A Meandering Mann

When I learned how to drill holes in pebbles and stones a couple of years ago I knew I was hooked.  The idea of combining a love of searching and finding interesting stones on beaches with an end use, creating interesting and unusual items of bodily adornment was irresistible.  I had owned a Dremel for years and hardly used it, now it is a favourite tool.

The pebbles themselves each have their own story that began millennia before they were picked up on a beach by me, and the exploration of their origin has captured my imagination and curiosity.

The stones in these creations are from the shores of Lake Huron, specifically from Sauble Beach.  Sauble Beach is on the east side of Lake Huron and south of the Bruce Peninsula. It is the traditional land of the Saugeen Ojibway Nation, and slowly taken away from them in treaties that said that they “ceded” their land.  Ceded always sounded to me like a reluctant action, and I think it was, they were pushed into it, but the white settlers wanted more land and their needs were triumphant.

It is likely that many of you know Sauble Beach as a summer beach destination with great distances of sand for sunbathing, building sandcastles and generally having a carefree time.  Maybe you  have even had a summer holiday there.  I could tell from the stores that were closed for the season when I was there, that during the summer it is a very popular beach resort.  The stores were full of beach wear, beach toys, gifts and other memorabilia not to mention numerous food outlets.  Ice cream, hot dogs, cotton candy.  However, until the day I searched for pebbles there I had not stepped foot on it.  And the beach was full of amazing small, flat or slightly rounded pebbles for which the coast is renowned.

The first beach pebbles that I collected for drilling were from the Beaches area in Toronto near where I used to live.  I usually collected them in the winter when my dog could run around south of the snow fence as free as a bird, or at least a dog off leash.  I would bob my head between keeping an eye on her and searching the ground.  At the time I had this fantasy that the stones on the shores of Lake Ontario began their life way up along the chain of the Great Lakes.  That they were chunks of the Canadian Shield, which was formed during the Precambrian era which lasted until 570 million years ago.  Yes, lasted until 570 million years ago.  Very old rock which began as mountains and was worn down to what it is today, a shadow of its former self, by glaciers.

To go back to my fantasy, I imagined the stones being moved by the currents and worn away by rubbing against each other in the water and on the beach.  I imagined them flowing over Niagara Falls, traveling down in the swift current of the Niagara River, through the mighty whirlpool in the Niagara Gorge and coming to rest at my feet on the shore of Lake Ontario so that I could pick them up.  Sadly, this is probably not the case, but being eroded by water and friction against other stones is true.

Very likely the majority of the pebbles that I picked up on Sauble Beach began their life as part of much bigger rocks formed much more locally.  Sauble Beach is on the west side of the Niagara Escarpment that extends from Niagara Falls, to the tip of the Bruce Peninsula.  It arcs slightly east, getting quite close to Toronto as it travels north and then returns west to form the peninsula.  I find the stone formations of the escarpment quite fascinating, especially as it relates to Niagara Falls and how the falls are eroded.  However, I can’t talk about that here as it is not very relevant.  Maybe when I make pieces from pebbles from Georgian Bay.  But I digress. 

When the glaciers advanced, and hit the escarpment, instead of grinding them down they went up and over them.  Seems amazing to me that they went up and over as the glaciers can grind down granite and the escarpments rock layers are not nearly as strong as granite.  So the west side of the escarpment, the Huron slope, and the Huron fringe, including Sauble Beach have deposits left behind by retreating glaciers.  So my best guess is that the pebbles that I have made my pieces from are predominantly dolomite and granite, dumped by glaciers that retreated 17,000 years ago.  Now, I would love some wonderful geologist who knows this area well to come along and correct or supplement my knowledge.

All in all, I find it a very sobering thought that the pebbles that I pick up did not just appear overnight, but have a long, ancient really, past. I am picking up geological history without really giving it a thought.  It reminds me of my brother in law, Trevor, picking up a piece of ice in Iceland.  It had broken away from a glacier and landed on the shore.  As he picked it up he said “ancient ice”.  As I said, sobering, and very thought provoking.

Talking about the ancient history of the pebbles makes me think that my own process of creating wearable pieces is short and trivial, but it too has a story.  Little did I think when I got hooked on drilling pebbles and make wearable history, as I now think of it, what was involved.  Everything seems so simple at the beginning.  Get pebble, drill hole, make piece, present to the world.  Getting ready to present these creations to the world has been as complex as it was setting up my previous businesses, whether a massage therapy clinic or a massage therapy products company.  And it has been a challenge, and I must say a pleasure to do so.  Re-using the hands originally created for my massage therapy practice business card gives me a sentimental thrill.  Yes, business cards are still used, although brochures have been replaced by web sites.  So I have to have one of them.  Now I really thought that I had avoided the necessity of having a web site, but then again, I also remember looking through the window of the IBM store in the Royal Bank Plaza in downtown Toronto and looking at the desk top computers, $10,000 a pop, and thinking I would never need one of those.  Now I can’t tell you how many computers I have owned.

While pricing the pieces I used the same process using excel spread sheets to calculate the total cost of all the components and the time involved in every process.  Each pebble is washed, drilled, washed again, polished using a museum quality wax, and then assembled.  And of course the stones have a shape all their own.  It takes a lot of trying out combinations to get one that satisfies, that give me that feeling in my solar plexus that says yes, this is it.  After all that, and the piece is made, it has to be photographed and measured and written about.  I am still struggling with the photography, not a natural environment for me.  Then I had to think about how I was going to ship the items.  The boxes were finally ordered and are ready.  And I had not anticipated all of the minute details that goes into creating a web page.  The blog page had been set up professionally by Linn Farley Oyen in Toronto before I began my travels, but now it needed to be expanded for my creations to an outlet to release them to the world.  I have enjoyed the process, working with the multi-talented Kelly Laing, and by the time you are reading this it will be complete and launched, and when I have something new to offer I hope it will be a much simpler process to do so, and that I will be able to do it without having my hand held every step of the way.

Thinking about how the indigenous people of this area, the Saugeen Ojibway, were pushed onto and smaller amounts of land until there are now two small reservations and restricted fishing rights made me think about this in a larger context.  Here in Canada there was a concerted effort to kill indigenous people, and if not all of them, then their culture. The children were taken from their families where they lived a traditional lifestyle, trapping, fishing etc and put in residential schools, largely run by religious orders, forbidden to use their language.  They often did not see their families for many years, if they did not die at the school, so family life and traditions were completely disrupted.  In the sixties was the famous Sixties Scoop, where children were removed from their parents and adopted by non-indigenous families, against their or their families wills.  Horrific actions that have taken place in my lifetime.  So much damage.  Now, however, there is resurgence in first nations peoples reclaiming their language, traditions and culture and building on it.  The languages were almost lost, but now they are being spoken and taught again.  It made me think of my own original country, England and Great Britain and what is going on there.  Growing up, Gaelic was almost a lost language, almost treated as quaint.  Now it is thriving, and the Gaelic culture is being nurtured, taught and celebrated both in the original Gaelic countries, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, Isle of Man, Cornwall and Brittany, and in the diaspora.  Ireland has made Gaelic its second official language. The 2011 Canadian census found there were 7,195 speakers of “Gaelic languages”, 1,365 of them in Nova Scotia and Prince Edward island, mainly Scottish Gaelic.  Thank goodness for Wikipedia to be able to confirm knowledge that is vague in my brain. 

In Britain, successive successful invaders imposed their language and culture on the population.  It amuses me that we are called Anglo Saxon as the Angles probably came from the Angelne peninsula, part of the Jutland peninsula, today northeast Germany, Schleswig-Holstein.  And the Saxons came from the south Jutland peninsula, Westfalia, Lower Saxony. (https://about-history.com/history-of-the-saxons-and-angles/)

And that is only part of the British heritage, before the Angles and Saxons there were the Romans, and mixed in with this morass were the marauding Vikings, and the rule by the Danes.  And the final successful invasion, the Normans, from Normandy in 1066. Each invader imposing their own language and culture.  The winner takes all.  And who knows who I have forgotten, picts, for one, and Queen Boudicca, the Celtic queen of the Iceni tribe who tried to defeat the Romans.   There is a wonderful statue of her on her chariot across from the Houses of Parliament in London, but no postcards of her that I could find, only punks with mohawks. 

The Romans, I know, had a clever trick of relating a local god or goddess to one of their own.  They would give them a double name for a period of time, mollifying the locals, and then eventually dropping the local god.  So the Celtic goddess Sulis, of the hot springs in Bath, became Minerva over time.

So we Brits, and Europeans in general, are not of a single bloodline, we are mongrels, a common term for mixed breed dogs when I was growing up, from all over the world as people now immigrate from the four corners of the planet. How a round planet has four corners I am not sure. I have a suspicion that although there is some mixed blood in indigenous people and some European blood thrown in occasionally that they will have a much less mixed up genome than most Europeans. But I am not recommending 23 and me testing to find out. And I may be wrong.

Language and culture are important to us, and with the resurgence of both in Great Britain, there is a growing desire to break it apart. The Scottish people will probably have another referendum, there are rumblings in Wales, Ireland is getting antsy again. Soon it may not be Great Britain, but four different countries, and so history rolls into the future.

Phew, that was a long one. I hope you enjoy perusing my creations. 10% of the sales of these pieces will be donated to the following charities:

The Women’s Centre Grey Bruce Inc. https://www.thewomenscentre.org

David Suzuki Foundation   https://davidsuzuki.org/

Lions Foundation of Canada Dog Guides https://www.dogguides.com/

Doctors Without Borders https://www.doctorswithoutborders.org/

I will update the amounts donated as I make sales and send these pieces out into the world.

There are very few building taller than three stories in the old downtown area of Owen Sound. I live on the south end of main street, 2nd Ave E, the main business district is north of me, and as you can tell from the above picture it is largely buildings that are not very big. The streets and sidewalks are wide so there is a feeling of spaciousness when I walk downtown. A bit like Bloor Street West in Toronto. And it is easy to feel connected to the activities taking place in the town. Not long ago a subcontractor was tasked with stripping the old paint from all of the fire hydrants. (I would have wanted a really good mask for that job given how often my dog throws up his leg and pees on them.) Then they painted them grey and then back to yellow. I watched then do it over a series of weeks as I walked Tucker. When they were yellow again along came city workers and re-numbered them, and did something else that I had no previous knowledge of, they put a coloured disk on the side. One close to my house is blue. Of course I asked about it, and apparently it tells the fire department how strong the water flow is at that hydrant. Blue is strong flow. Amazing the coded messages we live beside and have no clue!

In Toronto all of that activity would have gone un-noticed by me, or largely so, lost in all of the other things happening on the streets. Noisy road repairs, pressure of traffic, house renovations, endless on Hastings Ave. Not that we don’t have those things here, but less so. Although I have been surprised by the number of sirens, maybe I am noticing them more because Tucker reacts and will howl along with them. But there is a Tim Hortons downtown that is known for drug dealing, and there have been an increase in overdoses during this plague. So if there is an ambulance in the Timmies parking lot it is likely that. Human sorrows are everywhere.

Close by my house is the Mill Dam, and alongside the dam is the fish ladder. Salmon returning from the ocean climb the ladder to spawn in the upper Sydenham River. During the height of the fish migration you can see the massed dark shape of the fish under the water and the fins breaking the surface. Quite a sight. Some of them attempted to try and get up the dammed area and wriggled ferociously to try and get to the top, but always to no avail. It was hard to watch them attempting it and being rebuffed by the force of the water, they tried so hard. A local group, I don’t know exactly who, yet, catch some of the fish and milk them for their eggs, and I guess sperm as well. Ok, I don’t know if the eggs are pre-fertilised. Another thing I have to learn.

The eggs are taken to a fish hatchery and released in the spring below the Mill Dam. The men identified the fish that they were catching as fish that they had released four years ago. They mark them in some way. You could tell how happy they were to see them returning. These pictures were taken on a sunny day, one day they were there in the pouring rain, we have had A LOT of rain. Dedicated men. The Mill Dam is to the left of my house on the bend of the river, as seen on the first picture above.

Most of the fish were able to go up the ladder un-molested, and it lasts for weeks, it is just beginning to taper off now. Then they will lower the level of the river above the Mill Dam for the winter. Not sure why, yet.

If I was surprised at the number of businesses that clear snow in the winter from people’s driveways here, it is nothing in comparison to my surprise at how many people here pay someone to look after their lawn in the summer. Never mind the broadleaf weed killer that produce immaculate lawns, but also the lawn cutting. I am sure it is a lot of the same people doing both things, snow and lawns, but there are a lot of property maintenance companies here.

Large cities, and Toronto is no exception, have huge numbers of cultural events, music venues of all kinds, art exhibits, theaters by the oodles. It is easy to feel that you are missing so much, and to feel overwhelmed by it all. What to do, what to do, how to choose. Here it easier to get the measure of what is going on. Of course all the choirs are on hold until this plague is more under control, and Summerfolk went online, pretty successfully, but there is live music outside the market from Wednesday to Friday for a few more weeks. We are pretty spoiled for choice here, but not too much that we feel like we are missing out if we choose A over B. As I like it, a city on a human scale, at least to my way of thinking.

Fall is in full swing here in Owen Sound, and I can’t resist including some pictures. These are my favourite colours in nature. Sad that they portend winter. Winter would be fine if it wasn’t so darn long.

I love getting to know the neighbourhood, the cafe’s, the library, the Tom Thompson Museum, The Roxy Theatre, the Saturday Farmers Market, now reopened. The Bruce Trail, kayaking (next summer), cross country skiing, snowshoeing. And it is all manageable.

I loved all the responses to my last post, many talking about creativity. It may look as though I am ranging wide and deep into various new mediums, but it is made very easy by attending organized workshops. The three hour (or so) workshops at the Georgian Bay Centre for the Arts are structured so that you follow their general directions based on the art or craft. It is structured so that you get a taste of the art or craft but do not have to commit to learning it in detail. That would be a much longer process as I am attempting with silversmithing. I feel as though I can dip my toes into many different things without committing. But always end up with a finished product

gbarts.ca has a selection of great fall workshops, and I may just take:

or

But there are many others that are tempting. Almost too much choice! Even for a town built on a human scale!

Yes, it happened to me. It began innocently enough on Sunday, April 19th. A tummy ache during the day, not usual for me, then diarrhea and throwing up late in the evening. Now my stomach has strict instructions to never throw up so I should have guessed that something was up. Thought I would be better in the morning, but I wasn’t. Thought I would be better as the day wore on, I wasn’t. Same goes for Tuesday when I really thought I should be over this tummy bug. My body had other ideas, throwing chills that had my teeth chattering and my arms and legs sooo cold while at the same time clutching a hotwater bottle and covered with my faithful old thermophore (moist heating pad) from my massage days. My friend Sue suggested the hospital on Tuesday night but it was so cold outside and I was in so much pain that I could not do it. So she ordered me there on Wednesday, and my downstairs neighbour Dianne called the ambulance.

So now I feel what it is like to be THE person whom the ambulance is sent to pick up. I felt that there was a Gladys Kravitz behind every curtain on the street. I have no idea why that bothered me. And I still felt that this should pass.

It didn’t. Into the belly of the Covid 19 beast, the hospital. The emergency room doctor ordered the relevant tests and by early evening it was irrefutably established that it was appendicitis and I had surgery around 10.30 pm. All praise to surgeons that can complete intricate operations late at night, probably after a full day. My brain is shut down by then, and my body tired. The appendix had burst and apparently it was quite a mess in there.

Recovery has been fairly smooth except one hiccup where I revisited emergency for a pain med adjustment and antibiotics. Recovery does include many many many visits to the bathroom, night sweats, exhaustion, oh, and of course, pain, but hopefully it is well under way.

At the beginning of the covid 19 lockdown, Leslie, Sue’s partner, asked if I could make her a scrub hat, which I set about doing. I was therefore interested to see what was happening inside the hospital in the various departments around PPE. I found out that each specific role in the hospital has their own PPE requirements, which makes sense. She is an emergency room doctor and they have to wear a mask that makes them look a little like Spiderman. The scrub hats come in handy when two buttons are sewn on them. The buttons hold the ear elastics for face masks, therefore relieving pressure on the ears, and stops the ears being pulled forward. If you wear glasses the ears being pulled forward means the glasses have to be adjusted to stay in place. So they are a practical and comfort thing. I saw every kind of scrub hat in all kinds of patterns in every department I was in. It was the radiographer that answered my question about PPE. It was not, you need to wear these coverings, it was very specific as to what kind of mask, eye covering etc for each job. Sadly, I know a nurse on a covid ward in the U.S. and they are issued one N95 mask per shift, and each patient has a gown next to their bed that the nurse uses to give care. Re-using a mask, who can go all shift, probably 12 hours, without food or water, and re-using a gown kind of defeats the whole point of PPE. Another downside of for profit healthcare.

I did notice my dreams were really interesting post surgery, and they intruded into my wake time. As I was reading my phone it would be surrounded by very shiny black ostrich feathers. If I closed my eyes I would be transported to elegant rooms or beautiful vistas. Story lines were intricate and interesting. Eventually as the effects of the anesthetic (that is what I think it was) began to wear off, when I closed my eyes rich fabrics would appear in front of me, a lovely side benefit to this experience.

First coming home had some funny twists. I was woken in the night by my right leg falling out of bed. I needing to pee and was drenched in sweat. And I could not move. I was pinned in place by Tucker, very comfortable between my legs. I called him to move, but he saw no good reason to. I was trapped in bed, and so began the great bed escape. Sue had fitted up a rope that I could use to pull myself up in order to get out of bed, so I groped around for that but I couldn’t find it. On went the light. I had to wriggle to get the rope, haul myself up, persuade the dog that he had to move and maneuver my legs over the side. Quite a process. Repeated many times, but without the dog as extra entertainment.

This whole covid lockdown event has me musing about all kinds of society divides, and I am sure gobs has already and more will be written about this. I am part of the stay at home masses. I am not working from home unless it is my own projects, I am not in healthcare, I am not a single mom working at a low wage but risky job dealing with the public such as a cashier at a grocery store, nor do I live in an apartment with a family and no balcony. I don’t live with an abuser (how I dread the statistics that will come out about domestic violence deaths). The nearest that I can think of my role is that of the society women of the Georgian and Victorian era. Think the women in Jane Austen novels. If you were rich you were expected to do nothing. Nothing. Unless it was one of the womanly arts, needlework, singing, dancing. I remember the character who played Mary on Downton Abbey being interviewed and saying that she would have gone mad with boredom due to the strictures on the life of a woman of her station.

I am so glad that I am retired. I have been speaking to colleagues and the pressure is on to put courses online. It is not a simple matter of taking the classroom lesson plan and plonk it on a delivery platform. Creating an effective, pedagogically sound course with effective and fair evaluations takes a lot of time and a lot of thinking outside the box, not to mention learning how the delivery platform performs. And that is what my colleagues are being asked to do, double quick time. They will be doing it without expert help for the most part, so trying to re-invent the wheel without much support. So sorry for all you teachers who are going to be doing this over the summer, you have my deepest respect and sympathy

Last but not least, this has to be in this blog because it is about snow, and it is almost May. Snow clearing in Owen Sound is quite an industry. Walking Tucker on residential streets after a snow storm it was quite usual to see three or so different companies out with their trucks and trailers clearing the driveways of different houses. Then they load up their snow blowers and off to the next customer. My snow clearer marked the edge of my drive way with plain stakes, but some use them as advertising tools.

I was surprised to see that no one cleared their sidewalks, a big no no in Toronto. But after a few days, or a week, then along comes the city sidewalk snow plow and plows on through. My street is done early as I am on the main road.

And finally, the city goes around in the fall and add a pole to each fire hydrant so that it can be seen even when there is deep snow. I know I have a picture, but I can’t find it. It is somewhere deep between the videos and humorous pictures now taking up space in my photo albums!

If the wheel of the bus represents our world, we ourselves would be the hub at the center of it, and the structures in our lives would be the spokes. This is a concept that my friend Sandra talked about during her recent visit with me. As usual, I was drinking up her amazing insights and practical approaches to life’s challenges. We had a short visit slipped in before social distancing was strongly mandated. The irony is not lost on me, as I am sure it is not lost on you, that we live in a time where many people are already socially isolated and many programs have been set up to counter act it. In fact, the UK created a Minister for Loneliness not that long ago. A good idea, but something that would have seemed more normal in a Harry Potter book rather than stiff upper lip Britain. But it is real, and this is a real problem.

Now the powers that be have just done a complete turn around. Social distancing is a must to prevent the spread of COVID 19.

What are the spokes in your life, the structures that support your wellbeing and for many, your mental health? Mine were just beginning to grow here in Owen Sound, and this week they were to blossom some more, lectures at the Grey Roots Museum, and last week I went to a book club at the library. So what to do, what do we all do?

So how do we maintain or support those structures in this new era when we can not actually get out of the house to go to the gym, get together and knit, go to work, go out for a meal? I think it is important for us to keep connected in other ways. So here I am, writing this blog. One of the things that I really enjoyed about writing the blog during my year away was its call and response nature. Something in what I wrote would strike a cord with someone and they would comment on it. Sometimes as a comment on the blog and sometimes as a private email. It was a great way of staying in touch, and of keeping me in touch with important people in my life, with some of the spokes of my wheel that were not actually on my year away with me but were still important. So I am hoping that it can be that again. We are all isolated (except those providing services out there keeping us fed, secure and healthy, thank you) but we do have each other. So my goal is to stay in touch with as many people as I can during this time. In no small part to keep my motivation up. I have joked to friends recently, during the last dregs of winter, that I had to go and look for my motivation because I couldn’t find it. So part of my communications will be to see what you have been doing, and tell you what I have been doing.

Going back to that concept of motivation, Sandra and I talked a lot about structure. It is so much easier to get moving, to get to work, to the gym, to choir practice if it is a structured part of the day. No structure can equal no motivation. So what is your structure? Mine is not really in place yet, and when it does happen it has to have some physical activity on it. How I loved going to classes at the gym. The teacher told me what to do and I passed that message on to my body which did it to its best ability. And it was getting better at it. I don’t want to loose that. So here goes, time to build structure.

My day

Walk Tucker

Breakfast and write down one or two things that I want to accomplish that day from my to do list.

Do something physical. Yoga, tai chi. Perhaps a swing fit class from Joo Lee. She teaches in Durham, UK and I loved her classes. I have to make myself do this even though I will feel a bit self-conscious doing in my living room by myself.

Lunch

Do the tasks on my to do list

Walk Tucker

Dinner and relax.

So, my call to action at the end of this blog, contact me. I would love it, and I need it, we need it!

It is a beautiful sunny day here in Owen Sound, but the temperature is hovering at 0C and there is a distinct nip in the air from a slight breeze. And the world is gripped in a pandemic that is even touching the lives of those of us who live in this somewhat remote town. On Saturday I took my weekend guests to experience the long established Owen Sound market and it was closed to help prevent the spread of the Covid 19 virus. So we had to go the Zehrs, the big supermarket in town to buy food for dinner. I don’t quite get the logic of that even if I understand the principle!

Saturday, on the cusp of perhaps a complete shut down of Ontario, was a new first for my life here. I hosted my first workshop, about fermenting food. It was lead by my friend Sara and I hope she adopts the name we came up with when we were first cooking up this idea, yes pun intended. Sara’s Gutsy Stuff. She designed an amazing poster (she used to be my graphic designer for Beaches Therapeutics and Plant Life). This is a new venture for her, and if you want your very own workshop, let me know and I will pass on your name !

The workshop took place at my dining room table, just a few people, and everyone went home with fermenting kit full of delicious food that will ferment and be ready in a week. And it marked the first of what I hope will be many more workshops on a whole lot of topics. It has been a bit of a winding road to get here, and more will be put on hold for a bit, but you will hear about them as they evolve.

One of the reasons I bought this house was for the one and a half story garage. I dreamed of turning it into a workshop and studio space where I could do leather work, jewellery, felting, both upstairs and downstairs.

Well, that long held dream was demolished in less than an hour this winter by being told that the footings were basically non-existent in a great deal of the garage. I have to admit, it never even crossed my mind to check them! It is a brick garage and I automatically thought that it would be solid. Apparently not. The second person who looked at it reluctantly agreed. He said that he would always prefer to use an existing building rather than build a new one, but it couldn’t be done. After discussing the cost of pulling it down, having the rubbish hauled away and rebuilding I said I had one other idea. Enclose the back porch.

He immediately thought this was a much better idea, but I had to obtain a permission for a minor variance from the city of Owen Sound. Then I had to wait until the neighbours decided to object to the enclosure or not. They didn’t, thank goodness. Every neighbour within 60 meters of my property had a say, that extends to the far side of the road behind me! So now a permit can be obtained and when the builder is free, shortly I hope, it can be built. Assuming of course that I can afford it now that my investments, along with everyone elses, have tanked because of the panic caused by this darn virus.

I have started thinking of settling into my new home as a combination of peeling an onion, and log jams. The peeling the onion consisted of dealing with boxes of belongings, such as my kitchen at the very beginning, or sorting and finding places for my clothes. The log jams are when I can not proceed with a project until other things are cleared away. Some things have been moved multiple times, and I am trying to avoid doing that any more until the deck is enclosed and things can finally find their place. The last major log jam. At the moment I have cream (body and face etc) supplies in my bedroom and jewellery, sewing, knitting and felting in my living room. Along with boxes of old electronics, computer stuff, old ipods and speakers, old modems and routers and old cords. I seem to be immobilized by them!

Anyone who enjoys dealing with the detritus of moving please stand up. I am down to the last dregs of sorting my “stuff” and in some ways it is the most difficult for me to deal with. Where does that basket, piece of paper, electronic cable live? What is the vessel that holds all those important business cards that you pick up that you think will help with this or that in the future?

At last, my home really began taking shape when when the pictures were put up. It was a daunting task for me sooo….. I invited friends to help. My cousin Cathy and I opened all the boxes that held the pictures and made a list. That night I had a dinner. Cathy numbered the walls and guests were asked to put wall numbers next to the paintings on the list. Lots of great ideas were sparked, and the next day we put a great deal of them up, especially in the living room. Then the next day after that Cathy and I drove to Brampton and picked up the new man in my life, Little Mann Tucker.

An Owen Sound Curiosity

Originally all of the streets in Owen Sound had names, not numbers. 2nd Ave E where I live was originally Poullet St. It says so on the lot number on my survey, as well as moulded into the sidewalk downtown. Now there are numbers, Streets and Avenues. I live on 2nd Ave E, but it is a street that runs north and south. I assumed that at some point it joined up with 2nd Ave W. But it doesn’t. Very off. It was very confusing to follow directions until it was explained to me that 2nd Ave E is the second avenue east of the Sydenham River. And there is a 3rd, and 4th and 5th Avenue going up the east side of the river valley. Equally, there are avenues going up the west side of the river valley. Now we come to the streets. The streets start at the south end of the town, just as they do in New York, and work their way north, but again, there are twists. There is a 10th street east and 10th street west and yes they do meet, on the bridge over the river. That part is easy. But what if a street does not go all the way from one avenue to another? Well then it will be called, for example, 10th St A E, and if there are two streets that do not go all the way through next to each other the second will be 10 St B E. The next street that goes all the way through will be 11th St E. You have to admit, it certainly is original! I can only imagine the comments and language at city hall when Councillors discussed this. How did they even explain it so that everyone understood, and what was the reasoning for thinking this was going to be easier than names. It may even be interesting to see how close the vote was and who the personalities were that were involved.

Well, the Y is closed, the library is closed, the museums are closed, eating out is discouraged. I may have to resort to more blogs during this social distancing! I hope you stay well.

On Halloween, 2018 I closed my house sale in Toronto and moved out, and on Halloween 2019 I spent the first night in my new home in Owen Sound. Interesting coincidence. Sadly for the kids here it was an awful night, rain, rain and more rain with wind thrown in for good measure. Not much fun going around to neighbours dressed up in costumes that have been planned for weeks and are now completely covered with rain gear. My downstairs neighbour Dianne and friends gamely waited outside to hand out candys while I made my first dinner, two batches of soup. We had to eat it out of mugs as the bowls were still packed. A good housewarming, but loads of candy left. Have to get that out of the house.

The next day I overheard someone comment that it was too bad that Halloween had to be at the end of October. A good question, that got me musing. About quarter days and cross quarter days, and how traditions get layered, one on top of the other, but often (always?) going back to the cycle of the earths journey around the sun each year. I love Winter Solstice, on or about December 21st, because it marks the shortest day of the year. It is a quarter day. From then on, to Summer Solstice, the days get longer. Of course Summer Solstice makes me sad because we loose daylight, ever so slightly, til Winter Solstice. When the days are perfectly balanced with night are the Equinoxes, on or about March 21st and September 21st. Okay, okay, you are probably saying, I know all this. But what about those cross quarter days? February 1st, May 1st, August 1st and November 1st, the dates that correspond to what some traditions consider the more important festivals, the Fire Festivals between the Solstices and Equinoxes. In North Western Europe the Celts certainly recognized them, and the Druids knew all about the cycle of the year, think of the June 21 st celebrations at Stonehenge when the sun rises over the Heel stone. The cross quarter days have various names but commonly recognized ones are Imbolc, February 1st, Beltane, May 1st Lammas, August 1, and Samhain, November 1st. Christians took some of the quarter and cross quarter days to celebrate their own festivals. Christmas is on top of the Winter Solstice, and Easter is close by Spring Equinox, and Samhain is All Saints Day or All Hallows to name a few.

Beltane, May 1st, was the licentious one. Unwed people could couple up that night around the Beltane fire and begin a trial marriage. No wonder the Puritans banned dancing around the Maypole, and how did it become a day for military parades in Russia?

Samhain, November 1st, marking the end of summer, and possibly the end of the Celtic year, became associated with burial grounds, and under the Christian calendar All Hallows, so October 31st was All Hallows Eve, Halloween. So sorry kids, you have to collect free candy in dicey weather, it can’t be any other day.

I could go on about this for quite a bit more as I find it very interesting, but will leave it by saying that the February cross quarter day is now celebrated as Groundhog day in North America. The layering goes on.

What a lot happened between those two Halloweens, and a big and important part of it was setting up meeting points, coordinating drop off points, driving the boat to those connection points. You get the picture. And right in my Bailiwick, my comfort zone, I love that challenge. Then there was the planning of what to take to England and Italy for winter on a boat, and summer in a very hot city, with a quick switch over between. (And who knew you could collect so much stuff in one year that I would need to ship 4 boxes home?)

For over a year I have been very goal or date driven. The foot has been pretty well pressed down on the gas, and although I was looking forward to taking a breathe it felt a bit strange when it happened, when the accelerator eased up. It didn’t happen until after everything was moved into my new home.

After all, I had to choose paint colours in a hurry, and get the place ready for the painter to start. I had to get a new cell, get the internet connected, join the library, join the YWCA, get movers at the last minute, right at the end of the month.

And then it was done, I was moved in.

Yikes. No deadlines, no foot on the accelerator, just unpacking.

And more unpacking. I felt lost. My full time job was finding a new home for all my possessions, whether they wanted a home or not, or even if I didn’t have a clue what to do with them. But luckily life is intervening. Dates are being made for doctors, dentists, accountants, financial advisors, all that important stuff, and to see friends and catch up. How quickly the time begins to get taken up. Aquafit, gym orientations, contra dancing, dog walking. Of course I had to visit Zoey’s grave.

I had a really good cry, but the walk up the hill to where she is through the fall colours reminded me of what I love about Ontario at this time of year.

and there is some semblance of sanity in my home, although I am leaving it for the weekend to catch up with friends, oh, and pick up those boxes.

P.S. Those light fixtures have got to go.

The most time consuming part of creating a posting is choosing the pictures. I get lost in reviewing them to choose the ones that I want to use and what I want to say about them. Today was no exception as this blog is the last from Europe. I fly home to Canada on October 16th, just the day after tomorrow.

Things I will miss include, and not in order of importance:

All the taxes being included in the price that you see on the menu or on the shelf in a grocery store, or on a piece of clothing. This applies to the UK and Italy. What a treat to not have to stop and calculate how much tax you need to add to the item you are buying, or to your division of the bill in a restaurant.

How close things are, relatively speaking, in Europe. And how much easier it is to use public transport to get around. Trains connect towns and cities efficiently and quickly. I have “popped” up to London at least three times on this trip, and this last weekend we “popped” down to Jane and Martin’s home to celebrate Ruben’s 2nd birthday.

In Italy trains took me and various guests to Venice, Lucca, Modena and San Gimignano quickly, efficiently, and in comfort. A bit more space than British trains.

I will miss having access to all the leather, sewing machines, sciving machines, leather splitter, findings and structural fabrics, mentorship and so much more at the Scuolo del Cuoio. Choosing what are the most important things to begin with in my own workshop will be an interesting process.

Just to round things out I took another weekend course in England, just a few miles away from where Sally lives. It was a completely different style of leather work where we dyed our leather and hand stitched the bag.

I found the course on a website called www.craftcourses.com What an amazing resource. You put in your postal code and it gives you a list of course of all kinds that are offered in your area. From blacksmithing to leather work to who knows what. This country has a dense enough population that a website of this sort is viable. What a resource, both as an artisan offering courses and for participants. I wish we had a similar one in Ontario.

Above are silver rings that Sally and I made at the Glamorous Owl in Newcastle. A workshop gift from friends for her 60th birthday that I got to enjoy as well. Mine is on the left, a herringbone finish, and Sally’s is hammered.

It goes without saying that I will miss being close to my family. I thought I may see Ruben once while here but it has turned out that I have seen him frequently, and what a treat that has been. He is a lovely, happy, sweet natured little boy, but I am tremendously biased. It has been lovely to see people frequently and be a more continuous part of the fabric of their lives.

Things I will not miss, in no particular order:

Florence in July and August. My brother in law Trevor called the heat scorchio, and he was right. I felt like I was being slowly roasted when I was in direct sunlight. What a relief it was when the temperatures cooled down in September and I could really explore Florence without discomfort. My early visitors were real troopers, but Sara, Gayle and Katherine all planned their dates well. It was lovely to get out of Florence with Katherine and visit San Gimignano, a hill top town close by. The views were amazing, and it was lovely to rest my eyes on the far distance. In Florence the streets are narrow and the town is relatively flat so there are no views unless you climb towers or hills slightly out of town.

There were few ways for the rich merchants of San Gimignano to show their wealth when the town was at it’s most successful. As space was limited to build big impressive houses, they built up. They built towers above their houses. At one point there were 72 (or so). They had no function except to demonstrate wealth. Amazing.

Winding alleyways, wonderful views, great restaurants and treacherous sloping sidewalks (when it rains, which it did while we were there,) in San Gimignano.

I missed main course salads. England, and strangely, Italy do not offer a good selection of salads that constitute a main course. In fact, I could say that the main course salad in the UK is almost non-existent. Traditional Italian restaurants, which means most of them, do not have a tradition of salads as a main course. Usually the only real choice was a Calabrese salad. So after pub meals in England and pasta and gelato in Italy, back to Weight Watchers I go. Sigh

I will not miss copper coins.

All in all it has been everything I wanted it to be, and of course there were many things that I could not have anticipated, such as the extra visits with Ruben, or participating in the People’s Vote along with 1,000,000 others, doing Swingfit, and Pilates and meeting great new friends at Sally’s and Jane’s.

Of course I new that people were going to visit me both on board Little Star and in Florence, and I continue to be delighted and honoured that they chose to do that but the reality was so much more fun than the anticipation. Thank you everyone for making my adventure so much MORE.

I think I will end this now before I become maudlin. See you in Owen Sound!