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.
Date: 8:00 AM EDT Monday 29 September 2014
Pressure: 101.7 kPa
Visibility: 0 km
“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.”
1819 – 1900
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.
The pleasure and peace of that day came through so clearly in your words and your pictures. Thanks for sharing this wonderful day!
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.
Glad to share the day Wendy! I wanted to remember it, because it was so simple and satisfying. The pictures are the element that will really take me back in time, during the years to come.
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. 🙂 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?
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 “livin’ 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.
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.
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. 🙂 I first need to get on the other side of a lung transplant. 🙂
Sorry I’ve been such a yakker. xo
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.
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.
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! 😉
I’m so glad you had a relaxing day. The fall colors are beautiful in your area.
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. 🙂 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. 🙂 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