Kindness

Yesterday my Bishop, his wife, my Ministering Sister, and Sons 2 and 3 spent a chunk of their day helping my husband and I load all the cut brush and yard waste into a dump truck to have hauled away. It would have taken us hours if they hadn't come to help. What could have been a terrible chore became a fun event, followed by ice cream. Even the man driving the truck went from groaning at the size of the pile and muttering about having to increase his fee to laughing and joking, when he saw all the helping hands. Not only helping, but cheerful. In what other church would you find your Bishop giving up his one free day to help dig out stumps? If nothing else, Mormons know how to work.

I now have a clear yard, no stumps, half the hedge to have to manage, and lots of space to think about landscaping. Not sure what we'll do in the new empty places, but it needs to be something low maintenance.

Feeling a bit rickety today and spent much of the afternoon on the couch, doing needlepoint and just being kind to myself. Hopefully my body will forgive me by tomorrow!

Politics, Canadian Style

Yesterday they announced that the campaign is officially underway for our federal election. Campaigning began in earnest today. And we go to the polls on October 21. Whiz bang and we're done in five weeks. That's the way to do it!

My husband says that's because they're running on their track records, not their promises.

Joy in the Simple Things

My good friend Sheri (look, I didn't say my old friend Sheri) whom I've known since kindergarten came to visit me for a day while her husband was in town for work. Sheri is one of those delightful people you can just be yourself with and not have to entertain or put your best face on for. We spent the day walking to the library to return a book, going to Michael's to buy yarn, going to Dollarama for "Canadian" treats for her to take home to the family (Wunderbars are lovely), and going to Walmart, where she got McIntosh toffees and some sweaters for her grandsons. We ate chicken shwarma for lunch, and then we took Brio to the park to play ball.

These are all simple activities, but when you do them with someone you enjoy and have known forever, they turn into special events. The simple things in life become sacred when they're done with love.

I must remember that the next time I'm hosing out the recycling bin...

And How I Spent the Next Saturday...

Twenty-one jars of peaches takes just as long to process as sixty-one jars of tomatoes. Who knew? But at least they're done, and now sit golden and glowing like jewels on my shelf. And for the first time I made peach butter (like apple butter only peaches) and it is fabulous! I had an inch in a jar leftover that wouldn't fit in the 4 pints, and I thought, "I need to run buy some bread so I can try this." And I dipped a spoon into the little bit to taste it...and decided not to waste time going for bread. I just ate the thing straight from the jar. My, that was yummy!

While I was slaving at the kitchen sink, my poor husband was out chopping out part of our hedge. Now understand, I don't usually like the idea of eliminating greenery. I'm all about plants. But this hedge has been the bane of our existence for eighteen years. When we first moved in, it ran all the way around both the front and the back yards. It hadn't been properly pruned in many years and was leggy and out of control, and parts of it were about nine feet tall and five feet thick. We did some hard pruning at the beginning and got it down to a manageable size. And then when we put in the backyard fence we chopped some of it out and cut some of it to three feet high.

But even that reasonable height still meant an awful lot of pruning, and we've literally worn out three industrial electric trimmers. We bought another, but both of us find it too heavy to manage, and we've finally reached the stage where we're willing to admit defeat. We looked into a professional service to come trim it for us, but they want about $800 and they'd have to come three times a summer. Whew!

So we took the bull by the horns and my husband has chopped out about 150 feet of it (don't worry, there's still plenty left along two other sides of the yard). We've hired our burly sons to come dig out the roots for us. So after I finished seven hours of peaches, I went out to help haul the cut brush into a huge pile in the backyard until we can get someone with a truck or bin to haul it away for us. I imagine every rabbit in the neighbourhood perking up and shouting gleefully, "They're building us a condo!" We'll have to get it moved out before they move in.

We have had interesting reactions from people in the neighbourhood. Who knew how many people were aware of or emotionally attached to our hedge? Who knew how many others feel they have a stake or say in our landscaping? As my husband was out wrestling the thing into submission, every person walking or driving by had comments. Some acknowledged that forty years of one hedge is enough and it was time for something new. Some felt we were being reasonable when my husband explained it was either get the thing under control or sell the house. Some empathized with the whole getting-older-and-slower thing. And some felt it was too drastic and were horrified. To which I felt like responding, "Fine! We'll keep it. What time shall we expect you over to trim it for us?"

I still have plenty of hedge left for the birds and other critters to populate, never fear, and now I have a blank slate and must decide what to put in the hedge's place. It's surprising how much space it took up. The yard feels huge now. What to do? A tidy border of hostas or something to delineate boundaries? Cover it with gravel and not try to enclose it at all? How about I put up a 150-foot bench on which my neighbours can sit and contemplate the universe?

My body hates me this morning, but we got a lot done yesterday, I have to say. No one can say we don't know how to work. But I am looking forward to spending Labour Day NOT labouring. Definitely time to curl up with a good book and not move for a while.

How I Spent my Saturday

Tomato season is upon us! Three and a half bushels put up yesterday (61 litres stewed, and 11 1/2 pints of salsa). This year I got experimental hybrid seeds from the University of Florida and grew paste (Roma), beefsteak, and cherry tomatoes. They grew remarkably well, produced fruit by the bucket, and they all taste absolutely wonderful. Sweet, juicy, firm, and practically flawless. Apparently these particular varieties are meant to be especially high in nutrition as well. Best ones I've ever grown, and a fantastic yield.

Next week are peaches and crabapples, to be shortly followed bv pears, Spy apples, and concord grapes.

Maple

My little Shih-Tzu Maple is over fourteen years old now. He is mostly blind and almost entirely deaf. He's lost most of his teeth. He has arthritis in his back and walks a bit drunkenly. His lovely autumn-leaf colouring is going gray. He no longer jumps onto the couch or goes for long walks or takes any interest in toys. And over the past while he has had a series of small strokes, which lay him flat for a bit but don't appear to have any lasting effects. The vet has agreed that this fall it would be a mercy to put him down, before the cold increases his pain.

I know all this. I remind myself of this. And yet, there are still times when he's peppy and laughs with his mouth open and his tongue hanging out. He wags his tail when he realizes I'm near. He tries to scamper, though he can only go a couple of feet. There are times he finds a sunny spot on the grass and just rolls and squirms on his back, then collapses into a relaxed heap, reveling in the heat. I see him stand with his stubby nose pointed into the wind, feeling the breeze and picking up scents. He'll stand like that for an hour. He's happy. In spite of limitations, in spite of difficulty eating, in spite of bashing his face into fence posts and walls, he's content.

Dogs are so Zen. They don't waste time fretting that reality is not what they want it to be. They don't rail against fate or complain when things change. He's rolling with whatever comes his way and, against all odds, seems to find joy in his life. How can I put him down while he's still able to feel joy?

Then again, he has been a faithful, good dog and companion to my kids for many years. He's sweet-tempered and peaceful. How can I prolong his pain? Surely he doesn't deserve that. If his nature is to feel joy right up until the last breath, it's not as if I can wait until the joy stops before ending his life.

It's such a conundrum, trying to play God. I can see his physical limitations but I can also see his heart. I wish he could tell me what to do.

Of course, he is telling me what to do. Be at peace with what comes. Adapt. Love. Stretch out in the sun. Be joyful.

Fergus Scottish Festival

I'm home again, and attended the Fergus Scottish Festival today. Beautiful weather, great music, good food, and a lovely country drive to get there. There are times I miss piping with the band, and other times I feel content to let it go. Such as when I contemplate trying to deal with 8 yards of wool in a port-o-potty. But even if I'm no longer part of the band, they still make me feel welcome when I hang out with them. A great bunch of people.

My grand-daughter competed in highland dance for the first time today and I was very proud of her. She has amazing poise and stage presence for a seven-year-old, and I'm impressed she can even remember the intricate steps of the sword dance at her age.

I also attended a Gaelic language introductory workshop taught by Gillebride MacMillan and enjoyed it (attended last year too, but I picked up a lot more this time around). All in all, a fun day.