A Moment for Mom

Here I sit gazing out at the lush gardens from my perch in the kitchen-solarium. Victoria's four month spring is waining but it's new and fresh here in Stoney Creek where I am house-sitting for the next 2 weeks.

Sumptuous red, vibrant yellow, delicate pink and coral tulips, dance before me; mirrored in the reflecting pond, their flower faces turn joyously upwards towards the sun. Chickadees, sparrows, cardinals and blue jays dart in and about. Robins swoop onto the grass and the stone patio, hop, run, pause here and there to dig up fat worms and grubs. Squirrels, and chippies - cheek pouches stuffed full of peanuts in the shell - scamper back and forth from the feeding platform to their secret places.

Beyond the cedar hedge, crisp-white, clouds float in the distance providing a back drop for Birches and Maples; buds bursting. I think of the momma dove nestled deep in the eaves trough on the shady side of the house, only the tip of her tail and a wary eye give away her presence; no peeps have yet been voiced.

A flash of wings causes me to look up from my typing in time for me to witness the eagerly awaited arrival of the duck couple splashing down into the pond. They waste no time; feasting has begun. Bathing, frolicking, preening, then more feeding is the order of the day. He is very handsome with his electric blue head, white necklace and graphic, defined markings of white, and shades of brown and grey. She is a subtle beauty. Both glisten in the sun and bask in the sunlight for a moment before taking flight once more.

Through all of this my little charges, two "puppies"(actually sweet 9 year-old, toothless mini-Dachshunds) snooze, nuzzled together in the sun drenched window-well to my left.

Birdsong breaks through the full spectrum of sound emanating from the sound system. The soundtrack to this precious moment has been provided by Oysterband and now the smoky voice of Emilie-claire Barlow. Ah, I sing off key and chair dance with enthusiastic abandon.

Every time I sing I feel closer to Mom. She would have loved this moment and this spot. I hear her pitch-perfect singing, matching the attitude, nuances and song styling; swaying just a little to the beat as she goes about her chores. Now again she pauses, stands by the sink for a sip of coffee and a piece of Crispy Crunch bar cut into bite sized morsels.

Care of C & R, this one's for you Mom.

MARE-ZEE-DOATS

On Saturday I was reading through letters and short stories I'd written in the '70's and '80's and came across a piece called MOVING DAY in which I recounted launching into an unforeseen two and a half year venture as a house-sitter.

A synchronic event compels me to post this part of the story and here's why…

Yesterday I checked in to see what's been going on at AMAIA DREAMS' DREAM BOARDS as I'd been absent for quite a few months now. One of the members had started a new category called MAGICAL MOMENTS wherein she suggested we would, "have an ongoing thread where we could share positive things, like a moment of gratitude or delight over something or a little magical moment that made us smile."

I glanced through the comments on the first page and this one jumped out at me, "Mares eat oats, and does eat oats, and little lambs eat ivy." These are lyrics from the song Mairzy Doats written in 1944 and much loved by my Mom.

As I was reading my story I wondered whether it was worth posting in my blog.

And then I read the comment in MAGICAL MOMENTS so here is an excerpt.

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THE SET UP a summary -

A friend had helped me move out of the co-op house and took me to the house-sit. The owners were  out for the evening so we just dropped my belongings, stuffed into garbage bags, by the front door and headed out for dinner. When Sheib dropped me off, the house was in darkness and I had no idea where anything was. Basically I end up stumbling around, knocking things askew and swearing under my breath.

THE STORY from here -

"Shit!" I hop on my right foot, aiming all the while to grasp my left big toe with my left hand; the bags jostle on my back with a crinkling of plastic. The otherwise silent, still night is disturbed by the thumping of my feet and swearing. And then, giggling wafts down the hallway.

They're laughing at me. They're laying there in bed laughing at me, I am embarrassed by my clumsiness and lack of foresight to study the lay of the land before I'd headed out. No, they're not really laughing at me. They probably didn't even hear me come in. They're most likely having sex, sharing some sort of lovers' intimacy.

I'm just about to call out for some help with lighting when I trip over something at the bottom of the flight of stairs. As I try to keep from falling my hand hits a switch, turning on the light at the top of the stairway, welcoming me with its warm glow.

I trundle up the wooden stairs that creak with every footfall and make my way to "my" room.

Dropping the bags at the foot of the bed, fully clothed, I fall into its downy cushiness, falling into sleep moments later.

"Buckety coo, buckety coo…" the sounds of pigeons in the rafters above my head and the morning light streaming in wake me. I lay there, thrown back in time by the sound.

"No, they don't."

"Yes, they do. They sound exactly like that." And in a soft melodic voice my mother mimics, "Buckety coo, buckety coo. You just have to listen sometime. You'll hear it." She was telling me about her own childhood experience visiting an eccentric uncle who'd kept and trained carrier pigeons. Their chatter would waken her as she slept in a bedroom under the rafters of his home.

I thought she was pulling my leg. After all wasn't this the same woman who would sing, "Mare-zee-doats 'n doe-zee-doats 'n li'l lam-zee-die-vee. Kid-sel e-die-vee too woodn'-chew."

What the hell did that mean?

I think she sang it just to torment me until the day my ears finally deciphered, "Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy. Kids will eat ivy too. Wouldn't you?" and I smiled, delighted by the playfulness of words.

Laying here now, my ears confirm "buckety coo" as the official language of pigeon.

THE STORY CONTINUES ON FROM HERE

I had hoped to write a book (and make my fortune in the process) about my house-sitting misadventures; this was the opening chapter. Life happens while you're making other plans.

Leaving full of HOPE

SUITCASE DIARIES
DAY 7
Tues Aug 6

Hope to Victoria via TCH to Tsawwassen ferry terminal to Swatrz Bay #17 Pat Bay Hwy, TCH into Victoria and we're home in James Bay.

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I went for a one hour snooze at 9:30 p.m. last night and work up at 7:30 this morning.With the pressure of long drives behind us I "crashed". Today is an easy day. 2 hours to the ferry from here, 90 min ferry ride and then we intend to find a place in Sidney for the night. (As you can see by the itinerary we decided to motor on.)

Brekkie today at the Kan Yon Restaurant in downtown Hope is a little slice of small town life. I can't help but over hear conversation between 3 local people, casually sitting a few seats apart from each other at the snack bar, talking about: stem cell "beef", service providers Shaw vs Telus, local festivals and accomplished children (a psychologist and a photographer amongst the bunch). Maybe they know each other; maybe they don't. It's a typical Chinese Canadian establishment that you find in many a small towns on the road providing very satisfying homey fare.

Complimentary fortune cookies accompany our bill, as he cracks open his cookie Rod says, "Let's see what is has to say to us about the rest of our trip." He's been hanging around me too long. "Listening, not imitation, is the highest form of flattery."

Grinning from ear to ear I nod my approval. "I couldn't agree with that more!"

And mine reads, "The less one has to do, the less time one finds to do it in". Providing a little nod to the relativity of time in my quest for a slower pace.

Goin' down the road I glance back in the rear view mirror at the snow capped mountains fading in the distance as we head off to the delta plains and the Tsawwassen Bay ferry to Swatrz Bay on Vancouver Island. I smile knowing that these mountains will be our playground for the next few years.

Feeling upbeat on this sun filled day I choose to skip music selections that are beginning to repeat on my i-pod as well as: Spanish instruction, most new age and instrumental selections. Tony Bennett and Elvis Costello chime in on Are You Havin' Any Fun? followed by Blue Rodeo's Til I Am Myself Again. I laugh waiting in line for the ferry as Bill Cosby spins a tale of a "typical" visit to The Dentist and am awed by the multi-talented, story teller extraordinaire, Shel Silverstein weaving tales of mischievous delight and singing his composition of Silvia's Mother. I mimic the vocal stylings of: Nat King Cole, Mel "the velvet fog" Tormé, Frank Sinatra and Kenny Rankin. I wail along with Janis, Melissa Etheridge and Amanda Marshall, sounding just like them in my mind's ear. The Canadian contingent that appears today are: The Boomers, Rufus Wainright, Prairie Oyster, Paul Langille, Ladybird Sideshow and Sarah McLaughlin.

The ferry is the most appropriate ending for our epic journey. I'm returning to the island, this time with my little family. It's been heart warming to see the U-haul in the centre of every image along the way knowing that Rod's there and he's on a long awaited adventure of his own. He says he can't take it all in yet; it feels surreal. There's been too much to do and more yet to be done. But me, I'm already home. As we sit one the deck we decide that the day is young so why not head down to our apartment and settle in with sleeping bags and padding for bedding tonight to get a jump on the movers who will arrive tomorrow afternoon.

While Rod catches some zzz's inside I walk the decks for some needed exercise, soaking in the sun, salt sea air and reacquainting myself with the islands we pass along the way. I really feel I'm returning home; the passion I feel for this part of the country stirs me.

On one of my passes a man on the foredeck points to a small school of dolphins passing through the channel. I and a few others are fortunate to witness their presence.

"I like your feathers," he says. I'm wearing the feather earrings Marisa gifted to me and of course there's the feathers in the tattoo on my arm. He opens his shirt collar to reveal a small feather pendant. I express my appreciation for the beauty of this land and tell him that, "I'm moving from southern Ontario where there is little respect for the land to this place and people that honour it."

His manner of speech, subject of conversation and perspective lend him the air of a native elder as he speaks of the need not only to respect the land but to replace criticism and judgment with prayer that our leaders may have wisdom and be supported in their work and do better by the energy we send them. He speaks of liking, not liking and indifference. How challenging, but necessary, it is to send to one and all alike, healing positive energy.

What is there to learn from this situation? Today the card - Kahuna/expert - asked me to consider this and here it is.

The call to return to our cars to prepare for departure ends our conversation and I wish him well. He says as he presses his hand to mine, "You are a healer and will bring the energy here to what you do." I had told him nothing about myself. Time will tell.

As we disembark from the ferry and head down the road to Victoria, a bald eagle flies overhead leading  the way.

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We gave away all of our plants and then found Prickly Penis left alone in the corner so we had to bring him with us.
He was a real trouper. We gave him breaks now and again to catch some rays.
Let's hope he finds Victoria to his liking.

Our little place is perfect and Paul, the super welcomes us and orients us to our new digs in James Bay. At 8 p.m. Rod and I enjoy the freshest Pacific Halibut fish and chip dinner down at the wharf only a hop, skip and jump from our new "home".

People are peeing everywhere

SUITCASE DIARIES
Day 6
Calgary Alberta to Hope B.C. on the #1 Trans Canada Hwy, the 5 from Kamloops and back on to TCH into Hope
Leaving at 9 a.m. arriving at 7p.m. (time change - back one hour) roughly 9 hours driving time

NOTE the post dates were off by one day as I was entering them after midnight - sorry for confusion. This post date is correct as I've set it myself and I reset the others.

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We headed out from Calgary for the lavender foothills in the distance at 9a.m. with the sun at our backs.

As the mountains get nearer and nearer my excitement grows.

The playful cloud formations of the prairies: farting fish, benevolent Buddha hand, flying duck chasing leaping puppy, fire breathing dragon have given way to mystical ethereal fingers drawing whispy cloud carpets over the Rockies and I am moved.

This range conceals what lies beyond and I'm filled with anticipation as we approach, then pass through this portal. Engulfed by the peaks we disappear from where we came.

Although my heart knows this place it's like I've never been here before; my eyes are so wide open. When I was here before I was half asleep in my body, my mind and soul and to the presence of everything around me. Maybe part of the difference is that this time I'm driving, I'm no longer a passenger. I think I was a passenger in my own life back then.

The backdrop of soaring strings, and soulful horns intensifies the emotions of my passionate, breaking heart; breaking from the beauty and power of such majesty. If there is a more beautiful place on this earth it is impossible for me to comprehend right now. New age and classical music pours out of my i-pod as I drive for hours through these parks: Banff National Park, Jasper National Park, Kootenay National Park, Glacier National Park, Yoho National Park.

I love that I can see Rod driving through all of this with me.

I suggest you google these parks and images for pics. I was too engaged to take photos. None could possibly do them justice

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Rod: "There are people peeing everywhere over here."

Note to anyone driving through the park system of the TCH from east to west. It takes about 6 hours so ...IF YOU HAVE THE SLIGHTEST INKLING TO PEE, DO IT AT EVERY OPPORTUNITY. You will be lulled into a false sense of security for the first 3 hours as there are many pit stops provided along the way but after that - ha!

This is the view from "the pee spot" which was so popular.
Of course, just down the road were indoor washrooms but bladders were bursting.

READERS' WARNING: the following contains information that readers of the more sensitive sex, when it comes to matters of personal feminine hygiene, may find yucky (Rawbear, this means you especially!). You may want to skip to the next *  *  *

I'd finally seen a sign for an information building about 5km down the road but Rod, who was driving ahead of me, turned into an area where he saw other desperate souls pulled over and I, sheep-like, followed. I made my way into a relatively secluded spot, squatted and peed with the force of a fire hose. Problem is I didn't use the Whiz Kit; result, massive splash back as the pee hit the dry ground and a lovely pool formed around my right foot (fortunately I had a full bottle of water with which to clean off). This is one more advantage of the pee kit as I discovered at the next pee spot. Having mastered the standing pee, I was delighted with the stream that sprayed well out of my way leaving my feet dry. I will admit it feels a little dicey at first but it's soooo liberating!

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Of note this day coming out of the i-pod other than the lovely pieces that graced my way through the Rockies:
Satori, Natalie Merchant - Equestrienne, Xavier Rudd, Julaka - night street, Janis Joplin, Melissa Manchester, Amanda Marshall, Simply Red,
Canadians of note today - Prairie Oyster, Serena Ryder

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With the long drives behind us and a leisurely night ahead, no need to arise early, Rod and I enjoy a meal a local pub's outside porch. Salmon on a croissant and a garden salad with a Corona with lime are my reward. "We are in our home province now," I say to Rod. It feels right and I'm conscious of the barrier the Rockies provide between B.C. and the rest of Canada - it is no wonder that B.C.'ers feel like a separate entity.

Marathons of sorts

SUITCASE DIARIES
Day 3 Wawa to Dryden and a bit of Day 4 Dryden to Regina - both days took around 10 hours each (including stops)

Sat Day 4

Rod: "We're finally out of Ontario."
Me: "Yea!"
Rod: "How long did that take?"
Me: "About 27 years."

...no seriously we crossed from Ontario into Manitoba at 11:45 Sat morning, so it takes about 3 1/2 days to get to Manitoba from Burlington.

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The last 2 days have been cathartic thanks to the power of music.

Friday Day 3

From the moment I plugged in the i-pod and put it on shuffle the music oracle has worked her magic. Izzy Kamakawiwo'ole's sweet Hawaiian song greeted me on Friday morning, confirming that the road out of Ontario would be winding and rolling. But driving it wasn't as challenging as I expected. The most arduous "road" I've been travelling is the one within.

SINGING IN THE RAIN foretold of the cloudbursts that came and went with such force that the downpour looked white - just like the milk that was used in filming Gene Kelly's production number. Milky white raindrops gave the desired effect on the screen. And, I understand that Kelly was very much under the weather but was able to do the scene in one take. "The show must go on" mirrors KOKUA extra effort is needed this day, so my oracle cards tell me.

After a bite in a restaurant TONIGHT'S GONNA BE A GOOD NIGHT plays through the mall as I make my way to the truck helps me to trust that we will get to Dryden without incident; and we did.

Driving towards Dryden the sky becomes more expansive as the tree topped amethyst rock faces give way to scrubby, stunted trees and more rolling countryside. A dragon cloud breathes fire in the direction from where I've come. A little while later, as we step out from a restaurant across the way from the "super hero" motel a female bagpiper faces west and plays AMAZING GRACE. It is Friday night. In PORT ALBERT on the beach at Lake Huron other pipers are piping down the sun while they walk into the lake. Perhaps Flo and Jack are listening to their piper as I am now.

The sunsets on Lake Huron are spectacular and so it is this night. The sky is streaked with rose and lilac  clouds with a sliver of gold, glowing sky on the horizon. "Red sky at night sailor's delight." Does this apply to the prairies?

Peppered through the day's soundtrack were memory songs: "dancing" with my client Gail to Barry Manilow; singing along to Amanda Martinez in Spanish for my client Evelyn; my sister Candy kissing Peemee Como on the TVscreen; flying with Lucy, Kalani Jane and Karen; love songs that express how I feel about Rod...and so many more.

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Rod and I stop to pay tribute to Terry Fox at the memorial erected in his honour outside Thunder Bay where his Marathon of Hope (begun on April 12/80) ended in on Sept 1 of the same year . Every Canadian was profoundly moved by this young man, saddened by the return of his cancer and mourned his passing. He has inspired millions as you will see...



Steve Fonyo, another cancer sufferer and amputee completed his transcontinental run, the Journey for Lives, in 1985.

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More music oracle from Day 4 in tomorrow's entry...
Pee kit report - I peed by the side of the car today (Sat) in a gully with great success, thanks pee kit!

Car dancing from Wawa to Dryden

SUITCASE DIARIES
Day 3 - on the road from Wawa to Dryden via the #17.
Yes, we're STILL in Ontario.

Due to complications related to final matters regarding the sale of the house we didn't leave Wawa til 10 a.m. With the house matters finally behind us (2 days later than expected) long held tension drained out of me leaving my muscles like limp spaghetti yet my body and mind full of the ya yas as we set out for the 9 1/2 hour drive.

Being so much father up north and in a different time zone
we made Dryden just as it was getting dark thus avoiding the increased risk of hitting moose on the road
and. more importantly, staying here.

My remedy for the ya yas?

Crank up the tunes. Trip down memory lane. And, car dance like this.



I did take time to enjoy the fabulous vista as we made our way around Lake Superior, through Marathon and to the Terry Fox memorial in Thunder Bay. The scrubby trees and less stimulating scenery that I expected to find didn't appear til we made our way back to the 17 after the by pass around Thunder Bay.

I used the pee kit today; product review to come. That'll keep you glued to the blog I'm sure.

More about the trip itself later; gotta go to bed. Another long day tomorrow.