Dream Our Own Dreams

Yesterday, Sunday, Attila and I spent the most peaceful, happy day of our years together. We arose early, ate a hearty breakfast, me a bowl of oatmeal, Attila sausages and an bagel. We puttered around the house, gathering more items that I am to take to the little house on my lone visit. Attila headed into town when the store opened to purchase milk, because there was none left, and Mist was having none of that! When he arrived back, Mist had her milk, and we packed the car for a day trip to the camp.

The day was sunny and warm. The leaves on the trees are at their peak right now, the beauty was almost overwhelming. We had a pleasant drive, and arrived at the camp before lunch time. There were no damages from the storms the weekend before, thank goodness.

There was no pressure to accomplish anything. This is unusual for us, we usually have a list of “must get dones”, but not yesterday. Attila puttered about, preparing the ground for the transplants he brought from home. He planted Ajuga in the bed under the tree. He planted Periwinkle along the driveway, and he transplanted one of Granny’s Roses, out of the driveway at Granny and Grandpa’s house, planting it in the sunniest location on our camp lot.

I puttered about, taking several walks down to Granny and Grandpa’s house, where everything seemed just fine, again no ill effects from the storm last weekend. At one point, as I was walking back to the camp, a group of ATVs roared by, the lead individual coming to a halt, pointing at Granny and Grandpa’s house, and shouting at the top of his lungs, “creepy”. Then they drove away. I think horror movies have had a real effect on the perceptions of some people! Later I was walking along the road on my way down to Granny and Grandpa’s house, and three lycra-tighted cyclists rode by the house, pointing and calling loudly to one another that it was a “great old place”. There are all kinds of people recreating in Ontario’s northland.

While Attila was finishing up his planting, I took the water jugs and headed out for a refill at the local public water supply. Before filling up though, I stopped in at the dump store, my favourite place to “shop”. I found: a rusty old metal rake, good for raking gravel at the camp; two books, one of 1937 vintage called Blackie’s Sports Series: Lawn Tennis; and two very large glass canisters with lids, made by Ball. There were other items of great interest to me that I did not scoop up: such as an old wooden chest of drawers, extremely well made, but we don’t need a chest of drawers; large plastic barrels that would be good as rain barrels; plastic lawn chairs, ugly and stained and otherwise perfectly serviceable, but we already have enough; a electric pasta maker, which seemed complete, but I already have a manual pasta maker.

After making my donation at the dump store, I headed for the public water supply. I filled all six 4 litre containers, loaded them into the car and back to the camp I went. We used three of the containers to water the new transplants.

One of my little projects at the camp was to create a small table, on which to prepare meals. Attila obtained a scrap of wood, a small square of 1″ thick pine. We brought a small saw with us, and I went to work on one of the ironwood stumps, sawing it flat to make a pedestal for the table. It took quite a while, the wood is green, the stump is still alive. When I was done and the top of the stump was flat, Attila took three nails and nailed the square of pine to the top of the stump. And there we had a little table in the bush.

Attila has plans to build a larger wooden table out of lumber scraps that he is slowly collecting. That will be a welcome addition to the camp. It will be left there, and hopefully left alone when we are absent. Someone goes through our belongings when we are not there. The old plastic car top carrier, where we store our pots and pans and water jugs, was deliberately opened, and not closed up again. It had copious amounts of water in it. It could be someone local, or it might be one of those people who see themselves as a great adventurer, exploring what they consider to be abandoned buildings and properties. There are whole groups of people who boast about trespassing on private property, under the guise of exploring abandoned buildings. There was nothing taken, nor was there any damage; they merely failed to re-close the car top carrier, and if they had done that we would not have known they had been there. I wonder if they are the same person/persons who break into Granny and Grandpa’s house, to rummage through their things, pocketing items, which is theft. It is a serious problem in the area around the camp, which is sparsely populated.

Attila and I were both feeling peckish by this time, so I rebuilt the rocket stove to fix us a bit of lunch. Attila gathered some dead pine branches, and soon we had a lovely little fire going. I washed out the frying pan, which we keep at the camp, which came from the dump store. As a wash basin, I used the plastic tote picked up at the dump store on a past visit, using another container of water, dish soap we brought from home, and a dish cloth we brought from home. I dried the frying pan over the fire, then assembled the bread and cheese for our grilled cheese sandwiches. There is nothing quite like a grilled cheese sandwich cooked over a wood stove! While the fire was still hot, I cooked two hot dogs as well. How wonderful, how simple, to sit eating sandwiches in our worn dump-store lawn chairs, our dirty old work clothes, side by side, looking out over the fields at the distant hills of red and yellow and orange. Other people might enjoy big houses, fast cars, big boats, beautiful clothes, media touted “livin’ the dream” stuff… Attila and I find perfection in the bush, we dream our own dreams.

On the road to the camp. I have been travelling this highway for over sixty years, all of my life. As a child I believed it was the road to heaven, heaven being Granny and Grandpa’s house. I never tire of it. It is much safer now, there used to be no paved shoulders, and the rock cuts were much closer to the road. Now those wide paved shoulders are often occupied by pedestrians and cyclists, who usually keep well back from the speeding vehicles. Not always though, occasionally they walk or ride “the line”, forcing vehicles to swerve around them. That is risky business, as I well know. On this highway my young cousin died when struck by a car, while riding his bicycle when there were no paved shoulders. It used to be a very dangerous highway, and still can be for the careless, or the ignorant.
Tothecamp 1
The same highway, with rock cuts and full fall colours.
Tothecamp 2
Another Highway on the way to the camp. This highway has a speed limit of 80 km per hour. Cyclists and pedestrians here are at greater risk, than those travelling the paved shoulder highway. This cyclist is using good practise, hugging the side of the road as high speed traffic pass them by. This is a new phenomena on the highways, recreational cyclists. They do not need licenses to ride these highways, and pay no taxes to maintain them. Some of them are responsible and respectful, many are ignorant and can be confrontational towards motorists. There are no regulations on how to cycle on high speed highways, and no knowledge of road safety required by cyclists. Personally, I dread coming across them on the highways, because you just never know what they are going to do, they are unpredictable, and many are foolhardy.
Tothecamp 3
The road into the camp, again a high speed, paved road. It dips and dives and winds around rock cuts and swamps, a beautiful drive. There are no paved shoulders on this road! We came across pedestrians walking two abreast, who refused to vacate our lane as we approached. We had to slow down to get around them, cottagers, again people without respect for the road.
Tothecamp 4
This is what I have been leading up to in my mention of pedestrians and cyclists. This is a high speed road, at times there have been people travelling over 100 km an hour along this road, we see them flash by while at our camp. This is a blind turn in the road, note that there are NO shoulders here at all, pedestrians and cyclists will be in the travel lane here, they have no other choice. Vehicles, travelling at the legal speed limit, might come around this corner and suddenly come upon a pedestrian or cyclist, with no warning. If there were an oncoming vehicle, one could not move into the other lane to avoid hitting the pedestrian or cyclist, nor could one stop quickly enough to avoid hitting them. I do not know which I would choose, to hit the other car head on at full speed, or to hit the pedestrian or cyclist, both options will result in serious injury or death. When I drive these roads, I slow down to a crawl coming through these corners, I know where they are. Often there is an expensive SUV, or sports car, or a huge new pickup truck, right on my rear bumper, angry that I have slowed down. I don’t care, I slow down every time!
Tothecamp 5
After our pleasant drive we arrive at the camp. Several of our trees are in full colour, like this maple. I take a snap shot of what I see when I look into the sky.
Tothecamp 6
Granny and Grandpa’s house on an autumn afternoon. My Grandparent’s moved into this house in 1930, it overlooks the fields where my Grandfather tended sheep, away across the fields, as a young boy, at the turn of the century, over 100 years ago. Both of my Grandparents were born near here, as were their parents. My Great Great Grandparents came to this wild landscape, to take advantage of the first land grants in the area.
Tothecamp 7
This is my Granny and Grandpa’s house, shortly after it was built in 1894, as the Railway Store at Maple Lake Station, later renamed Swords. The trains were still running when I was little, and I played in the station house, the building on the right. It was grand, with polished benches along three of the four walls. It was a forbidden playground though, because the trains were still running at that time, and playing near moving trains is not advisable for children.
Tothecamp maplelake
You can’t see me! This little fellow sat frozen in position until I had walked past him, on my way back to the camp. As soon as I had passed, he disappeared in a flash.
Tothecamp 8
My new little table at the camp. On top of it is the section of wood that was sawed off to make the top of the stump level.
Tothecamp 9
After a wonderful day together at the camp, Attila and I took one last look out over the fields, as we drove out onto the highway.
Tothecamp 10

Worldly Distractions

Weather

10°C
Date: 8:00 AM EDT Monday 29 September 2014
Condition: Fog
Pressure: 101.7 kPa
Visibility: 0 km
Temperature: 10.1°C
Dewpoint: 10.1°C
Humidity: 100%
Wind: calm

Quote

“What we think, or what we know, or what we believe is, in the end, of little consequence. The only consequence is what we do.”
John Ruskin
1819 – 1900

13 Comments

  1. Bex

    Beautiful and thanks for the photos this time! A real treat! Love the one looking up into the tree at the sky. Your fall colours are way ahead of ours, at least around our house. There are a few reds and golds but mostly still greens. I love your Granny’s old house.

  2. Bex, we are far enough north of you that the autumn season is more advanced. Actually, it is much more advanced at our camp than at our country house, or our little house in the city. Part of that might be that the camp is a great distance from any urban microclimates, which are kept warmer than undeveloped landscapes, because of human activities.

  3. I salivated to read about your lunch preparations – Yum! I salivated again with your BEAUTIFUL photos.

    Perceptions of excess or grandeur are unique to each of us. I’ve been surprised over the years when friends or family who have never visited my home, arrive and have been quietly disappointed. They reveal themselves by saying things like, “Oh, it’s not what I thought.” The photos of my home make my life look much grander than it is. It’s true – I have oodles of art – a lifetime passion – not some spree on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. My collection has been a patient and researched and studied acquisition over many years… and I leave a remarkable legacy for my children. I leave them very little else. I don’t think my 15 year old car counts. πŸ™‚ My home has soaring ceilings, which I guess mislead people into thinking I live in a mansion. I don’t. :)) So those who have fast cars and fast boats and fast lives… I don’t identify with them anymore than you, because much like you, I wouldn’t want all that *stuff*. But I try to remember that it’s that *stuff* that makes them happy. Well, I think it does – though I don’t get it. :))

    Years ago a woman new to the Cumberland Plateau complained that long time settlers (homes patched together with whatever, several cars on cement block, sheds with caved roofs) ruined the area for the rest of us. Gah. My response… “No, we ruined it for them.”

    It’s a delicate balance of tolerance, isn’t it?

  4. Irene, your art collection is wonderful, it visits your home like an honoured guest. It is my view that you collect art for its own sake, its intrinsic value, for love of the creative piece, to give beauty a home. Those disappointed visitors have a Scrooge syndrome of some kind, “pig- headed old fool with no eyes to see with and no ears to hear with”.

    Funny you know, I don’t think the media touted β€œlivin’ the dream” people would read my blog, If you read what I write, you are probably marching to the beat of your own drum, and dream your own dreams, the media be damned.

    Tolerance is a delicate balance! I admit that I do find it easier to be tolerant of kind and compassionate people, than I do greedy, self-absorbed people.

  5. TopsyTurvy (Teri)

    I’m loving the pictures you’ve taken! I’m one of those people that can easily be transfixed by the beauty of nature, finding it in the simplest flower, the smallest shell, that piece of smoothed wood from the lakeside.

    Our leaves are probably 2 weeks behind yours. Like Bex, we have some colorful branches but for the most part our trees are still green.

    Your discourse on bicyclists and pedstrians is incredibly timed. One of SS28’s friends died last week. He was walking along a country roadside after dark with his back to oncoming traffic and was struck by the extended mirror on a truck. As with so many young men now, I’m sure he was wearing dark-colored clothing. Chances are the driver of the truck never even saw him.

    It’s so sad when a tragedy like that could have been easily prevented.

  6. Maggie: I think in many ways we do dance to the same drummer, but your are far more Earth Mother than I could ever be. I so admire your spirit! I meant to mention that I love your grandparents home – what a treasure!

    To elaborate a bit more, I think people imagine I live in a sprawling home to accommodate my art, when in reality (if one looks at the walls) the collection is shoe-horned in. :))) My home is much people than people imagine and that’s what throws them off. Pffft!

    I know a couple who had an really really amazing collection in KCMO – they added a wing to their home for their ever expanding collection. Because I rarely use my screened porch, I hope to enclose it some day – save my pennies – so I have a sitting room and additional wall space. πŸ™‚ I first need to get on the other side of a lung transplant. πŸ™‚

    Sorry I’ve been such a yakker. xo

  7. Teri, the death of your stepson”s (SS28 is your stepson?) is so tragic.

    I wonder if the school system is not longer teaching pedestrian safety rules. On our drive home from town tonight, after dark, we passed two pedestrians, young men, dressed in dark clothing, with their backs to the traffic. Do they think they are video game heroes who get to play over and over again after being killed? Are they careless? Are they ignorant? Are they self-destructive? I don’t know, but I think it is a serious problem. I seem to care more about their well being than they do!

    There aren’t many safety rules to remember, don’t walk in traffic, walk single file at the side of the road, walk facing traffic… by the time I had been in Grade One for two weeks I could recite all of Elmer’s Safety Rules, and every last child in the class was drilled until they could recite them with ease.

  8. Reenie, blogs and comments on blogs are all about yakking in my opinion, your comments are always welcome and are always enjoyed.

    I get glimpses of your art collection when you post pictures of your beautiful home, and find it fascinating. I have always been fascinated by collections, but I am not a collector, if that makes sense. Collecting is something I appreciate in other people. I think it fascinates me because I have no understanding of it at all, I don’t think I have a collector’s bone in my body. But I love to see the collections that have been thoughtfully and lovingly assembled and displayed. Also, collections say a great deal about their creators, tell such a story about how the collector sees reality, and orders their perceptions and their universe… fascinating!

    You are a brave woman Reenie, and a wise one, to look beyond the lung transplant, to the infinity of the possible.

  9. Yes, sorry, SS28 is DH’s 28-year-old son, my younger stepson. DH also has an older boy, SS30. And then there’s non-bio step-daughter who is 14. SD14 and her mother (who is also the boy’s mother) are a continuously unfolding drama worthy of its own novel.

    *chuckle* Maggie doesn’t collect objects, she collects people – she has a collection of collectors! πŸ˜‰

  10. Maggie! Your comments are so kind and will sustain me for a long time – you inspire people to be better – with words and by example. Such a gift.

    I reread my comments and noted an interesting typo. πŸ™‚ Oddly, it kind of works!

    Regarding collections: Art is really all I collect, but I have other collections that happened on their own. Years ago I had a couple of teapots, which I kept on my kitchen counter because we steeped a lot during those days after our trips to Ireland. Friends and guests observed the pots and assumed I collected them. So now I have a small collection of teapots – people love them! I also have a collection of pitchers which are displayed on a loooooong windowsill in my dining room. I never intended to have a collection of pitchers. It just happened and it was easier to display them then try to find cabinet space. πŸ™‚ A quirk to my teapots and pitchers if that I find it pleasing to display them in descending order per height – while the art is a haphazard beautiful mess! We humans are a strange sort, aren’t we? xo

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