Dense Canadian Forest

About 35 years ago, my husband and I invested in a treatment centre for abused teens. It was located on 50 acres of scrub pine forest an hour or so west of Toronto. When we were looking into the opportunity, hubby and I tried to trek through the forest to explore the property. We thought it would be a good idea to at least walk the perimeter and see what we were purchasing. We made it about thirty feet.

You see, it wasn't just densely planted. Fallen trees, thick underbrush, and large areas of knee-deep swamp prevented us from making any progress. It was also disorienting, because once in amongst the trees, we couldn't see the sun, and we worried about walking in circles. Not to mention being eaten alive by mosquitoes. We gave up and turned back, and in the months we lived there, we never did manage to go any deeper into the forest than that. 

One day some men with rifles knocked on the door of our log cabin and told us to keep the kids inside, because they were going to hunt wolves on our property. Yes, wolves.

This was only 50 acres of new-growth forest, not old, within a short drive of Canada's biggest city. Canada has about 912,000,000 acres of forest (1,389,968 square miles). Most of it is just as impenetrable or more so, inaccessible by any roads. Stats Canada says 66% of Canadians live within 62 miles of the U.S. border on the south. There's a reason for that, and it's not just the black flies. 

My son used to live at the literal end of the road in northern Manitoba. Any intrepid people who live further north have to fly in, and the season and weather can isolate them completely for periods of time. Vast tracts of Canada are completely uninhabited, and in fact, there are parts of the country that haven't even been mapped yet. We can get an idea of what's there from satellite imagery, but no one has set foot there.

Lightning strikes can smoulder and fires can go underground and not show up until days or weeks later.

Just pointing out the scope of the fire-fighting problem.

Also pointing out how difficult a place this would be to invade or occupy. 

Heat Wave!

Today feels like 115 F. The silicone caulking around our home's windows is bubbling. Our air conditioner was working too hard and froze the coils, so a man is here now trying to get it working again. Just walking out to the back gate to let him in made my skin feel burnt. My husband cancelled band practice, because trying to play the bagpipes in this heat would be dangerous.

Tomorrow I head to Quebec, where apparently they're experiencing heavy rain and possible tornados. 

And this is really just the start of summer.

I sincerely want to sell everything I have and build a home into the side of a hill further north. Being mostly underground would mitigate the hot/cold temperature fluctuation, and it would protect us better from tornados. I'd like to be off the grid, too, or at least have better back-up when the power goes out. I think we're getting to the point where growing a garden outdoors won't be feasible anymore. It will need to be done in a climate-controlled building.

Rethinking My Pace and Space

I've been trying to pace myself a bit better this summer, dividing large chores into smaller ones and allowing myself to take a few days to do something that I used to push myself to do in one day. The heat is extreme in the late afternoon (the glue in our front door actually melted, and one of the highways buckled), so I've given myself permission to siesta. To swim. To go sit in the massage chairs at the gym. To eat salad and sandwiches instead of cooking, so I don't heat up the kitchen with the oven. I even bought yogurt this week instead of making it as I've done for years, because the idea of warming up the kitchen with the crockpot was off-putting.

As a result, I've given myself more writing time, which has been nice. But my husband and I have also been visiting more with neighbours, just sitting in the shade in the backyard and chatting. It's the first time we've really let ourselves take the time to do that, which is a shame. They're wonderful people, and we've been missing out.

I'm letting this heat-driven attitude spill over into other aspects of my life, too. Maybe things don't need 100% of my effort. Maybe it's okay to drop some activities and put less-important things aside. Maybe it's okay to just sit sometimes. I've come to this realization now and then throughout my life, but this heat is just reinforcing it now. The heat just sucks away all motivation and energy. 

It's also carried over into my stuff. We had to move the furniture to install new windows and doors this week, trying to weather-proof the house a bit better, and right now the rooms are bright and light and empty. And I like it. Maybe we won't move the furniture back in. Maybe the time has come to put it all on the curb and create more room to breathe. Less to clean. Room to stretch. I could see throwing out the couch and sitting on pillows on the floor. Using the coffee table as the dining table and getting rid of the massive square table (the whole family is only here a few times a year anyway -- we could improvise with folding tables for those times). Son #2 is heading to Korea for a year, and Son #1 will be in school downtown starting in the fall. We will have fewer people in the house. We're minus my beloved dog now, too. Maybe it's okay to live in an entirely empty house...

Except for the books, of course. There will always be books. Oh, and yarn and fabric. And, um, the guitar and banjo and bagpipes are non-negotiable. And my recipe boxes (yes, plural). And...

Okay so maybe not entirely empty. But more spacious. More bright. More open to possibility. I could use this heat wave as an opportunity to re-evaluate life more generally and make bigger changes.

A while ago, I wrote a book that talked about taking a closer look at our lived space and pace. Paring down to the essentials. Maybe now is the right time to dig that out and reread it and remember.

A Little Burst of Patriotism

I came across these words on Facebook this morning, and I believe they can apply to Canada as well as the U.S.

"Frederick Douglass spent his life insisting that loving America meant telling the truth about its past. He believed our founding principles were strong enough to withstand honesty. In fact, he believed they demanded it.

"That is real patriotism. Not pretending our country has never failed, nor erasing people from our history. And certainly not threatening exile against those who disagree. Patriotism is loving this country enough to insist it become what it has always promised to be." - Heather Delaney Reese

I came to Canada almost 37 years ago, having married a Canadian. I love my adopted home. It feels optimistic and friendly here, where you can rely on neighbours to dig you out in a snowstorm. The expansive beauty of nature is celebrated. We don't take ourselves or our politicians too seriously. My local members of parliament are accessible. I have the resources and safety nets I need to live my life in relative convenience and security. I fully acknowledge I live a privileged life I haven't earned and don't deserve, and I am still grateful for it.

I know we're not perfect. At times we're misguided or messy. We argue amongst ourselves, and it isn't comfortable to own the darker side of our history. But in general, I think we're trying to look it in the eye and fix what we can. We're grounded on a bedrock of moral principles we're (mostly) trying to safeguard. We believe in compassion and equality, inclusion and kindness. I'm recommitting to those principles myself in my own conduct. It's easy to sail along my own path and forget that not everyone around me has what they need, and I shouldn't be comfortable while they aren't.

To me, patriotism isn't flag-waving or grand-standing. It's not marching bands and military parades. It's picking up litter. Letting my neighbour merge into my lane. Voting. Reaching out to try to make life a little better for those around me.

A Sort of Hilarious Goof -- or -- The Best of Intentions Backfires

On Tuesday, my husband cleaned out the garage, and we put two unwanted doors out on the boulevard to see if anyone else could use them. We had purchased them years ago, but they ended up being the wrong size for what we had in mind, and we haven't found another place for them. We can't fit them in the car to go donate them anywhere, but often when we set items on the curb, people snatch them up, and it feels good knowing they found a new home.

The doors lay on the grass by the curb for two days. It was extremely hot and sunny, but I didn't think anything of it. Forgetting, of course, that the panels are made of glass. Remember as a kid starting fires or burning designs into wood with a magnifying glass? Well, when we finally brought the unclaimed doors back into the garage last night, I realized we had toasted the grass.

Son #3 suggested we repeat the process all over the lawn and turn it into an art installation.