Sunday, July 26, 2015
Yesterday Attila had his weekly day off. The weather was perfect, almost, it was just a little too warm in the sun, just a little too humid in the shade. Still, it was summery, it was breezy, it was lovely.
We decided to get out of the house and wander. We packed a lunch, and loaded a few things into the car, and set out.
I had to overcome stasis to enjoy the outing, it is work. After having been at home, not leaving the property, for quite some time, I stick to it. I begin to feel distressed at the mere thought of leaving the property. This is the first stage of cabin fever, at least as I experience it. I worked hard at it, walked the high wire of anxiety, hopped into the car, and we drove away.
Our first destination was my Granny and Grandpa’s house.
Here we donned our sun hats, grabbed two plastic containers, and set out down the nearby trail to pick wild raspberries. I have been picking wild raspberries along that trail all of my life. I loved picking wild berries as a child. I suspect it was because I was usually the only child keen to accompany an adult on these afternoon ventures. To spend time with an adult, one on one, was a truly rare event in my childhood, so that any opportunity for that level of companionship was cherished.
Attila and I spent a few lovely hours sauntering down the trail, stopping each time we encountered lush berries hanging from the canes. Attila was more adept at wandering off the trail into the patches, in his high rubber boots. I kept more to the trail, now mindful of the arthritic knee. We enjoyed ourselves immensely, picked about a quart of wild raspberries, and had a nice long walk to boot.
Later, as we sat on the veranda at Granny and Grandpa’s house, enjoyed a well earned cold soda, a neighbour came to call. He keeps an eye on the place, and now recognizes us, we had a lovely chat. All was well with the house. My sister and her husband bring over their riding lawn mower and keep the grasses cut short, and recently repaired a snow-damaged beam on the veranda. My Mom, who owns the building, has been cleaning and tidying indoors.
We walked down to our camp, where we set up our chairs and enjoyed our picnic lunch. There was a divine breeze that flows through the camp, cool air being drawn up through the forest floor towards the high and bare rock outcrop at the back of the property. What bliss, just to sit there, take in the view, feel the breezes. I never tire of the view, looking out over the fields where my Great Grandfather farmed, and my Grandfather tended sheep.
Attila spent some time suckering the stumps left from clearing the lot last summer, and some time sleeping in his chair. I occasionally wandered down the road to check on Granny and Grandpa’s house, as twice strangers approached it. Two people on ATV’s were entering the driveway, and saw me watching them, so they took a few pictures and drove away. Another stranger was hiking the trail, a lone male, and decided to have a look. We reached the driveway at the same time, and we chatted briefly, he did not enter the property. He asked questions that indicated to me that his interest was not of an historical nature, I was not forthcoming, and he eventually carried on down the trail.
We headed home before the summer people began to head home, avoiding the bad traffic.
After picking wild berries with my Grandmother and Aunts, we would return to the house and bake with them. This was always such a treat. My grandmother almost always baked pies with the fruit. In my late teens, I began baking fresh fruit puddings, which are really just fruit bottom cakes. Although I loved pies, I found making a good crust just too challenging, so I settled for puddings. I have been using the same recipe, from my Granny’s Five Rose’s cookbook, for decades.
Once home, Attila set up the Nesco in the screened in porch, and I made myself busy cleaning the wild raspberries we had picked. Soon the pudding batter was ready, as was the Nesco, so into the oven the pudding went. Oh how I love these puddings! The lovely tartness of the berries and the sweet, moist cake! This is food that instantly transports me to happy times gone by.
After dinner Attila headed out to the woodshed. He is now working several hours a day splitting wood for the winter heating season. How lucky new owners would be, to buy a house, with the heating for the first winter ready and paid for!
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Well! I began a journal entry on Sunday, and here it is Wednesday and I am just getting back to it.
What is the big delay? Two house showings, they eat time. I spend the time before the showings tidying and tweaking, then leave while the realtor and their people go through, then come back and have a look at what they looked at. They always leave clues as to what they find important, a window opened and left open, a blind pulled up, magazines rearranged (that one is creepy, the magazines are no longer kept where they can be viewed), a closet door left open, that sort of thing. The whole process is extremely intrusive and most unpleasant to us. But it is the only way that the people who will love this house are going to find it. The house is much more patient in waiting for them than I am.
We are experiencing a heat wave, it has been very hot during the day since Sunday. I am a person who suffers in the heat. I do not like heat waves. With people coming through the house, it is opened up during the heat of the day, which does not happen otherwise. My system of closed blinds and closing windows has failed during this heat wave due to the house showings. It is well past 10 p.m. before the temperature in the house finally begins to cool off enough to sleep. It could be worse, at least it is cooling down at night.
I received a rare and brief email message from Luna, they are having a great time in Ireland, which is wonderful for them. I don’t have their address there, or a telephone number, just the email address, so it was good to hear they are all fine.
Terra is working full time for the summer months, so we haven’t heard from her at all. They are busy with their friends, and seemed happy the last time she sent a text message, which was Canada Day.
My health continues to improve. The hematoma is still large and lumpy, but it only hurts if I put significant pressure on it, which means that at last I can sit without pain. The tailbone is not improving so far, but that is a pain I have been living with for decades, so I don’t really notice it all that much. My knee is troubling me a bit more, as I have been unable to do my knee exercises due to the injured tailbone and the hematoma. It will be good to get back into doing those exercises, and going for daily walks again. The walks will have to wait until I am back at the little house in the city.
Both Attila and I have spent July accompanied by summer colds. Attila’s seems to have cleared this week, but mine is lingering on.
None of these things are slowing us down too much, we are keeping up with the house, and even managing some unplanned recreational time. The opportunity to share a picnic lunch with Attila came on Monday, when the house was to be shown during his lunch break. I packed a picnic, met him with cold sodas, and lots of food, at a park near his workplace. Even though it was hot, we enjoyed ourselves, sitting in the shade, just relaxing. Attila in particular found it relaxing because there were no “jobs” cluttering up his line of vision, as they do at home.
One of the “jobs” Attila has been working on almost every day, is the firewood, for heating the house this winter. He is now very close to having the woodshed filled, and it is a comfort to know that we will be able to heat the house through the winter if it’s new owner’s fail to find it this year.
I will say that I am very happy to be able to see Attila each and every day, it is a real treat.
21°C (High predicted to be 30C)
Date: 8:00 AM EDT Monday 27 July 2015
Pressure: 101.6 kPa
Visibility: 16 km
Wind: W 5 km/h
Date: 9:00 AM EDT Wednesday 29 July 2015
Pressure: 101.5 kPa
Visibility: 16 km
Wind: SSE 4 km/h
“The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of.”
Blaise Pascal (1623 – 1662)