Attila works Saturdays. Usually a shorter day, he has been known to carry on through to completion if “something comes up”. As a result, my Saturdays bear little difference from weekdays, with one significant exception, the summer “season”.
The summer people spend weekends at their second-home/recreational properties, so the population swells ten fold. People, their sounds and their movement are everywhere apparent. The drone of motorboats, speeding SUVs and luxury vehicles, power washers, lawn mowers and every conceivable type of loud motorized convenience aid create an unmistakable backbeat. The wildlife and I retreat further into the shadows of the forest canopy on summer Saturdays. Unnoticed, undetected, invisible and happy to be so.
There was a time during my first marriage of affluence that I suspended disbelief in order to interact with mainstream ideals. It was during my late twenties. I found myself in a group conversation with my ex and two other couples. One of the males was expounding with great and unbridled pride and enthusiasm about the thrill of “conquering nature” by taking a canoe out onto Georgian Bay in inclement weather, risking his life and coming back alive. Truth be told, I felt him somewhat a fool, to manufacture a survival conflict with nature, an entity that will never be “conquered”, no matter what twisted hubris human “intelligence” adopts. My only comment at the time was that I found human interaction to be the most challenging natural phenomena I had ever encountered; the comment was totally ignored as irrelevant to the discussion. There was nothing for it but to let the men talk.
The Sam Larkin CDs still serenade my personal space, creating a bubble of sanity in the raucous shuffle of the good life that surrounds me.
Yesterday’s granola is now transforming itself into future breakfast; the oats came upstairs too late in the day yesterday to begin the cooking process. I will bake bread again this morning. Laundry is piled high. Dishes are piled high. These are my favorite kind of messes; I know exactly what to do and they are easily solved by a few hours of elbow grease. An easy day.
|RECIPES :: Cast
Marking the Seasons
We Will Be Birds
Sam Larkin, "ransom" CD
Galbraith [John Kenneth Galbraith] was chatting with our class at one of our Friday afternoon get-togethers. He told us of the days when he was a young man on the family farm in Canada. He and a girlfriend were leaning over the fence looking into the cow pasture. "A bull came up to the nearest cow and mounted her. I said to the young lady, 'My, that ought to be fun!' She replied, 'Well, go ahead, it's your cow.'"
Angus MacLean Thuermer
Class of 1951
Pressure 101.0 kPa
Visibility 3 km
Humidity 90 %
Wind SSE 15 km/h
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