The green leaves of summer turn red in the fall,
To brown and to yellow they fade.
And then they have to die.
They're trapped within the circle time parade
Of changes.
(From my favourite campfire song sung on the last day of summer camp. It's been resonating in my head all day today)
To brown and to yellow they fade.
And then they have to die.
They're trapped within the circle time parade
Of changes.
(From my favourite campfire song sung on the last day of summer camp. It's been resonating in my head all day today)
For the past 20 years, my husband and I (and the kiddies when they showed up) have spent Labour Day weekend in a small village in Nova Scotia called Spencer's Island. It's a bit of a misnomer because the island isn't inhabited. The village sits on the Minas Bay and overlooks the island and the coastline of the Anapolis Valley behind it. Spencer's Island is our ancestral link to the Maritimes.
I was lucky enough to marry into the family and since we have produced two offspring Maritimers, I was accepted by the local "gentry." We always stayed in the house that my Mother-in-law grew up in, who spent all of her summers there with her kids and then grandkids. She inherited the big white farmhouse up on the hill that overlooks the beach and other village homes, while her brother, Max inherited the property where he cultivated blueberries and maple syrup, lumber, and a lucious strawberry patch for me or so he said. Uncle Max was a big flirt......... The property has been in the family for 6 generations. Though it used to be a thriving farm in its heyday, when the community was also a ship building centre, the village evolved into home for no more than 50 people in the winter, though a home base for many more.
Labour Day weekend was always the last kick at beach suppers and campfires with family and friends and dogs. It was a celebration of the summer harvest. Oftentimes, it was the last hurrah with many of our summer clan because most of the homes now are only used for the season and are boarded up until spring. Three generations would often be found around the dining room table, that had been "antiqued" during the 1960's "antique everything avocada green or mustard yellow" trendy phase............or down at the beach for a brunch cum lunch cum dinner extravaganza...........tide in, tide out............enjoying the last warm rays of the sun.......... There is a sense of belonging that is strong and emotional.
On the morning of Labour Day, I often would get up first, start up the woodstove, put the kettle and radio on, make the coffee, grab a cozy blanket, book and enjoy my first cup of tea on the red couch in the kitchen. My Mother in Law (aka Mim) would be the next up...........pour herself a coffee and sit in the rocking chair right by the woodstove..........we would both be looking forward to hearing Peter Gzowski's familiar voice welcoming us back to the CBC Morningside for another season. After two months of repeated interviews, a fresh Gzowski with his homespun perspective and excitement was a welcome kick off of the New Year. Mim and I would often have a couple of hours to ourselves on most mornings in Spencer's Island............to make breakfast, to talk about latest who dunnit books and politics and to drink our favoured hot drinks........and on Labour Day, to share the moment when we would hear the familiar intro tune and when Gzowski would say....
"Good morning Canada, welcome to Morningside, hour one..............and a new season........"
This weekend, we stayed home. We chose to for many reasons, some more emotionally charged than others........... Times have changed, and Spencer's Island seems to be floating into the abyss of nostalgia. 4 summers ago, we celebrated in grand style my In-Laws' 50 wedding anniversary. The party was held in the old school house that Mim attended when she was a wee lassie. 3 summers ago was the last time they were able to spend a summer in Spencer's Island. It was touch and go for those two months, their health issues made it quite stressful and precarious. But, on that Labour Day weekend , we all converged with a relieved happy feeling that they had successfully managed to cope and connect with family and friends without a lot of intervention. This feeling shattered when all of a sudden my Father in Law, Buzzie, fell down at the beach in front of the campfire and broke his hip. He ended up in the Moncton Hospital, 2 hours away having surgery. His Alzheimers seemed to kick in with a vengeance at the same time, as we somehow managed to get him back to the "Parrsboro shore" in a small hospital for recovery..........5 minutes away from the house, and then back to Ontario to their home for good. Given that both of them were suffering from some serious health concerns at the same time, they have never been back to Mim's homestead.
Yes Labour Day weekend, is bittersweet and memorable. The last time that my husband, kids and I were enjoying the fruitful harvest of Labour Day two years ago, we received a phone call from Ontario informing us that Mim had fallen and broken her hip. Since her health was not good prior to the fall, the doctors didn't expect her to make it through the surgery. We dropped my husband off at the airport in Moncton and made our way home to Fredericton waiting the news. She survived the surgery, but it definately took it's toll. Their lives are now narrowly focused on attempting to remain in their own home with the help of a live-in caregiver, far away from their children, far away from Spencer's Island. Quality of life? Not the same. Their combined health issues are daunting.
Last year, my sister in law moved into the house with the intention of settling there. This was a surprise to her brothers and to keep this post from not turning into a novel..................let's just say her decision to do this has shattered any relationship that we had with her. We have not been back to the house, a place where my husband spent his most memorable and loving childhood times, and a place where I found my footing living in the Maritimes, since a visit last fall that turned ugly.
Times do change..................there are beginnings and endings and new beginnings.
Today was a rainy Labour Day, which bode well for my desire to make a huge batch of fruit relish from an old Mennonite recipe I was given during my university days. I forgot how big Mennonite families were.............hence the incessant long chopping and preparing of this vast savoury relish that is still simmering on my stove...........but I was able to listen to the CBC and remember. I was filled with many thoughts and realizations. Gone is Peter Gzowski's warm welcome to the Fall season. There are new voices on the CBC. And gone are my woodstove, tea drinking mornings with Mim in Spencer's Island when the breezes had turned crisp and the sunrises sharper all leading to a harvest moon. As a family, we are definately experiencing transitional times.
Maybe it's time to embrace new traditions............I think so. And, I'm fine with that. It's sad that the "1rst" generation is leaving us, though never in spirit.................and that forced circumstances, especially with the house in Spencer's Island have radically altered our lives.
I love this time of year. I love September................not just because my birthday happens to be just around the corner....................but because it has always felt that it is the beginning of a new year. Yes, I did spend a great deal of my time thinking and processing the changes brought on by aging today, but I also drummed up new plans for projects to tackle this fall, and wondered about the people in my life who I don't often see during the summer months, and looked forward to re-entering a routine again..........work and school resume tomorrow. I want to catch up with my co-workers, touch base with the teachers at my son's school, get back to my writing in a more structure fashion. I plan to return to church this fall..............and then there's the election coming up in this province...................yes as I stirred my chutney, I listened to a hilarious comedian on the CBC and laughed at his bizarre absurdity all the while thinking that Mim would've loved this guy, I thought about the past, the present and the near future and felt blessed.
Beginnings and endings and beginnings............................it's why I love the seasons and all the changes that they bring to my life. I can't imagine living someplace where distinctive seasons don't orchestrate the changes.
_______________________________
Another change......................the closing of my Camp. This was the first summer of silence at Camp Kawabi. I had posted my comments on the Camp website I wrote that when I had the opportunity to visit a couple of weeks ago, if I listened very closely, I could still hear the kids singing, the boats whirring, and the bell tolling for breakfast all within the silence of the forest. I checked the website today and found a poem written by a staff friend and fellow alumni. He attached it to the thread that I had begun. He had the experience during his visit to Kawabi. "Daisy" was on staff when I was a camper................named after the rifle, he taught me how to hit a bulls-eye. I wanted to share his post with others.....................
"Hey Muskie!
Perhaps it was the reunion, perhaps my own short visit to Camp in August but I have been feeling strong emotions about camp lately. The result - a short poem in respect of Kawabi's first "quiet" summer.
WHEN I WAS YOUNG
As seasons change and life unfolds
I cannot help but look behind
To the days of my Kawabi youth
And the comfort there I find
Then at that time when I was young
Summer friends with whom I shared
Filled my life with such companionship
Would that time had left me there
Will I see you again in September
After tasting summer’s best
When boats and docks and beds and tents
Are stored for winter’s rest
Will you warm me in the autumn
When children’s voices fade
Into the forest, across the lake
With the friendships that they’ve made
Will I feel you again in this heart
Before my time is ended
And share your extraordinary spirit
With those that I’ve befriended
Will I see you again in this life
To touch you one more time
To walk your beaches and breathe your air
And tell you that you’re mine
Oh nature guard this blessed place
Which brought us all together
Where friends were born and worries died
But memories live forever"
“DAISY”
I was lucky enough to marry into the family and since we have produced two offspring Maritimers, I was accepted by the local "gentry." We always stayed in the house that my Mother-in-law grew up in, who spent all of her summers there with her kids and then grandkids. She inherited the big white farmhouse up on the hill that overlooks the beach and other village homes, while her brother, Max inherited the property where he cultivated blueberries and maple syrup, lumber, and a lucious strawberry patch for me or so he said. Uncle Max was a big flirt......... The property has been in the family for 6 generations. Though it used to be a thriving farm in its heyday, when the community was also a ship building centre, the village evolved into home for no more than 50 people in the winter, though a home base for many more.
Labour Day weekend was always the last kick at beach suppers and campfires with family and friends and dogs. It was a celebration of the summer harvest. Oftentimes, it was the last hurrah with many of our summer clan because most of the homes now are only used for the season and are boarded up until spring. Three generations would often be found around the dining room table, that had been "antiqued" during the 1960's "antique everything avocada green or mustard yellow" trendy phase............or down at the beach for a brunch cum lunch cum dinner extravaganza...........tide in, tide out............enjoying the last warm rays of the sun.......... There is a sense of belonging that is strong and emotional.
On the morning of Labour Day, I often would get up first, start up the woodstove, put the kettle and radio on, make the coffee, grab a cozy blanket, book and enjoy my first cup of tea on the red couch in the kitchen. My Mother in Law (aka Mim) would be the next up...........pour herself a coffee and sit in the rocking chair right by the woodstove..........we would both be looking forward to hearing Peter Gzowski's familiar voice welcoming us back to the CBC Morningside for another season. After two months of repeated interviews, a fresh Gzowski with his homespun perspective and excitement was a welcome kick off of the New Year. Mim and I would often have a couple of hours to ourselves on most mornings in Spencer's Island............to make breakfast, to talk about latest who dunnit books and politics and to drink our favoured hot drinks........and on Labour Day, to share the moment when we would hear the familiar intro tune and when Gzowski would say....
"Good morning Canada, welcome to Morningside, hour one..............and a new season........"
This weekend, we stayed home. We chose to for many reasons, some more emotionally charged than others........... Times have changed, and Spencer's Island seems to be floating into the abyss of nostalgia. 4 summers ago, we celebrated in grand style my In-Laws' 50 wedding anniversary. The party was held in the old school house that Mim attended when she was a wee lassie. 3 summers ago was the last time they were able to spend a summer in Spencer's Island. It was touch and go for those two months, their health issues made it quite stressful and precarious. But, on that Labour Day weekend , we all converged with a relieved happy feeling that they had successfully managed to cope and connect with family and friends without a lot of intervention. This feeling shattered when all of a sudden my Father in Law, Buzzie, fell down at the beach in front of the campfire and broke his hip. He ended up in the Moncton Hospital, 2 hours away having surgery. His Alzheimers seemed to kick in with a vengeance at the same time, as we somehow managed to get him back to the "Parrsboro shore" in a small hospital for recovery..........5 minutes away from the house, and then back to Ontario to their home for good. Given that both of them were suffering from some serious health concerns at the same time, they have never been back to Mim's homestead.
Yes Labour Day weekend, is bittersweet and memorable. The last time that my husband, kids and I were enjoying the fruitful harvest of Labour Day two years ago, we received a phone call from Ontario informing us that Mim had fallen and broken her hip. Since her health was not good prior to the fall, the doctors didn't expect her to make it through the surgery. We dropped my husband off at the airport in Moncton and made our way home to Fredericton waiting the news. She survived the surgery, but it definately took it's toll. Their lives are now narrowly focused on attempting to remain in their own home with the help of a live-in caregiver, far away from their children, far away from Spencer's Island. Quality of life? Not the same. Their combined health issues are daunting.
Last year, my sister in law moved into the house with the intention of settling there. This was a surprise to her brothers and to keep this post from not turning into a novel..................let's just say her decision to do this has shattered any relationship that we had with her. We have not been back to the house, a place where my husband spent his most memorable and loving childhood times, and a place where I found my footing living in the Maritimes, since a visit last fall that turned ugly.
Times do change..................there are beginnings and endings and new beginnings.
Today was a rainy Labour Day, which bode well for my desire to make a huge batch of fruit relish from an old Mennonite recipe I was given during my university days. I forgot how big Mennonite families were.............hence the incessant long chopping and preparing of this vast savoury relish that is still simmering on my stove...........but I was able to listen to the CBC and remember. I was filled with many thoughts and realizations. Gone is Peter Gzowski's warm welcome to the Fall season. There are new voices on the CBC. And gone are my woodstove, tea drinking mornings with Mim in Spencer's Island when the breezes had turned crisp and the sunrises sharper all leading to a harvest moon. As a family, we are definately experiencing transitional times.
Maybe it's time to embrace new traditions............I think so. And, I'm fine with that. It's sad that the "1rst" generation is leaving us, though never in spirit.................and that forced circumstances, especially with the house in Spencer's Island have radically altered our lives.
I love this time of year. I love September................not just because my birthday happens to be just around the corner....................but because it has always felt that it is the beginning of a new year. Yes, I did spend a great deal of my time thinking and processing the changes brought on by aging today, but I also drummed up new plans for projects to tackle this fall, and wondered about the people in my life who I don't often see during the summer months, and looked forward to re-entering a routine again..........work and school resume tomorrow. I want to catch up with my co-workers, touch base with the teachers at my son's school, get back to my writing in a more structure fashion. I plan to return to church this fall..............and then there's the election coming up in this province...................yes as I stirred my chutney, I listened to a hilarious comedian on the CBC and laughed at his bizarre absurdity all the while thinking that Mim would've loved this guy, I thought about the past, the present and the near future and felt blessed.
Beginnings and endings and beginnings............................it's why I love the seasons and all the changes that they bring to my life. I can't imagine living someplace where distinctive seasons don't orchestrate the changes.
_______________________________
Another change......................the closing of my Camp. This was the first summer of silence at Camp Kawabi. I had posted my comments on the Camp website I wrote that when I had the opportunity to visit a couple of weeks ago, if I listened very closely, I could still hear the kids singing, the boats whirring, and the bell tolling for breakfast all within the silence of the forest. I checked the website today and found a poem written by a staff friend and fellow alumni. He attached it to the thread that I had begun. He had the experience during his visit to Kawabi. "Daisy" was on staff when I was a camper................named after the rifle, he taught me how to hit a bulls-eye. I wanted to share his post with others.....................
"Hey Muskie!
Perhaps it was the reunion, perhaps my own short visit to Camp in August but I have been feeling strong emotions about camp lately. The result - a short poem in respect of Kawabi's first "quiet" summer.
WHEN I WAS YOUNG
As seasons change and life unfolds
I cannot help but look behind
To the days of my Kawabi youth
And the comfort there I find
Then at that time when I was young
Summer friends with whom I shared
Filled my life with such companionship
Would that time had left me there
Will I see you again in September
After tasting summer’s best
When boats and docks and beds and tents
Are stored for winter’s rest
Will you warm me in the autumn
When children’s voices fade
Into the forest, across the lake
With the friendships that they’ve made
Will I feel you again in this heart
Before my time is ended
And share your extraordinary spirit
With those that I’ve befriended
Will I see you again in this life
To touch you one more time
To walk your beaches and breathe your air
And tell you that you’re mine
Oh nature guard this blessed place
Which brought us all together
Where friends were born and worries died
But memories live forever"
“DAISY”
6 comments:
Hugs about the house and your family. It's not cool when things take a turn for the worse, but it makes yous tringer and at least you still have th memories. The pics are beautiful BTW.....and I love the maritimes. My trip there earlier this year was one of my most memorable trips!
i too love this time of year, when summer begins to give up her fight and the beauty of the fall begins - there is a strange beauty to creation preparing for sleep
am reminded of these words by John Muir
'Everyone needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to body and soul alike.'
I was right there with you sipping tea and loving every minute of your story about Mim. What a wonderful way to employ a morning, while others are sleeping. Nothing better than spending time with someone you love and working out the worlds problems. I miss that dearly today.
I remember my sister-in-law said something to me about us now becoming the senior members of our family, as we are down to just one member that is not suffering from alzheimers. If we look carefully into our past, we can still conjure up some of the best memories of everyone gathered in the kitchen, laughing and telling stories.
As for autumns arrival.... I'm only too happy that the weather has cooled down enough so that it isn't necessary to keep the air on. Oh yes, and the colors.... the beautiful colors. I do miss the foliage of New England, but we get enough of it here that I experience 3 distinct seasons. Winter is kind of a joke when it comes to snow, but that's ok as I experienced enough of that growing up as a child and young adult.
your title made me think of beginnings and endings and beginnings with lots of living inbetween..
I love autumn with it's transformation and changing colours - It does feel like the beginning of a new year - thank you for your comment - wishing you a good week too
HI everyone.
Leftfield.....yes the Maritimes is a special place. So is Spencer's Island. One day, I plan to write a WHOLE novel on the place. It's filled with intriguing stories and interesting characters......
Harbour. I am entranced by that quote. I have let it replay in my head all day. We do need beauty and bread. It's the beauty that does feed the soul. When I think of the times where I have found myself surrounded by beauty, be it in nature or in a cathedral filled with light filtering through the colourful windows, I am filled with awe and energy........no need for any other sustenance. Thank you for the quote.
Hi Ellen. All the coffee/tea moments sitting by that woodstove or working in the kitchen together with Mim had somehow drifted out of my memory bank of late until yesterday. I guess I had been focused on her health for such a long time that I had misplaced those moments.
The Martimes are known for their kitchen parties and kitchen clutches. What I miss the most about Spencer's Island is the fact that the kettle never stopped boiling, and the coffee never stopped perking all morning long as other family members and friends popped in for a cup and a chat. It was a revolving door of cheer.
Rainbow.........yes always lots of living along the way.....! Thanks for stopping by.
Hi Barlow.
Who are you? Can you send me an email from my profile and I will let you know how you can reach them.
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