A couple of big blows

 Snow, that is. My province has been hit hard this year.  We're still digging out from the St. Valentine's day storm, and we might find Cape Breton (in the eastern-most part of Nova Scotia) in May or June. There are still people trapped in their houses out there.

And it's bitter cold.

It's still cold enough, in fact, to make winter food like chili and soups and dumplings, but the sunny days make me want salads and barbecue and warmer things.

Ah, who am I kidding. I'd give a lot to see a robin or a crocus or anything growing free.

Groundhogs. Lousy liars.

crick in my neck

 I spent the whole weekend looking up!

Saturday evening was spent at the beach (Nova S has gorgeous beaches, both inland and Atlantic-Ocean-side) staring at the skies with a really nice group of people, looking for shooting stars. The company was fantastic, the food awesome, and the fire was great. And the scenery! The stars just go on **forever** out there. A patchwork of heavens.

It's easier to draw a deep breath out there, with the waves lapping the shore and stars streaking through the night. There was a moment when everything looked like a negative

Sunday was a different kind of look up - we had torrential thunderstorms, complete with pink jagged lightning and big old boomers. Rora, who has never met a storm she couldn't bark her indignation at, was in fine form. THEN we lost power, and everything...stopped. Bear woke me, muttering about checking the basement (we just had a very expensive experience with flooding and replacing things down there) and needless to say....I didn't sleep much after that.

But! dawn came. And now the day is sullen and grey, but warming. People are walking their dogs in shorts and the region is here, clipping the weeds that have grown in the cracks in the pavement. 

Happy Monday! It's going to be a great week, I can just feel it.

I should take my own parenting advice

 Anyone ever get a weird vibe about what might have been?  I was browsing through some of my Facebook feed and  spotted some (not mine) reunion pictures - and I went to bed thinking "what if..."

What if I'd married the serious boyfriend?

What if I'd married the boy next door?

What if I'd married the boy who was in love with me?

What if I still lived where I grew up?

Who would I be?

Welllll, the serious boyfriend is still a friend on Facebook, but we kinda don't share the same core political values and we're both quite outspoken. (AKA: there would be noisy fights at the Thanksgiving table) He's chosen a life I can't see myself living, although I think he has peace with it. 

 The boy next door - le sigh. I still sneak peeks at his profile every once in awhile just to see how he's doing. And I miss who he was, although I'm not sure we'd like each other if we just met now.

The boy who was in love with me - ahhh. He was (and still is!) a sweetie. His lovely wife and brilliant children do him credit. He is, of them all, the one who turned out the most like I thought he would - a creative, science-y career, a lovely life.

I'm really, truly afraid that if I hadn't uprooted everything and moved here I'd still be moribund, still stuck doing all the same old things - and never feeling the need to change.

I guess I gave myself roots and wings, and I soared.

No, seriously

 Uncle.

First this summer we had a cold snap, then huge roaring forest fires in several areas of the province, and last week we had flooding.

I'm afraid to ask when the locusts are going to arrive.

Today: the sun is out, bicyclists are whizzing past, there's a lovely breeze - it's a lovely, hot summers day. 

But there's a part of me that's afraid to see what tomorrows weather will bring.

small town, big lights

Right now I'm sitting on a car hood, watching a drive in movie. This in itself isn't spectacular (although with the scarcity of drive-ins, it kinda is) but I'm sitting on a car hood, watching The Lorax at the drive in movie at the school. 

My childrens' school is so conscious of the families nearby and what would draw us all together, that they began showing drive-in movies in the heart of our community - the school. 

(Literally - the screen is up on the building!)

There are no stars tonight - it's actually spitting a little, but for the families sitting in their cars and trucks it matters little - they're cozy, full of popcorn and nachos from the concession stand, and watching a movie.  Little ones curl in the backseats, pillowed heads just peeping up over the headrests, while the adults grin at the memories of Saturday nights spent at drive-ins when they were young.

The village school - this same place that's drawing families and the community as a whole together is on the review list. It's becoming harder and harder not to express my frustration with this.

But on nights like tonight, watching the delighted faces and hearing an owl far off in the woods? It doesn't seem to matter. This is good and lasting and making memories. This school is doing what schools all over the country should be doing - working hard to keep their communities  interested and involved. 

This is worth it. 

This is worth it.

shine less

I see her walking by and I wonder if she's seeing me.

No, she's not made eye contact or done a half-wave or any of the other furtive motions we make when you spy someone you're not sure about. Just the quick, quick of her heels clicking on the pavement and  the whoosh of the stroller in front of her. The child inside looks bored.  He's clutching what looks like a dirty doughnut (or it's a....dog toy?) and a sippy cup.  I only see him quickly, though, long enough to register his long eyelashes curling down on his cheeks, and then they turn the corner and are gone.

I put down my cup and lean in to talk to the man across from me, knowing that she'll be back. She walks the town every day, and where we sit is on the loop.

The coffee shop is busy, and smells like raisins and danish. When the front door opens, a blast of scent eddies out into the street and you can see passersby blink and smile, snorting in the sudden goodness. The bells tinkle on the door and the waitresses pour good coffee and chat about the weather and the local goings-on. It's a great place to see your neighbors and figure out what the latest scuttlebutt is. Or just people watch.

My companion is droning on about health care (on a bright sunny day like today it's hard to take dire statistics and Department of Health pseudo-scandals seriously, so I'm only half-paying attention) and I watch as the woman with the bright blonde hair approaches again, this time on the other side of the street. She stops in front of the post office, adjusts the still-sleeping boy's shirt, and turns the other corner, her hair flicking out like a metronome.

I've never asked why she walks - if she's running from (or to) something, if she's escaping demons or merely has a colicky babe.We've spoken, and we know each other's names, but we're not close enough to do anything more than wave or grin if we catch sight of each other. She appears then is gone again down the alley. Does she think about me and wonder why I would choose to stay so tethered to a chair? Why we're not all out wandering and exploring town? And I wonder - whose way is better?

hurry scurry, time will flurry

The end of the school year is always a bittersweet time. The kids are longing to get it all over with, but there's still that little part of them that doesn't really believe that it will ever end and is horrified when it does.
The school building itself must feel the excitement. (It does, after all, frankly hum in the air.)

This month is crazy at school. There is a bike rodeo and the release of small salmon that the kids have raised from eggs. (One class will also be setting monarch butterflies free.) There will be drive-in movies (see, I told you the village school was magical!) beginning this Saturday night, and a huge weekend camping trip for the older grades. There will be a beach day for all the students. (See, when you grow up near the ocean (and have fearless teachers) the whole school gets to go on field trips to the Atlantic.)

There will be a graduation held for our sixth graders and goodbyes to the vice-principal.

And then there will be silence. The doors will be locked, and for three months the only sounds will be from the community groups that use the building.

Kinda a shock to the old weathered school, but I like to think it dozes in the sunshine, waiting for fall to make it come alive again.

Waiting, happily, for the children.

Random, random, random

Damn, I love living here.

Spent the day carousing with my friend while B sawed huge trees down (yay for forestry!) and our children ran wild and free. They went swimming again (in May! Loons, all of them) and came home , happy and saturated with the joy of it all.

My friend and I are planning a Mothers Day event for the school, and so we've been sorting tea services, finding appropriate costumes, and finding props. (Hey, it can be hard to disguise a gym, especially without the benefits of crepe paper or the gentle blurring of dusk) so it'll be props. Props a'plenty. We're practically rummaging through attics, shouldering aside the elderly. "You don't mind if I borrow your precioussssssssssssssssss, do you?"

I kid, of course. But this 'do is going to be a very cool thing.

I'm watching a show on tv called ER Vets. Reality tv featuring sad, hurting animals that come in, are treated, and (mostly) bound off at the end, happy owners and doctors smiling  while they gambol off into the sunset.
My question is WHO are these owners that don't BLINK when the vet cocks her head and says 'I think he'll need an MRI then some Xrays, and maybe some exploratory surgery before we do that root canal.'

And (I swear) the people trip all over themselves to nod, nod, yes, yes, where do I sign, not at ALL huddling in the corner of the exam rooms weeping and caressing their Mastercards (which is probably where I'd be.)
Not that I don't love my pets. ('Cause I do.) But I love eating, too. And making house payments.

The school fight grinds on. grumble grumble grumble. This may be one of those things where waiting to see what happens next is hard but necessary. And I'm not a patient person.

I've been playing Words With Friends a lot lately. I may actually  gather up the nerve to challenge my grandfather to a game soon. (Maybe. Grandpa likes to play with words. And he's crafty.)

Told you this was random.....

helping the kids

I've told you about the village school.

 How it cemented my resolve to move here (I mean, come on! A tiny little school still running? Still open? Still happily and joyfully used?) I came from a land of BIG schools, of being one of four third grades, of never really having an identity in a large class. I looked at the schoolhouse and fell in love.

Here, there is instant recognition and a continuity of place. Here, the children are taught traditions and new technology - both roots and wings - while learning everything they need to excel in whatever they decide to do. Here, there is always love.

But here there isn't always money. Our beautiful and perpetually sunny breakfast program lady- the one that gives our children healthy, fresh choices to start their days with - entered a contest run by a local insurance company. Winning this could give our school a $500.00 cushion for morning bellies - and 500 dollars buys a lot of yogurt and cheerios, scrambled eggs and fresh fruit.

It's easy to enter. All you have to do is follow this link and like the picture.

That's it.

the link is here: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=360622940657050&set=a.354415057944505.99387.214517711934241&type=1&theater

Thank you so, so much.

traffic stop

I took the curve in front of the grocery too fast.

My mind was elsewhere, full of the daily hubbub, the usual go-here-go-there-are-we-getting-low-on-that that runs as background most busy days.

So I pulled out too fast. And stared, incredulously, as a telephone pole (was that there before?) was suddenly in my way, filling my vision.

I swallowed hard, feeling the echo of what-could-have-been deep in my chest, the THUD, the disjointedness of the moment, the sudden silence. Air bags? A screech of brakes? WHUMP and a disjointed did-I-do-that?-shit-I-did-that and an overwhelming desire to turn the clock back just a few minutes. The sheepishness of the crumpled car.

It seems the body does remember  - I've been in one car crash, and it was 24 (twenty-four???) years ago. This was visceral, deep and automatic.

Swallowing hard, I took my foot off the gas, and turned neatly past the pole.


I will never pull out of the grocery parking lot so quickly again.

lunch lady

Today is my day to fix lunch at the school.

 Peeling, chopping (because our kids get the freshest and the healthiest, and that involves prep) stirring. Soon I'll start laying out the plates. 23 today (I need to double check that, actually) but I'm spellbound by the view out of the kitchen windows.

 The playground is momentarily quiet, the grassy fields just beginning to hint at restless spring green, and waiting for soccer balls and chasing games through the nearby woods. The hum of lessons seeps through the corridor - a delighted cheer, a piping far away 'You got it! Now try the next one.' The secretary laughs in her office down the hall and there's someone in the bathroom taking a very long time to wash their hands.

 This school means everything to this place, and to these kids.

 How could anyone say that this place - this joyful, encouraging place - isn't worth keeping and isn't the best thing for our children? This is their home, their base, their breath.

 This is where every teacher knows every student and their parents)and can greet brothers and sisters not-yet-old-enough-to-attend by name. Where parents are welcome and volunteers smile when they see the kids.

 This school constantly tries to be different for their pupils - to make memories. There is a big fish-tank in the office fill of just-hatched salmon eggs (the kids will release them this spring into the river that flows through our village) and the kids come to stare all-agog and comment between classes. This school houses an offshoot public library, hosts pilates and other self-help groups, regularly invites in local authors to speak to the children, and was an award winning entry in the region-wide Community Christmas Decorating contest.

Later this week there will be a giant Easter Egg hunt on the grounds. Pre-schoolers are also invited, because this open-hearted school wouldn't leave out the small ones in the community. There will be sightings of the Easter Bunny and mysterious golden eggs. It will be a good time. Why would it be any other way?

This school, this cherished, lovely snug little school, is under review. Under threat of closure. And I say again, why?

Don't try and tell me this school isn't good enough for my children.  For our children.

Because it's better than good enough. For them, it's their world.

And that's better than enough.

the bunny dragon

Most of the time we call Bear's bus 'Dragon'. (Well, what would you call it? And it has an odd shaped vent on the side hood like a snarling mouth.) But for this week? It's name is Bunny.

I have no idea why. :)

sprung

Yesterday was scrumptious.

I can't really think of any other way to put it - summer temperatures in March??

The weather was talked about like juicy small-town gossip -
'Can you believe?' Shocked faces. 'No, I never...'

And then people would trail off and breathe deeply and shake their heads a little in disbelief.

Funny, isn't it? How an early spring or unseasonable temperatures lead to remarks about what's waiting in the wings, about what we're going to have to endure - as if this fine March day (it was warmer in Nova Scotia than in JAMAICA!!!) will have to be paid for with high winds and encroaching waters.

My poor little quince bush, though. It put out shoots and unfurled leaves like little waving flags to welcome spring and now we're supposed to have flurries by the end of the weekend.

My kids left for school in tshirts and sweatshirts and came home in shorts and tank tops. And suntan lotion.

In MARCH.

Big breaths in like cake, sweet and frothy and perfect, the birds and trees and everything greening and announcing that spring spring SPRING was here!

A day that made you glad to be alive.

 Just scrumptious.

the silver bells of whye*

I'm taking a quick break from putting the bulletin together on this blustery, wow-winter-really-is-here day. (it's cold and bitter and not at all what we've become accustomed to)

I'm not used to being here in the manse at this time of day anymore - it's light and bright and the school bus drops off kids right off on the corner.  There's a lot going on!

(The parents have decided to take their munchkins in warm cars - no homeward strolling  in this wind today.)

But yes, I haven't been here in the middle of the day in awhile and I can hear the church bells and they're lovely and pealing out over the wind and still joyfully ringing out

and still
and still??

It must be a wedding. Except who gets married on a Thursday at three pm? That must be a coooold wedding party. I started to feel sorry for the bride in her white dress, resolutely setting her teeth against the shivers that wanted to crawl up her spine and worry her knees, the groom, wishing he had a wool waistcoat instead of just a cummerbund, the flowergirl pulling at her skirts and sitting down to protect her ankles.

And then I remembered that the minister here is an avid gardener who loves windchimes.




*Why so worried, sisters why?  (Look it up, it's pretty. And kind of grim.But pretty, like the windchimes here)

{wink}

I love how the slightly mismatched windows of the old yeast factory wink in the morning sunlight.

ziteous maximus

I'm hiding behind my computer a bit today, a litle perplexed by the giant scab/dead skin patch on my chin where a rogue blemish lurked beneath the skin for awhile. Then I got impatient and rubbed at it, and now it looks like I've got some creative rug burn. Or something.

I'm forty, for pete's sakes. Why the acne now?? I thought I'd found a skin regime that would stop all this - this is my first breakout in three months, so I guess I can't complain, really...

Probably just couldn't compete with the news that the kids' school is on the review list. Again.

We've stopped this before. Clearly the odds are against us. But we have fire, and we have conviction.

And I have a zit. Damnit.

sitting on the side of the road

I ran out of gas today.

Really.

There was a little bit of spousal involvement (Honey? You are always welcome to take the car I'm going to take to work the next day if you pay attention to how much gas is left in it when you get home, m'kay?) but I can't kick too much - he's the one who came and rescued me.

It was beautiful there - I was close enough to the side of the road so I didn't have to worry about being smushed, and close enough that I could (sneakily) people-watch. It was a sunny afternoon, clear and crisp. (This would be an entirely different post had I spent the time waiting for Galahad wet and shivering.)
Instead, though, I spent the time watching the people on the outdoor track, how busy and industrious and happy they looked, like a gaggle of robins, and made out a mongo shopping list.

I'm beginning to enjoy my enforced car time - Tuesday night is C's judo night, and the studio is juuust far enough away that driving home is ridiculous, so I've gotten quite happy with a book and a coffee and the stillness of the night around me. (I saw the most gorgeous moonrise last week. It hung in the trees forever with a pumpkin-orange glow, and took my breath away every time I looked up.)

Life lately seems to be a lot of hurry. Sometimes it's nice to sit and sip and stare at the moon and do nothing.

out of season

The quince bush is confused by the harum-scarum winter we've been having ( or maybe not having would be more truthful) and is putting out tender new buds.

Buds. In late January. And they were pretty and new and breathtakingly sweet and a lovely harbinger of spring-yet-to-come

and it snowed this afternoon.

It was a quick storm, actually, threw first snow, then rain on the area then left, sullenly grumbling about coastal temperatures and tidal pulls, how inland there'd be woods and fields that would be fine dumping grounds, fine...then it blew itself gustily away and we were left with stillness.

Now the air is still and questioning and everything is crisp and hushed and waiting, somehow.

I know it's winter. I know.

*sigh* But I was rooting for those dainty little out-of-season quince buds.

i am lucky

I am lucky to have this Sunday.

Sunday around here means hot coffee, something yummy for breakfast - today, cheese eggs and bacon -  long deep draughts of fresh air and sunshine.

The woodstove roars as we plan walks and adventures for after church, our kitten-filled laps warm and purry and full of snuggles.

There is some out-loud reading. Barbie and the Princess School. An article from CNN.

The whole family kitted out in pyjamas and wool socks and laughing as we make plans for a sunny day.

Days like today, how could I want to be anywhere else??

literacy rocks

I did something I'd never thought of doing the other day.

I started a library.

Last summer, I contacted the local public library system here, and asked them if they'd be interested in setting up a branch in our village school. The mobile library is wildly popular around here, and pairing the books with a permanent home in our town's most easily recognizable and central building seemed perfect.

After many meetings and the forming of a committee and emails and some bated breath and waiting (not so good at waiting) our little Outreach Branch opened last night.We'll be housing the collection in our school library, in its own section, and it will be open to the public for a few hours each Wednesday night and Saturday morning. I applied for and received my own Village Library card last night - I'm thrilled and excited and have a feeling of this just being right.

I am so amazed and grateful to be part of the area I live in. And excited. Our school principal was enthusiastic about the idea from the beginning. We've had volunteers step forward to run it already.  I am so lucky to be around people that work for positive change.

And literacy? Rocks.