a flat serpentine chain. 

When my dad passed away in January 2008 after just four months of illness, we were all in shock and struggling to face a world without his huge presence in it. I decided to throw myself into a new challenge at work and found the learning curve quite steep. I needed quiet, so I could focus. Mom had gone to Florida with friends, and the house was empty. I packed a lunch and brought my work there. I spread my files out on the coffee table and opened up my laptop. I sat quietly on the couch and closed my eyes. The house hummed with the energy that our family had embedded in its walls over the previous twenty years. I felt a sense of total comfort and support, as if he was still there, sitting in his favourite armchair to my right, answering my questions and encouraging me. My mind was clear and the words came easily as my fingers flew across the keyboard. My focus on that first assignment was laser sharp. The work led me into a whole new path in my career. I doubled my salary overnight and began making what my writing was worth – for the first time in my life. 

A year later I had taken on yet another challenge, as project manager on a documentary film project. It was completely out of my realm of professional experience, but I felt pushed and supported by the trust of the Indigenous group that had requested me on the assignment. As we packed our bags to head up to Northern Quebec, I realized I didn’t have a suitable jacket for the damp chill of springtime in the North. I borrowed one from my Mom. 

As I walked out on the frozen Rupert River to assist our film crew on that chilly April morning, I slid my hand into the pocket of Mom’s coat. My fingers closed around something, and I pulled it out to take a closer look. I recognized it immediately as the gold chain that my father wore continually in summer. It had been polished to a shine by the leather of his tanned neck. I put it around my own, under my scarf. I felt him walking with me as I stepped out confidently onto the ice. 

It took my mother a couple years until she was ready to bury my father’s ashes. His remains are on a soft hillside overlooking the creek in Oxford Mills. We have found deer prints there occasionally, near his headstone. He would like that. But I don’t feel his presence there, so I don’t visit the site often. I can’t visit the old house anymore either, as it has been sold and my mother has moved on. Now, when I want to feel close to my dad, I wear his gold chain. 

I realize it would be unwise to form an attachment to this inanimate token of my father’s memory, because that would just lead to my losing it. I need to find other ways to keep his memory alive, before I forget the sound of his voice, the tilt of his smile, the touch of his hand and the glint in his blue-green eyes.

Remembering Larry / Grandpa / Dad, and keeping him alive in our hearts

 

Larry Andrew Alan Leeson

September 4, 1941 - January 14, 2008

It’s been fourteen years since we said goodbye to a very special person.

He wasn’t a saint. He wasn’t always easy to live with. But he loved teaching, laughing, dancing, and driving. And he lives on in the memory of so many. If we could, we would pass these messages on to him today.

Hi Dad, 

We keep hearing your favourite song "Rasputin" and catch ourselves mimicking your dance moves along to the music. 

We still have dreams of you where you are helping us to be good moms - where you would have been a great grandpa, and Dad. 

Miss you so much. ~Cathy.

Dad,

I keep hearing funny stories about you – so I’m writing them down before I forget them. I hope you don’t mind – I might turn them into a book someday. There are more than a few life lessons in there for all of us. From you, I learned to follow my heart and do my best. I learned to notice that everyone is good at something, so we shouldn’t compare. I learned that if someone gets the courage to ask you for something, you should give it to them, if you can afford to. And if someone asks you to dance, dance.

I love you, Dad. ~Dee.

Dear Larry,

Wow!  Fourteen years since you left us; the years are going by so quickly now.  

Your family of five generations misses you and we talk about you often, your favourite music and crazy sayings, so the younger ones will know you too.

During this pandemic, I have felt so grateful to be living comfortably in my own home and with wonderful memories of our43-plus years together ... raising our two beautiful daughters, building homes, boating, snowmobiling, travelling.  Thanks for spurring me on so often to make those life-changing decisions that make my life what it is today.

You were one of a kind and will always be loved.  

Maureen

 

 

What is your WOTY for 2022?

 

Many different organizations around the world declare a Word of the Year for different purposes. Usually it’s the word that has had the greatest impact on the population. The Merriam Webster Word of the Year for 2022 is: VACCINE. In 2021, the word was PANDEMIC.

Well, those words may indeed be the stars of the search engines these days, for many different reasons. But I prefer to choose my own personal Word of the Year each January as a positive guidepost of sorts. It’s my form of New Year’s Resolution.

In the past, I have chosen words like: Present (to remind me to stay focused on the here and now, instead of getting caught up in things that have already happened or worrying about what is to come); Less (as a reminder that I already have more than enough, so why eat / drink / buy more? Except where books are concerned, of course – you can never have too many books); and Listen (another way to stay present and grounded, as I work to develop my grandmothering skills). This year, I have chosen a word that will remind me to make time for my favourite lifelong pastime, because it brings me joy and relieves stress.

As a little girl, I kept a daily journal. I had the traditional kind with the tiny lock and key. Each evening I listed things like what I ate, what I wore, who I saw, who hurt my feelings, and what new song I heard on the radio. Into my teen years I secretly listed the names of the boys I liked, while carefully recording the fashion and hairstyle details of the girls I admired. I didn’t write with any particular goal in mind. I certainly wasn’t planning to publish my journals some day. And yet, I wrote. If not every night, then at least every week, without fail.

Journaling helped to keep my brain organized. It was like a data dump of worries and concerns that allowed me to clear my head so I could sleep soundly. I found it especially helpful when I was a young mother. Sometimes at the end of the year I burned my journals, as a symbol of a hopeful change in direction for the year to come.

Over the years as I took on writing professionally, I let my journaling habit fall by the wayside. This year I have been gifted a brand new journal and I plan to use it. Who knows? Someone might find my notes interesting in the future, after I’m gone. My word of the year is WRITE.

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2021: The Farmwife Year in Review

 

Well they say we should never look back but I always like to do a quick review as one year ends and another begins.

As 2021 began we were in the thick of quarantine and isolation from loved ones. The upside to this, if there is one, is that we rediscovered The Great Canadian Winter. My memories of January and February are about meeting family and friends at the toboggan hill, burning Christmas trees in a fragrant bonfire, and skating down a winding forest trail. We bundled up, poured the cocoa, and made the best of it. It looks like I will be dusting off the snowpants again this year.

As the snow melted and the calendar pages flipped we braced ourselves for another wave in the spring. Two of our daughters’ households were hit with Covid and we held our breath until they made it through, virtually unscathed. Our Easter gathering was cancelled and schools closed, but we managed to get out to the dog park often so that we could see each other.

For Mother’s Day, my daughters surprised me with a picnic in the back meadow. We had charcuterie and mimosas on quilts surrounded by dandelions, under a sky of rolling clouds. I might request that again this year – it was more fun than a restaurant reservation.

In May I started a new job that allows me to work from home permanently. Like many others during this pandemic, I have taken stock of my priorities and made changes to reduce the stress that comes from getting up before dawn to commute to the city. I can also shift my working hours to accommodate personal time with grandchildren. This has deeply enriched my quality of life, and I truly believe it has led to improved health and quality of sleep.

We spent the summer at the cottage. My family bought me a kayak for my birthday, and the Ferg and I enjoyed many leisurely paddles around the lake. The cabin was a great retreat from the pandemic, and I became a happy recluse.

In the fall we were able to host our traditional large Thanksgiving gathering at the farm. I am really glad that we were able to do this safely, because I had really missed our extended family over the past 18 months.

Christmas 2021 was once again held outside in the stable but hey – that’s where it all began isn’t it? We might keep at least part of that as our holiday tradition going forward. Everyone seems to enjoy a hot drink beside a campfire in the snow.

Now that we have made it safely through another pandemic year, we are ready to launch ourselves (masked) into 2022.

Wishing you and your family a Very Happy – and Healthy - New Year!

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Answering the call

I often hear, “you’re all over the place!” Especially in the fall and winter, I seem to be busy volunteering as MC at local charity events (pre-Covid, anyway), working in the food bank and manning the kettle for the Salvation Army. I have always enjoyed volunteering in the community. It’s a very rewarding pastime. And I’m not affluent, so instead of writing a cheque, I donate my time and efforts. But to be honest, I volunteer to feel that I am doing something in a sometimes helpless situation.

 

Did you know that the demand on our local food bank has more than tripled since the beginning of the pandemic? There are a variety of reasons for this. Many people were laid off. Some had family members turn to them for help, and their household grew in size. Others are unable to work, due to health concerns and other factors. We have people accessing the food bank for the first time, fully dressed for work. They have jobs – but they can’t pay rising housing, fuel and utility costs while also putting healthy food on the table. It’s a very difficult situation to be in – and it’s happening in large part to frontline workers: those in long term care and customer service.

 

It's frustrating that our government doesn’t have a firm plan in place to stock food bank shelves in order to support the people who keep things operating safely in a pandemic - people who are forced to put their own health at risk so that our seniors will be well cared for and we can access the grocery store. Our local food bank did gratefully receive a hefty grant from the government as emergency funding. That money was to be used during the pandemic, and it helped to stock shelves for the past year. It is spent now, and there is no sign of a renewal of financial support in the near future.

 

While our funding disappears, our numbers remain steady. Many food bank clients are returning to work, but they still need help to feed their families. Costs have gone up. Shifts have been reduced. The world is not the same as it was – and it won’t be changing anytime soon. Our need continues while our support fades away. We are working on sustainable plans for community sponsorship and support, because we know we will have to raise much of the funds ourselves.

 

This is why I ring the bells at the Salvation Army kettle. We hope to raise enough money to stock our shelves for several months after this Christmas campaign. Thank you for your donations. Every dollar helps.

 

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