Trade Deficits

Donald is upset that the U.S. is running a trade deficit with Canada. As far as I understand it, that means the U.S. is importing more than it's exporting. So is it that he wants Canada to buy more from the U.S.? He does realize, doesn't he, that Canada only has an 8th of the population the U.S. has and that our economy is small in comparison? The U.S. doesn't really have anything I want, personally. If the imbalance really bothers him, then why not have the U.S. buy less? Well, come to think of it, I suppose that's just what will happen when the tariffs are put in place. 

He also wants Canada to spend more on our military. While saying he wants to annex Canada. It's like breaking down the door and storming into someone's house to harangue them into spending more on dead bolts. Oh, and he wants us to buy those dead bolts from him.

I really need to stop watching the news. It's driving me crazy.

CBC News Clip

I just watched a CBC news clip of Prime Minister Trudeau in Halifax talking about the U.S.'s proposed tariffs against Canadian imports. In it, Trudeau says we shouldn't be making "our opponent's" arguments for him.

Not our ally. Our opponent. Did anyone else catch that?

Winter Arrives in Ontario!

Last year was a crazy-warm winter. My friend was out working in her yard in shorts and a tank top in February. This autumn has also been unseasonably warm, and I feared it would be a repeat of last winter. Just yesterday I wore a t-shirt to walk the dog through the woods. But this morning, there's a bite to the air, the sky is capped with gray clouds, and I saw about ten flakes of snow fall. Time to break out the woolly hat and sweatshirt (no coat required, yet) and make sure I have the snow shovel parked by the door. Visions of expanses of crunchy-cold snow and Christmas lights and baked apples. I love this time of year!

At the same time, I'm woefully aware of the descent of Seasonal Affective Disorder that is coming any day now. Something about the drop in light, the grayness of the air, sucks energy right out of me, and suddenly curling up by the fire is about all I can do. It's such a contrast to the joyful energy of autumn, when every moment is spent putting up food and working in the garden. I've seen a lot of Youtube videos about how to extend your gardening season, but it doesn't appeal to me. I've gotten my money's worth out of summer, and it's time to rest. Time to withdraw, dig out the stash of books, and hibernate. I know the depression is like a blanket, covering the surface, and will go away again eventually with the return of the light. But even with that, it can't smother the deep joy and contentment beneath it. Winter is a blessing, a time of recalibration and re-setting. And a great excuse for hot chocolate.

Kindness strikes again!

I'm up at the church for a few weeks with Brio, doing a little work and a lot of reading and writing. I was planning on only staying a week, but it turns out I'll be here the entire month. I keep the place fairly stocked up on canned goods, so I figured I'd survive a longer stay, if I didn't mind a full month without fresh vegetables.

Then Brio woke up with a sore back yesterday, walking all hunched over like a scared cat, his legs stiff as if his joints hurt. He wasn't whining, but I could see he was in distress and couldn't find a comfortable way to lie down. He has hurt his back in the past, due in general to age and over-exertion, but this time it looked pretty bad. I don't have a car when I'm here, but a friend came to the rescue and drove me into town to the vet, and also took me grocery shopping and to the hardware store while we were at it. We're home again, with pain killers and enough food to last us a while, so all will be well. So grateful for the kindness of neighbours!

You know, I've always fantasized about living on a remote homestead in splendid isolation, but the older I get, the more I see the value in community. Certainly needed to rely on it this week.

Thirty-Five Years in Canada

This week marks 35 years that I've been in Canada. I am more in love with the place than ever and don't regret for a moment coming here. I do miss my family and the mountains, but I feel in my bones this is the right place for me.

Since I'm no longer a U.S. citizen, I don't really have the right to an opinion when it comes to U.S. politics. I only want to say, I pray that -- no matter how things go in the elections this week -- people manage to find a way to be calm and civil. Kindness is everything.

I kind of forgot...

Years ago, I set up a print-on-demand storefront on Zazzle, uploaded some products, and promptly forgot all about it. I've updated some things and resurrected it, if anyone is interested in gifts for earth-lovers and handicrafters. (I don't control the pricing.)

Kristen's Zazzle Store

Trading

I grew a lot of sorghum this year, but it was the broomcorn kind that's too difficult to hull for human consumption. It was fun to grow (the tallest got to 11'8"), but likely not something I'll plant often. What to do with it all? I traded 5 litres of it to my new friend Erin for her chickens to eat, in exchange for fresh farm eggs.

I'm reading Jerome M. Segal's book Graceful Simplicity right now, and he talks a bit so far about trading -- time for money, money for stuff. He points out that in our inefficient society, "our very real and legitimate economic needs can be met only with high levels of income." He points out that simple living (a key interest of mine right now) isn't just about living with less. It's about enriching life in nonmaterial ways. But you can't get to that enriching part if you're so caught up in trying to meet your basic needs. 

I see this play out sometimes on those homesteading or Tiny House living shows and Youtube videos. You have to have a fair bit of money at the start to set yourself up for simple living, or at least gracious simple living. This differs from poverty, in that, with simple living, your needs are met (often with expensive solutions like solar panels), and with poverty, needs often aren't met. In the 18th and 19th centuries, only the wealthy or those with access to the patronage of the wealthy could play at being poor hermits. The only reason Thoreau could retreat to Walden Pond is because he was living on borrowed land and other people occasionally fed him, and he wasn't there for long.

I do like what Thoreau writes, though, about -- instead of trying to convince people to buy his baskets -- finding ways to make basket-selling unnecessary. I lost my job a couple of months ago, along with eight others on the same day, due to "restructuring." I'm taking my time thinking about what I want to do next and who I want to be for the last ---let's say third -- of my life. I don't want to jump back into the same desk job, the same hurly-burly and scampering and (it must be said) boredom I underwent for the last 35 years. I want to find a way to consume less, require less, so that I can do lower-paying but more fulfilling work. I do find it interesting that some of the most meaningful and soul-satisfying jobs in society pay the least. We value football players and bank CEOs more than we value those who serve the displaced and homeless or teach our children, if financial compensation is the measuring stick. 

So how do I live in such a way that I don't have to peddle my baskets? I don't know quite yet, but I have an inkling that Segal is onto something. I've written a book about simple living, which is coming out in January 2026, and losing my employment will force me to really put my own words into practice. We'll see how it goes! I don't know which way I'll leap, but it promises to be exciting.