Tuesday, May 11, 2021
A Day in the Life
Sunday, May 9, 2021
Miracles happen
sometimes when it seems things can't possibly get worse, they find a way to do just that.
and other times, when hope has meandered out the door without so much as a glance back over her shoulder, someone else saunters into the room... the one you were convinced you would sit in alone until everything had crumbled around you. a moment ago it was dark in here.... but there's a glow starting off to the side there..... and, would you look at that! you weren't alone at all. and it's not really so dark.... and hope was just stepping out to make tea. she returns with a shy smile, and hands you a steaming cuppa.
with a cookie for dunking. I hope it's gluten free, and sugar free, and still delicious. is that even possible?
the spring leaves cautiously unfurling from their branch tips touch the hillsides with tiny flecks of soft green, like stroke of a paintbrush lightly loaded and gently applied. It must be a wet-on-wet painting, though. What was, at dawn, a mere hint of green is, by the end of the day, spreading and deepening across the landscape. A hint becomes a certainty, becomes insistent that a change is taking place
Changes
It's not the end of the world, I guess. Some days it feels like it. After 10 years of hard work and many realized dreams, I must sell my B & B.
I'm not ready. There are half finished projects clamouring for attention, snagging my eye at every blink... the greenhouse, ongoing landscaping, upgrading the kitchen, egress in the attic suite..... and dreams for the future littering the floor in every room. This was supposed to be my legacy - a gorgeous and successful bed and breakfast, famous for its hospitality, food, and early 20th century charm.
But, as they say, all things come to an end. It has been a good run, and it makes my heart hurt to lose my gracious Georgian style domicile. Thanks a whole heap, COVID 19. With travel disallowed, no one is needing overnight stays on their journey. At one point early in 2019 I was down to one long-term stay. The house has never been empty since I began this adventure, but these past 2 years have been lean ones. Music instruction income also all but disappeared. If not for a part time job as administrator for the local arts centre, I'd have been hungry and homeless for a year already.
So, the changes. The finance company has refused my request for just one more deferral on my weekly mortgage payments. The fertilizer has hit the ventilator. The house must be sold.
My realtor, the mum of 2 former violin students, has begun to send me little lists of things I need to have in place to ready the place to sell as a turnkey business operation. I'm working on yearly financial statements - not my favourite way to pass the time. I was at it for for 4 hours last night, after the day job. Ten years' collection of local art, old linens, glassware, furniture and heritage garden plantings will stay, hopefully for someone who wants to continue the old girl's career as a heritage B & B. There's a magnificent solid walnut dining suite, with hutch and sideboard, that was purchased when the house was built. I'm loath to part with that. This magnificent dining set is the heart of the house. You don't rip out someone's heart. If I can't sell the place with contents, I've promised it to my eldest son, who's always loved working with wood, and appreciates fine craftsmanship. There's also a hundred year old piano, that, if at all possible, will come with me.... wherever I go. No one wants these old instruments - they're desperately heavy and hard to move. It breaks my heart to think of it disassembled to make something cute or trendy, or left somewhere to die a dissonant, agonizing death. And the assortment of stringed instruments and shelves filled with sheet music and books.... what's in their future?
I've begun to collect things that are personal, meaningful, that I'd like to either pass on to someone who cares for them, or take with me (again, wherever I go from here) I'll store them in the studio and garden shed. (which must both be emptied of anything superfluous first) What will happen to my books? My sewing equipment and fabric stash? Will I be going to somewhere they can live? So much depends on the sale of the house. If I get what I'd like for it, purchase of a smaller home, mortgage free will be an option. If the old girl doesn't sell and is repossessed, all bets are off. I could be homeless this time next year.
These are interesting times.... in the worst meaning of the phrase. But I'll find my way through somehow. I'm resilient like that. Meanwhile, my heart hurts, and often my head joins the sad song. Writing becomes therapy. I have made a commitment to write daily, to alleviate anxiety, and to flex my authorial muscles for possible future use. A laptop doesn't take up much space, and can go almost anywhere. Regardless of the final outcome, writing is something I can continue, and it's good for me.
I'll write a new chapter in this life of adventures, upheaval and blessings. It's not the end of the world.
Sunday, November 22, 2020
A Boy and His Dog at the End of the World By C. A. Fletcher
Yet another dystopian novel... not my usual thing. I don’t enjoy reading about wars or violent clashes. These ‘end of the world’ stories so often focus on the worst qualities in human nature.
This one’s not all sun ripened peaches and cute puppies either, but the ‘good’ characters are fallible and believable in their goodness, ‘bad’ characters are self deluded and not always self assured in their badness.
Dogs in a story always improve it, and there are some lovely unexpected twists.
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
A New Chapter
My 3rd summer here, I rented a man-lift, primed the house and painted the it a lovely green.... taken from the green speckles in the shingle colour. During the 2 weeks I had the machine I also trimmed the large maples in the front yard and on the east side. L Last summer, I laid out the garden hose on the front lawn, in shapes I thought would make attractive island beds, and sprayed the resulting outlines with white paint. This gave me a rough idea how big to make them, and how wide the meandering pathways of lawn between them would be. When that was to my liking, I dug up strips of turf along the outlines, wide enough to lay bricks into, and covered the grass where the bed would be with layers of cardboard, earth, and wood chip mulch. This took many wheelbarrow loads of soil from the hill made in the back yard where I'd had the pond dug.... and most of the summer.
Last autumn, I dug the ancient peonies from the east side of the house, divided and planted them in the new beds, along with some some heritage irises I'd got from an old homestead and hostas I'd put between the peonies when I first bought the house. There was an old concrete sidewalk between the peonies and the house, that had a determined tilt toward the house which encouraged spring melt and summer rain to collect against the foundation and find its way into the basement. T This summer's project has been to break up the old sidewalk and fill the hole with soil, preparatory to planting grass where the sidewalk once was. this proved to be a bigger job than expected, as there was another sidewalk beneath. each of them was a good 8 inches thick. 3 utility trailer loads of broken concrete were delivered to the local landfill, every piece moved by hand. I have biceps to die for. The sidewalk that approaches the front of the house will need to be replaced
eventually as well. Amongst the weeds and quack grass in the beds against the house were a few rugged, ancient perennials! Heritage poppies, delphiniums, columbine and icelandic poppies were barely holding their own... but with some encouragement, they now fill the beds. I planted a forsythia in there a few years ago, that I'd given up on, but it's making a comeback this year. The back yard, once a desolate expanse of lawn... (can you tell I'm not a fan of acres of manicured grass?) now has a dry creek bed filled with smooth river stones, and a pond at one end, to divert and collect water away from the house. There's a shed and a greenhouse, and the rest of the space is in the process of becoming vegetable gardens, along the back lane.
There's a little wooden bridge across the 'creek', near the pond, which is tucked at the feet of a massive rose bush with soft pink blossoms. She loves it that the water collects there for her, and shows her appreciation with a heavy blush of sweet scented blooms through all of June. My grandmother's tiger lilies and irises follow me from place to place,

faithfully sharing their glory with every neighborhood they travel to.

The greenhouse is in its first season of operation.... the painting wasn't quite finished before planting time. Perhaps there'll be a chance to finish it in fall. there wasn't money for materials for proper beds, so I scrounged tubs and trash cans and an old bathtub. The tomatoes, peppers and cucumbers don't seem to mind. There are also rosemary, lemon grass, tomatillos and gazania in pots in the greenhouse. when it's finished it will have electricity, so I can hang a chandelier and plug in a tea kettle.... and a solar heated shower in the back corner by the door connecting it to the shed. The windows on the left all hinge open from the top, on chains, for ventilation.
The star of the greenhouse is this artichoke plant.
Across the yard from the greenhouse is the studio (formerly a small one car garage), where I give music lessons. It's chaos right now, as I spend every available moment working on the yard, but you can see the piano, the desk, and in the foreground on the left is the table holding my painting and printmaking materials. there's a big work table just out of sight behind the painting supplies. In the basket cube front and centre are wooden Brio trains & tracks for siblings of students to play quietly with while they and Mum or Dad wait during lessons. the studio is my happy place, especially in winter, when I can't play in the dirt. There I can make all the mess and noise I want, without bothering my B & B guests.
The little sofa folds out into a bed. When I know I'm going to be working in the studio late, I make the bed up so Mr. Dog can get his beauty sleep. He doesn't like being up late, and he mutters and grumbles at me about it. When I finish what i'm working on, I join him there for the night. Musicians on the Home Routes circuit who stay at my home often choose to stay on the hide-a-bed in the studio rather than in the house. I used to apologize when it was the only bed available, but they often seem to prefer it.... It's never in the state of dishabille you see here when a guest is using it..... so I've stopped apologizing.
Friday, January 26, 2018
I came by the blog world, just to show some of what I consider the best blogs to a teen-aged violin student who loves to write, and is curious about blogging.... and was reminded of how much I enjoyed it.... got a bit nostalgic, so i'll post some pictures of my latest creative efforts. I'm recently returned home from 2 1/2 weeks at the Puppetry Intensive at the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity, in Banff, Alberta. The town of Banff is in Banff National Park, in the heart of the Rocky Mountains. It's stunning. And the Banff Centre is built on the shoulders of Sleeping Buffalo Mountain, which sits in the centre of the town of Banff. Sleeping Buffalo Mountain is a place sacred to the first nations people here. It's a place of power.
For 2 1/2 weeks, we studied movement, and gesture, and the subtleties of bringing inanimate objects to life. During this time, we were never allowed to use words to bring life to our subjects. No language to convey ideas and intentions and stories, other than the language of gesture, of movement, of focus and intent. It was magical. A little, a small part each evening, of our time, was spent actually creating puppets, and learning the mechanics of their construction. though I didn't manage to finish anything, I do have a few partly completed things to show for my time:

This is the first stage of a rod puppet, yet to be paper mache'd and painted. He's a little over a foot tall.
This one is a mask, used in exercises experimenting with spacial relationships and groupings. That's my hand behind it, for scale. 
This fellow has a ball and socket armature in his head and neck, with a rod in the back of his head, to enable it to pivot up, down and sideways, in a realistic way. The wooden rods at his sides are the beginnings of arms, with leather hinges at the elbows. He'll have the cloth body and arms of a small child. He is destined to be an infant philosopher, I think, and tells me he wants curly hair, and a twin sister. He's a rod puppet, so the central rod is how he is supported. There will be one or more rods to his hands (when he gets them) to enable his hands and arms to move realistically.
After 3 weeks away (at a very nice kennel), Maestro was extremely glad to be home. I felt the same way.
Back to teaching music lessons four days a week, running a boarding house / B&B, and finishing an online course in property management. And I wonder why I can't find time to finish the puppets.....?!
Thursday, February 4, 2016
post - Christmas in the Yukon
On a Christmas visit to to the Yukon, we stopped at Five Finger Rapids to let the dog stretch his legs. It was a beautiful day, very mild for the north, at +2C. This Raven spotted us stopping and came by for a visit. No doubt he was hoping we'd stopped for lunch. This was as close as he'd let us get before he took wing. 


