October Catch-Up: The Visit, The Books, and The Colours

 It's been a while, I know. Without any further ado, let's catch up.

1.  The Visit:  A couple of weeks ago, the lakehouse was a Vacation Destination for some of my blogfriends! First up was J, who I hadn't seen for over a decade. She arrived via Birchie and Doggo, who were kind enough to bring her and hang out for a while. I'm here to report that Doggo was both beautiful and beautifully behaved. Birchie stayed for dinner and almost ended up staying overnight, but the weather cleared, and she and Doggo were able to get on their way safely after dinner. The next day, Maya arrived. Neither J nor I had ever met her in person, and we were so happy that she made the trip. She brought a trove of thoughtful gifts, including something for each of my grandsons. The weather didn't cooperate for a boat ride, but we more than made up for it with great conversation, some flatbreads made with my pesto, and some very good wine. It was so wonderful to see her; we all wished she could have stayed longer, but she had some pressing matters that took her back home. 

J did end up getting a boat ride, albeit a chilly one. And she did get to see some of our gorgeous sunrises at the lake, like this one.

We decided to scoot on back to our primary home so that we could take J to our favourite restaurant for dinner and so that she could see where I live full time (including my cow kitchen). Happily, she was able to meet Jared and his family as well as Sam. Her visit seemed to fly by, and we both agreed that we shouldn't wait another 13 years to hang out together again. Also, she brought me some orgasmic chocolate truffles and a special bottle of Cabernet Franc made by (and signed by!) my Canadian husband, Andrzej.  Why do all my friends live so far away?

2. The Books:  Rick and I went to our local library's Book Sale, held in their warehouse. They were loosely organized by genre and a mix of paperback, hardback, and audiobooks on tape and CD. I picked up just two, Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel and The Dutch House by Ann Patchett, both in hardback and a dollar each. I finished up The Dutch House and found it to be pretty good, but then Maya said, "Isn't it basically Jane Eyre?" and I had to take an inordinate amount of time thinking about that. Did I get tricked into reading a retelling of a classic? You all know how I hate that. Anyway, while I was thinking more about that, I got a new book and read that one pretty quickly--May We Feed the King by Rebecca Perry. This book is on the short list for the 2026 Booker Prize. It's her first novel (and won the Waterstones Debut Fiction prize, too); she is already a prizewinning poet. Anyway, this novel made me feel very much the same way that Orbital by Samantha Harvey did. I was so impressed with the poetic writing and the themes in this story-within-a-story. Here is a short plot summary.  And here is a chapter I found particularly lovely (and yes, some chapters are this short). The "he" in this chapter is the very reluctant and much-burdened king.

I had to stop reading after this chapter for several minutes. The last sentence speaks so strongly to me; it describes perfectly the way I have felt so many times. It also brings to mind an assignment I used to give my poets in Creative Writing II, in which they had to write a poem about a colour--how it sounds, how it feels, how it smells, and how it tastes. I was inspired by a book of poetry given to me when I was in the hospital as a child. It's Hailstones and Halibut Bones by Mary O'Neill, and that assignment brought forth some of the most astonishing and evocative poems my students ever wrote.

3. The Colours:  This October's fall foliage display has been one of the most beautiful in my memory. I'm grateful that I've been able to take some neighbourhood walks, and the trees make each stroll almost a religious experience. We're a bit past peak now, but I snapped a few photos earlier this month. The streets in my neighbourhood are tree-lined, and each individual maple, oak, and hickory make me both happy and grateful. Here's a sample:

They're even more beautiful now. Communing with trees always makes me miss my father even while I remain deeply grateful for his Love Of Nature, which he passed on to me. 

I hope you've been having a serene and happy Autumn. Let's hope that we're all even moreso after 3 November. Please VOTE to make sure it happens!

Yarn And Blueberries

For about a month now, I have been trying to resume knitting as a hobby. My huge stash of yarn, needles, and other knitting accoutrement had been in a state of suspended animation, patiently waiting in the home office in various large baskets, project bags, on a closet shelf, and in a couple of drawers. Like many knitters, I became a sort of Eventual Project Hoarder, buying skeins that caught my eye, planning for their eventual use, and dreaming of the things they'd become. Knitting was a hobby I could enjoy everywhere and anytime, and I did for many years.

Because of my illness, it became increasingly difficult to knit. Not only did it create muscle aches and pains in my wrists, arms, and shoulders, I found myself struggling at times to remember certain stitches or particular skills. I felt frustrated, sad, and an immense sense of failure. A hobby should not feel like a chore or a test. I thought so fondly of the many hours I had spent knitting, creating, designing colourways, and the feeling of satisfaction when an item was finished. Additionally, I felt very keenly the money I'd spent on supplies--supplies which were now sitting unused. The sheer waste was crushing to me.

Finally, and with support from Rick, I made the decision to box it all up and find a home for it. All of it. Keeping it was simply another source of dismay and stress for me; I needed to get to a place of Acceptance and move on. It was much more difficult than I ever thought it would be. Just holding all the skeins and balls of gorgeous yarn as I put them into boxes felt like an admonition. But I knew it was the right thing to do, and I was doing it.

This morning, I called Wells Glen, a nearby senior residential facility. If the name sounds faintly familiar, it may be because that's where Tish went to live the last of her days.  It would seem that our saga has not yet ended. 

The young man who answered the phone at Wells Glen was delighted by my offer of knitting supplies. He checked with the activity director who said there were a great many knitters there, and she was excited to hear of my donation. "You're very kind," he said. "I'm so glad you thought of us." I told him we would be there shortly, and thanked him for his help.

Rick carried the huge boxes out to the car and we set off. I remembered the last time I had gone there on a mission to deliver a package for Tish that had languished on her porch for days and days. At that time, I was full of trepidation and sadness. This time, however, I felt energized and lightened. In a strange way, I sensed another circle closing, a glimmer of the power of Fate and the omniscience of the Universe. Instead of feeling grief or sadness, I felt resolution and serenity.

The same young man I had spoken to on the phone greeted me at the reception desk. He told me that he had only been working there for about a month. His eyes widened in surprise at the size of the boxes. He reiterated his gratitude and remarked again upon my kindness. "Please," I said. "I am so grateful that you could accept all this. It's doing me a huge favour. Thank you." We smiled and said goodbye. I went home and put other things on the shelf and in the drawers. I felt settled and happy. 

Sometimes in our lives, Struggles can become Victories. We can find Peace in our decisions when they are well-made and thoughtful. And we enrich our own lives when we consider others in Kindness. 

  

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In Which I Lament My Lack Of Suitable Staff

 

While Rick and I absolutely love our lakehouse and are so grateful for it, there are times when packing up stuff and getting ready to head down to it can feel, well, worky and a lot. Yes, we do have a basic pantry, and the fridge and freezer are stocked pretty well, but we still have to pack our own things for a weekend as well as some incidentals. Often, this involves fresh produce, any items we're replacing or restocking, wine, computers, and in Rick's case, any special tools he may need for a project. If we're having guests or family, that entails a LOT of planning and packing.

A recent Friday morning found me exhausted and sore from yet another night of poor sleep. I fed the blue jays and squirrels out front, tossed in some laundry, unloaded the dishwasher, took out the trash and recycling, and did a few other things all before 7 AM. About two hours later, Rick finally got up, and the following conversation ensued.

Scene opens in living room. Nance is stretched out in the recliner with the requisite bigass mug of decaf and her laptop open on her lap desk. Rick is silently perusing his newsfeed on the couch.

Nance:  (after several minutes) I have to tell you:  I don't feel like doing a single thing right now, or ever, really. 

Rick:  (barely glancing up) Then don't. We can just stay home this weekend. 

Nance:  No, I want to go. The idea of getting all that shit together is killing me, though. I mean, I have to go to the bathroom right now, and I don't even want to get up to do that.

Rick:  Yikes. It seems to me that you should want to take care of that.

Nance:  Why oh why can't I have a staff to do all of this for me? You know, like Molly Maids, but for this kind of stuff. I mean, I'd still direct and delegate--

Rick:  Hm. It really kinda sounds like you wouldn't. 

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