All Good Things...God Save the King

 ...must come to an end. We know the truth of that saying but that doesn't make it any easier. Endings, changes, saying goodbye and letting go are all hard. This morning I tried to take in every minute, every sound, the slant of the sun , the breathing of our old dog, every breath I took and the feel of the September breeze during what is likely to be my last veranda morning time. I have always been sentimental over last time experiences. As a child I would stand in my classroom on the last day of school and mourn the passing of another year. I always approach  my last lake swim with ceremony and reverence. I tear up thinking of the last time I saw my oldest son alive, the last time I sat by my  mother and father's bedsides, the last time I visited my dear friend Paul. Life is full of last times. News coverage yesterday showed the Queen in her feeble, fragile state extending her hand to the new Prime Minister for the last time. I have no words of wisdom or comfort to offer except this; Enjoy each moment as if it were the last. I did that this morning and now I move on to the rest of my day anticipating my last lake swim later this afternoon. 

 

Labour Day

 All good works...The fruits of our labor. If you love what you do it won't feel like work. I am searching my mind for wisdom about work. All in a day's work. A woman's work is never done. Labour  day used to be such a big day for me. It was the last day of summer, the day before returning to a busy frantic September school schedule at work and at home. The day feels nothing like it used to but still holds the exhilaration of change, of possibility, of challenge and adventure along with the sadness of loosing the freedom and scope of summer. The air is crisper, the sky clearer and the breeze cooler. The day heralds the fall even though the calendar still professes summer. This labour day is different yet again. The house I find myself in is no longer mine. I am making the slow transition toward a new home. We will treasure the days of July and August and the days of September and October still ahead before the big move. What a gift they have been to this recovering soul . A new season of life, new chapters written in the ongoing story two kids began writing forty five years ago. The fruits of our labor are many, the lessons, challenges , joys and sorrows bountiful and rich. Harvest after planting and nurturing, dreams and disappointments. Our labour is not done and for that I am truly thankful. Our tasks change and our pace slows. We place our regrets aside and find confidence  and hope in a new vision. 

In The Thick of IT

 I just read back  an entry in which I was reflecting on the relaxing days of July and then went on to read about the challenge of facing August. Right on schedule I would say but in a mess never the less. This purging is hard. It is laborious, time consuming and fraught with emotional snares. I expected this but like some other challenges we expect, while in the thick of it, it feels overwhelming. I am trying my best to keep the end game in mind. I visualize my smaller space every day and attempt to take each task separately trying hard not to let the magnitude of it weigh me down. I spent a whole day just culling pictures , birthday, sympathy, retirement cards, my kids report cards, etc. At the same time I've emptied kitchen cupboards filling the kitchen table with excess glasses, mugs and dishes. I am packing boxes and shoving them in corners out of the way. The chaos and disarray is a mix of us moving out and Caleb and Jenna moving in. It is a transition and those are not easy. Last night as I was running out of steam I got caught up on what might seem like a simple decision to some, but a loaded one to me. Two papier mache rodents. Two dusty, crumbling well worn fixtures which have been a part of my office décor since giving up my classroom and becoming a full time author. A book project from many years ago brought proudly to school by an artistic little girl . She and her mom had crafted  a rat and a shrew(if I remember correctly) to depict characters from the book Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH . I could not just toss them in the garbage bag without some thought, some ceremony, some tears and reflection. They are still sitting waiting for my final declaration and I will let them go but not without some struggle. I am thankful that each glass, mug, and slip of paper does not hold as much emotion or require such attention. I must remind myself I am doing OK . I am moving forward. The transition will happen. In sharing this struggle last night I received lots of great advice. I will take it but in the end this process is mine to get through. So what if I get hung up a bit  in letting go of two faded rodents with missing eyes and brittle parts.

Double Digits Of August

 Twelve years ago yesterday I got a call from the president of the Writer's Federation of Nova Scotia to inform me of the results of my efforts  entering the  Young Adult category of  what was then called the Atlantic Writing Competition. I remember the date distinctly because minutes before answering the phone I had realized it was now the double digits of August and for the second time in thirty one years I wasn't concerning myself with the waning of summer days as I got myself geared up to go back to the classroom. I was retired and now a full time author ready to start my third book when the teachers went back in a couple of weeks. Upon reflecting on the date I also thought of what I'd been told when entering the Atlantic Writing Competition nine months ago. Winners would be announced in mid August. As I filled waterers and feeders for the chickens I thought of how I would be hearing about the results soon. I had spent a lot of my swimming time in July filling up on positive self talk and convincing myself that the book I'd taken a year off to write three years before would place somewhere in the top. I believed in the power of the book I'd written and the truth of the story it told. What joyous news to hear The Year Mrs. Montague Cried had won first place and the added comment that it had been a unanimous decision by the judges. I hadn't been wrong about the impact of Taylor's account of her year in grade Four with her teacher who was dealing with the profound grief of loosing her oldest son. My eyes tear up as I recall that year and all the years that have followed. And here I am  twelve years later waiting for copies of the tenth anniversary edition to be printed and for the story to be sent back out into the world. Through the open window I hear noises of an excavator beginning a driveway and the ground preparation for our new home. I spent the morning  tackling  another room of the house we built and raised our four children in which now belongs to Caleb and Jenna. I anticipate a writing retreat in Scotland and a much needed trip with my husband and many dear friends. Challenges, new beginnings, new adventures, change , growth and connection. This August is different than the one before and different than next  August will be but it holds promise and excitement and for this I am so grateful. I welcome the gifts the double digits of August bring.

My inventory of  my other eleven books as I wait for my first one to be re-released.

When August Comes

 It is an absolutely gorgeous morning. July has passed and I am truly grateful for each day it held and all the gifts it offered. Part of me wishes a finger could be snapped to bring everything in to place instantly but that is not the reality of any of this. This huge change is a process of acceptance and adaptation. July provided sunshine , lots of lake swims, head and heart preparation and time to absorb the blessings this home has given us over the years. I returned from a year in the city and have loved every day of being back  by stepping back and just taking in the beauty of each day. I have sat on the front veranda every morning and the back veranda later in the day soaking up the sights and sounds. The green hills, blue sky, cows, pigs, chickens , our beloved Disco, birdsong, and conversation. What a contrast from my solitary summer in the city last year. I had envisioned a more productive July filled with purging and disposing of years of living in this house but instead found myself just relaxing and reflecting. I know all the practical stuff will get done but I needed July to be exactly what it turned out to be. So now on to August. As a teacher August always meant getting ready to go back to school. Even though technically you were still on summer holidays your head was thinking school and there were things to attend to to make that transition. That is how this first day of August feels to me. We hope to ramp up the work of preparing the ground so that in October our new home can be delivered. The sale of the house is almost over the finish line and soon tackling the huge job of removing our belongings will happen. Caleb and Jenna will slowly make this house their home and we will move up the road. Patience, faith, determination, stamina, generosity, acceptance, courage, humor, communication and perseverance  are required as we face the days and weeks ahead. I look behind and see how far we have come and have confidence we can keep moving forward. Life comes in stages and increments and each brings challenges, doubts  and confusion. But beyond that each brings such joys and blessings. I am ready for August!

What This Day Gave Me

 The sun is setting. The cross breeze I feel through the two open windows has only a slight coolness but thankfully this is the least stifling room upstairs. After my evening swim I sat awhile on the front veranda and reflected on this day. It was a hot one. Many places are dealing with heat waves and our temperatures are high as well. I am so thankful for my lake and after a long hot day jumping in felt amazing. It was market day and despite my early morning reluctance to leave my bed I was blessed yet again with both return readers and new ones. I saw a woman approach my table and knew she looked familiar . This often happens and I quickly search my mind  for a name or memory of a previous interaction. When this lady spoke I knew the connection right away. Her Irish accent and the name she spoke took me right back to another day  years ago when I met her friend Georgie who was visiting from Ireland. I don't exactly remember which book Georgie bought but I remember I took one or two more to the Kingston store and met her a few days later as she was returning to Ireland and wanted more books. Several times since her friend has come and bought her my latest and sent them over to her. How amazing is that! I had one woman come up to my table today with all my books listed and the years they were published looking for two she was missing. I stood and caught up with several friends one of which was visiting Saint John for her 51st High School reunion. She found her way to the market to see me and get some books. We talked a long time but it did not feel long enough. I stood and talked to another dear friend about the huge task she has ahead of her as she prepares for her son's wedding. We too needed more chatting time. While talking I glimpsed a woman  I knew I should know , nodded hello and then spent the next while racking my brain to recall who she was and how I knew her. Overstimulated I call it and sometimes I feel like my brain freezes up. It can be somewhat exhausting especially in the heat. I do apologize to the people I forget or the mistakes I make in my muddled brain. Then instead of heading home to the lake and an afternoon nap Burton and I went with friends on a bit of a road trip to celebrate the life of a dear friend with her husband , her son and daughter, their partners and  Cindy and Terry's two beautiful granddaughters. Cindy lost her life a year ago March  and in this  Covid altered world we had never gathered with the loved ones she left behind. What a blessing it was to do that today. What a blessing and what a reminder of what really matters in this life. Take each day, show up and love the life you are blessed to be living. Love your people and give back the best you can. Jump in the lake and gaze at the open sky. Be thankful for the gifts of each day and close the day with a joyful heart even if tears are streaming down your cheeks. 

Time, Seasons , Passages

Time, seasons, passages. I have just come from a beautiful hilltop garden overlooking the river. A Flower service they call it and it takes me back to my childhood when we gathered in Grey's Mills. Tiny Daisy Parks and her tall husband Joe would arrive as would many others for the annual service to remember those who had gone before. As a child I did not grasp the depth of the day or the scope of the emotion and reverence. I thought Daisy and Joe to be ancient and I was a bit puzzled by whole concept of the Flower Service. I saw tears , heard laughter and stories and felt connection while at the same time feeling puzzled and bothered by having to spend a summer's afternoon at church. Why was this such a big deal to everyone? Time , seasons, passages. The familiar words of Ecclesiastes read this morning  resonated deeply as did the words of Kate's message. I was exactly where God meant for me to be and my soul received comfort.  I feel overwhelmed by it all but feel a deep peace, awe and reverence. I took myself to today's flower service and was gifted an hour in a stunningly beautiful place , the vast sky above me , words and music and beating hearts gathered near granite headstones and the wide ribbon of dark blue water in the distance. I gazed at the white steeple and looked around at my contemporaries, my elders,  children and teens and felt connection and belonging. I got in line to take a blossom from the bucket to place in the Bouquet of Remembrance. I silently spoke the names on my mother , my father , my oldest son and whispered the names  Devin and Dylan. I remembered and gave witness to those who have gone on before and to my own mortality. I sat and broke bread , laughed , told stories and  recalled what I witnessed  when Daisy and Joe and many others gathered together on those July days of my childhood. Time , Seasons , Passages, and our place in it all. I do believe I understand it better now.