con-trar-i-an  – a person who opposes or rejects popular opinion (n); opposing or rejecting popular opinion, going against current practice (adj)

For some reason, that word – contrarian – has been floating around in my mind, in my consciousness. I am not a true contrarian. I don’t automatically take a contrary position to whatever is presented to me. However… lately I have had an almost knee-jerk reaction to do exactly the opposite of what people were doing in some certain situations.

Recently I felt the overwhelming impulse to be a contrarian at a party. There was cake, it was a party after all, and parties and cakes go together like, well, cakes and parties. I was in a small group of women and the time came to cut the cake. Well, the women around me all declined to eat even a tiny piece of it. Cake goes straight to my hips. I’m up a pound and a half this week, cake would set me back even more. I’m off all sugar, flour and dairy this month, and I’ve lost six pounds already. Yeah, and you’ve also lost your sense of humour and your sense of reality. I understand dietary issues, I know people who have problems with dairy and gluten but they occassionally have a bowl of dairy-free gelato or a piece of gluten-free cake. In that situation I wanted to sit there, in the midst of those women, and shovel cake into my face with both hands. I wanted to have icing smeared all over my face and crumbs down the front of my shirt. They were all beautiful, accomplished, intelligent women and yet somehow they saw eating cake as something they shouldn’t do. Cake isn’t evil; people who think cake is evil are evil.

For crying out loud, when you’re at a party eat the damn cake people! If you need to, walk up a flight of stairs the next day and have salad for lunch. I’ve said it before and I mean it; life is too short not to eat cake, or chocolate or s’mores or whatever it is, and enjoying that moment with your friends or your family is worth that imaginary inch or pound, because let’s face it, a treat every now and then doesn’t make that much of a difference. So, if I go out to coffee with you, I’m going to have a muffin or a cookie and then I’ll go for a walk. If I go out for dinner, I’ll skip the appetizer so I can have the dessert. And if you make stupid statements about how one doughnut will ruin your life, my contrarian nature will kick in and I’ll have to eat my doughnut and then scarf down yours. If you really don’t want the damn cake, then just say “No thanks”, don’t make those stupid statements that make people want to slap you silly.

The next situation that brought out my contrarian nature happened at a meeting. We were a new group, getting together for the first time. The chair of the meeting suggested that we take a little time to get to know each other. He started by listing every accomplishment he had ever had in his 70-odd years, even some that weren’t related to why we were there. I kept my face pleasantly relaxed but as I looked around the room I saw some interesting expressions. The young woman beside me was clearly overwhelmed; she was new to our enterprise and I could literally see her becoming more and more insecure. I was thinking that our chair was a pompous old fart but I nodded and smiled when he ended on a self-deprecating note. Okay, I thought, now that we’ve seen how not to do it… and we all turned to the next person at the table. Well, he thought his job was to outdo the chair. This a$$h@le went on for about ten minutes, listing all his personal and business accomplishments and then he told us about every member of his family and their accomplishments. WTF! Again, my face was pleasantly neutral but glancing around I could see others were finding it hard to stay focused on him. I could see the wheels in their brains turning as they planned what they would say. I was next. Very briefly I said I was a retired teacher and I was happy to be involved. That was it. People looked at me like I was simple. I smiled at everyone and turned to the young woman beside me. I could feel her relax. She let out the breath she was holding and spoke eloquently and humorously, and briefly. We got through the rest of the people at the table without any more a$$h@liness.

Come on people! No one really wants to hear that you were the president of your Grade 7 class or that you were the only person in your company to be employee of the week ten times in one year. Nor do we want to hear that your son is a doctor and your daughter is a lawyer and your grandchildren can speak three languages and play five instruments. We all have many, many things we could crow about, but that’s just not how intelligent, accomplished people do things. And when you’re like that, you trigger my contrarian impulses. I’ll want to take the opposing side of every issue that comes up between us just because you’re an a$$h@le. Oh, I’ll be polite and smart about it and since you’re such a self-involved twit you probably won’t even notice.

There have been other situations recently where my contrarianness has kicked it. Like when a guy was berating concession workers at the football game because his burger took too long. When it was our turn to wait for our burgers, I smiled at the young man behind the counter. Then I turned to the miserable git eating his burger at a table beside us and smiled at him. I thought he was going to choke. Sometimes being a contrarian has some pleasurable side effects. Talking to negative people kicks my contrarian nature into overdrive. When I’m with them everything is wonderful, everything is possible, if only just to piss them off. Tell me I can’t do it, or that no one will agree to it and I’ll make it happen, or I’ll agree with you because you thought I wouldn’t. Spoiling for a fight? You probably won’t get it from me. Want to have a passionate discussion? I can deal with passion as long as you’re open-minded and willing to listen and perhaps concede some points because that’s how I’ll be. Now, if you’re a friend and you need someone to listen while you vent and rail against whatever, I’ll listen and I’ll agree with everything you say. A situation like that doesn’t kick my contrarian nature into being, most situations don’t. And when people are pleasant and reasonable, my contrarian personality is offline and it stays there.

Try being a contrarian when people pop off. In a world of bigotry and rudeness and all those other nasty things, being a contrarian is a positive thing.

Whenever I go back home or see people from small towns the comments and questions are always the same. Oh, I couldn’t live in the city, too many people, too much traffic. It’s too noisy. What do you do there, besides shop? Well, the shopping is good and you do get used to the noise and the traffic. I find the busyness invigorating. In an ideal world, with money being no object, I’d live right in downtown Vancouver. I loved, loved, loved the two months we lived there, however we couldn’t have stayed in that tiny apartment. I still get a quiver of excitement every time we head downtown. I recently told someone all the things we did in the city and she said I had listed things that were fairly expensive, like going to Broadway shows at the QE theatre and season tickets to the BC Lions. I didn’t recover quickly enough to list all the things we do that aren’t expensive, but I’ve had time to remedy that. Here are some things we get to do in the city:

• Car shows, air shows, bike races, fireworks and parades – While everyone east of Hope sees the lower mainland as Vancouver, there are actually different cities down here and every city has its own list of annual activities that happen. This year we’ve learned about more of them. Dale is more aware of the car shows now that he’s a member of a car club. We have a friend who is a pilot and last night we watched a twilight air show in Chilliwack. Last month we walked a block and watched the Poco Grand Prix. It’s part of the BC Superweek of cycling. There are other races in nearby communities. Maybe next year we’ll take in some of them too. A while ago we took the West Coast Express downtown and watched the final night of the Celebration of Light. Doing that made us get Compass Cards, now we can ride on any bus or train. Of course every community has parades, for Victoria Day or Canada Day, and then there’s the granddaddy of all the parades, the Vancouver Pride Parade.
• Farmer’s Markets and Night Markets – Okay, this is technically shopping and I know small towns have them too, but here every community has one so we could go to one several times a week. The Richmond and Surrey Night Markets are huge. They are worth a visit just to see the sights and smell the food!
• Theatres – If you were so inclined, you could see a different production every week down here.  Every city has at least one community theatre association. Tickets range from $10 to $40. The higher end prices are for the professional quality shows like Theatre Under the Stars (TUTS) at the Malkin Bowl in Stanley Park. This year we took a picnic to the park and enjoyed it before the show. Of course, we could also go to professional productions in Vancouver and we’ve done that too. Last Christmas we saw Jim Byrnes in “Bah! Humbug!”, and we have enjoyed Bard on the Beach. Professional theatre tickets can be bought for as little as $10.00, well within everyone’s budget and well worth the price.
• Museums, parks and other attractions – There are 37 museums in the greater Vancouver region. You can see heritage houses, art, maritime artifacts, BC sports heroes – you name it there’s probably a museum for it somewhere down here. Every community has a parks and recreation department with all activities listed. You could take art lessons or go for a swim. Libraries offer activities too. And of course, there’s the aquarium and the zoo and Science World. Many of the attractions offer seasonal activities, like Easter egg hunts, haunted houses and Christmas trains.
• Festivals – Tourism Vancouver lists all the festivals being held in the city. HelloBC lists festivals and events in Vancouver, Coast and Mountains. There’s more than enough to keep you busy all year round listed in those sites.
• Scenic drives – Dale loves to drive. We often just head somewhere to see what we can find. If nothing else, we discover great little cafes for lunch. We can be on an ocean beach in less than an hour, or on the top of a mountain. We can drive along a river or through a park forest. We’ve got it all within driving distance.

I just googled “free things to do in Vancouver”. The first hit listed things like going to Granville Island or walking the sea wall. The second hit said the lists of free things to do in Vancouver are boring, and it listed things like testing events at liquor stores and board game nights at comic book stores. There are lists of free things to do on rainy days, in the summer, in the winter and free things to do tonight. There are also lists of cheap things to do. Want to learn how to salsa dance? Take a hike? Play frisbee golf? See an outdoor movie? Listen to jazz? I could go on and on. And it’s all free. And if you take public transit you don’t have to pay for parking and there’s an app (or a website) to tell you which bus and/or trains to take. Just put in where you’re leaving from, where you’re going and when you’d like to arrive, and options pop up, and the information is free!

Not everything here has to be an event, a festival, a celebration. There are simple pleasures too. If you want to garden, you can still do that here. I’ve seen amazing deck and balcony gardens, even in downtown Vancouver. You can grow almost anything in containers. And if you want more room to garden, there are community gardens all over. I don’t know how you’d get a space in one, but I bet you can quickly find out online. Kids here in Poco can still walk down to the creek (it’s actually the Coquitlam River but this time of year it’s more like a creek) with their air mattresses and tubes and float away the day. There are places to go fishing, parks where you can sit under a tree and read a book, farms where you can pick berries or apples and then come home and make jam or pies.

Living here gives me the best of all worlds, all I have to do is decide what I want to do today. Or I could just sit here on my couch listening to the live music from the Poco car show. The windows are open to catch the breeze and the band is doing a great cover of Have You Ever Seen the Rain by CCR. Oh, and malls are still open if I want to go shopping.

What is it about a rainy day that sets me to thinking, questioning? Don’t know, but it’s raining now and these are my big thoughts for today.

1. Why is it so hard to let go? I had this discussion recently with a woman I hadn’t seen in years. She told me of an event, in which I had featured, that she had carried around with her for years. She deeply regretted the event, or non-event as it turned out, and she apologized to me for it. And you know what? I had no knowledge, ever, of the event. Not when it happened, not after, never. She thought it had affected me and I had no inkling it had ever happened. She was relieved, but then she started beating herself up for carrying it around for all those years. I’ve done it, I mean, I do it. That’s what we talked about, how we chew on the bad or awful or terrible things we think we’ve done. How we revisit those unkind words or thoughtless things we’ve done, over and over, never letting go, and feeling shame or remorse or both every single time they flash through our consciousness. And yet, we never trot out those wonderful things we’ve done, the good deeds, the acts of wilful kindness we have all done and continue to do. No, those events fly out of our heads the moment they’re over, but the time we did that thing, about 1000 years ago, that thing, it’s here now. I worked with a woman who would literally let those kinds of things go. She would whisper what she had done into her cupped hands. Then she would slowly open her hands while blowing on them. In essence she was freeing the words to the cosmos. It was a physical representation of a metaphysical act. She was letting it go. We are so hard on ourselves. And yet, at the same time we forgive everyone around us for the same things we’ve done. In fact, sometimes we tell them there’s nothing to forgive, really, it was nothing. If only we could be so kind to ourselves. I have a tattoo that is a symbol for mindfulness. There is nothing else in time and space except right now. And if we worry about the future (which we can’t control) or obsess over the past (which we can’t change) we miss this moment. Okay, so you did something bad or rude or mean or thoughtless, whatever. As the late great Maya Angelou said, “I did then what I knew to do. Now that I know better, I do better.” Learn from it, let it go and move on. Now, if only it was as easy as that.

2. Why do some people work so hard at not being happy? Maybe questions one and two are related; can’t let go, can’t be happy. I have seen people turn beautiful days into life-sucking miserable days. Everything has a negative attached to it. Yes that’s a beautiful garden but imagine how much work it takes to keep it looking that way. The food is good at that restaurant but it takes so long to get there. I would love to go to the mall but it’s always so crowded. Yes, but…. there’s always a but. And you know what Dr. Phil says, “but” means ignore everything I just said. I find being around people like that is so hard. The negativity creeps into your psyche and you find yourself agreeing. Mostly just not to be negative to the person you’re talking to and then suddenly you realize, by trying not to be negative, you have just confirmed every negative thing they’ve said. There’s a wonderful saying that you can either not believe in miracles or you can see miracles all around you. I’ve said this before, you find what you are looking for. And it takes so much effort to turn every positive thing into a negative one, and more than a little creativity at times. But those nasty negative Nellies always rise to the occasion. Have a lovely run of good summer weather? Oh, the forests will burn. Have a couple of rainy days in the summer? This is the worst summer ever. Someone brings you a delicious cake. If I eat that I’ll get fat. Thanks but… Yes but… Wonderful but… The lesson I’ve learned from the wilfully woebegone Williams is that I don’t want to be one of them. Look for crap everywhere and you’ll find it. I don’t want to spend my time looking for crap, because, well, it’s crap. Enough said.

3. Why do we feel guilty when we aren’t busy doing something, anything? I remember when I was working and on Monday morning in the staff room everyone would be reciting all the things they did on the weekend. I was always so amazed. How did they fit all of that into two days? They were: riding bikes for miles and miles on backroad trails while listening to a book on some big-brain topic on tape, preparing for the workshop they would be giving at the upcoming international conference; hosting music evenings with an international sampling of homemade, organic, vegan appetizers; watching a teleconference on new cognitive research and taking notes for the distance education course they were taking; participating in a stream-cleaning event before driving their children to two separate provincial championships… I had done the grocery shopping, cleaned the toilets and watched the kids mow the lawn. My ideal weekend would have been to have done nothing but eat microwaved left-overs from their containers while sitting on the couch in my pyjamas. And that can only happen when your kids and husband aren’t home, which is ideal too. Heaven forbid that we should ever sit and just be. Hike to the waterfall, but then enjoy the sound of the water and the wind in the trees once you get there. Linger over that cup of coffee and savour the last bite of the chocolate cake you spent so much time making with your children. I guess part of it goes back to those sayings we’ve all heard – idle hands are the devil’s playground, or it is an idle brain is the devil’s workshop? Either way, not good. “Idleness is the root of all evil” according to Hannah More, hmm, thought that was the love of money. “Idleness is a constant sin”, gee thanks Anne Baxter. No wonder there seems to be a competition for who can be the busiest because that means you’re the best. Those of us on the couch are sluggards and sinners, actually courting the devil himself. And yet you can find also find quotes extolling the virtues of being still, sitting quietly listening to the sounds of nature or that inner voice that guides our actions too, recharged our over-extended and nearly depleted batteries. I’ve let this one go. I can be busy with the best, but I’m no slouch when it comes to doing nothing.

Speaking of doing nothing, Coronation Street will be on soon. I want to be present for it, it’s a double show. So I’m going to let go of everything else that has to be done, make a pot of tea and settle in. Now that’s a good way to spend a rainy day.

Last night we boarded the West Coast Express and headed into the city to watch the fireworks. We sat with a young woman and chatted comfortably throughout the trip. We got to Waterfront Station and then headed to Yaletown. We wandered a bit and quickly found a restaurant with an open table on the patio. We settled in and had a flavourful Mexican dinner. After that we walked down towards English Bay.

The whole area was very crowded. We stumbled down a rocky path to the beach, just to the side of the False Creek ferry dock. The brambles took offence to our intrusion and attacked my ankles. Bleeding from several small scratches, I bravely continued on and soon we were sitting on the rocks, the thin blanket barely cushioning our bottoms. We tuned our newly purchased radio to the appropriate station and waited for the sky to fully darken and for the show to begin. More people joined us on the beach as time passed. A few test fireworks went up, then the radio station began the countdown. We turned the radio up and held our breath. Familiar Disney songs played as the fireworks lit up the night. It was magical. The only small flaw was the constant conversation of two young man, holding Gatorade bottles (with added vodka I’m sure), who came down the path as the fireworks started.

When the fireworks were over we joined the crowd heading back to the Yaletown Roundhouse. By this time we had walked about 5 kilometres. I was glad I had brought my cane, it made walking so much easier, but I was still pretty sore and tired. We got off the sky train and the walkway through the terminal at Waterfront was closed. Two transit employees were directing people to go up a level and around the building. I hobbled towards them and they told me wait. When everyone else had turned to go the long way, they moved the gate and let us go through the terminal. I was very appreciative of the gesture and told them so several times.

We made it to the train with plenty of time to spare. It filled up quickly, I’m sure there were far more people taking it out of the city than went in. A young woman with four boys, all under the age of 10, arrived breathlessly just before the train left. She plunked two of them in the empty seats across from us. She held the youngest on her lap as she and her oldest son sat in the last two empty seats in our compartment. The boys across from us were pretty funny. They told us how they had hated the beach and the walk to the train, how cold and tired and hungry they were. We heard about their dad who worked really hard at two jobs but slept all day and how they didn’t have time to play because they worked all the time. The older one told us he was in construction. The younger one pulled a shell out of his shoe and said it hadn’t hurt him when he was walking because his feet were tough. They were entertaining and I have to admit, I purposely kept them talking for my own amusement. I kept a straight face when they made their outrageous statements and told their outlandish stories.

We hadn’t gone far when the train slowed and then stopped. We were told over the intercom that a police incident had closed the tracks and that they didn’t know how long we’d be delayed. Most people dealt with the stoppage with grace. The two little boys by us curled up and went to sleep. About half an hour later, the train started moving again. We rolled into our little Poco Station and walked through the quiet streets to our dark house. No coyotes prowled, but there was one insomniac sitting on the bench. We washed the dust off and crawled into bed.

Six hours later were back up and getting ready to drive back into the city for the annual Pride Parade. We had tickets for brunch and viewing at the Boathouse in English Bay. Dale dropped me off in front and went to find a place to park my Bug. I waited in line and he soon joined me. The number of people waiting gave me pause, as well it should have. When we finally got in, the second level was packed. There were few available seats and the lineup for the buffet snaked through the entire restaurant. Standing in line we saw a friend and her family. She waved us over and invited us to sit with them. Thank goodness she did! We didn’t get to eat with them because it took so long for us to get our food. They had already gone downstairs to stake out a place by the window to see the parade by the time we finally made it back to the table. When we finished eating we went downstairs too. Our understanding was that our tickets allowed us to be on every level of the restaurant but we were told the top level was reserved for a certain group and the main level for another. How they expected the rest of us to see the parade from the second level was beyond me. The street level was completely full so going outside to view wasn’t an option. Our friend ignored the directions she was given and stayed at her place by the window and we joined her. That action saved our day.

The parade was wonderful, as always. The joy and pride was infectious. All of the entries were greeted with loud acclaim. My favourite part was when our Prime Minister and his family came by. He was very animated and clearly happy to be there. The protection around him was unobtrusive but he was followed by a tactical vehicle with armed personnel. My enjoyment of the parade was mitigated by how hard it was for me to stand for such a long time. We stuck it out for a couple of hours then we left. I hobbled to where Dale had parked the car and we drove home. I was exhausted and headed straight up for a nap.

When we booked our tickets for brunch and parade viewing at the Boathouse, we though it would be an event. You know, mimosas and tasty little brunchy tidbits served as we sat near the window waiting for and then watching the parade. Instead we got one pass at a barely adequate buffet and we had to defy rules to be able to see the parade. It is so disappointing when an event is oversold and under delivered. We will have to figure out another strategy for next year.

Today has been a quiet day, perfect for a country Sunday. Let me fill you in on the last couple of days.

Mom and I went over to Nelson to visit with two of my aunts and three of my cousins on Friday afternoon.  We got caught up a little and we had some interesting conversations, mostly about getting older. Every one of us in the room had passed 50 years ago, some of us decades ago. The visit wasn’t long enough but it was wonderful to see everyone in person, rather than on Facebook.

Mom and I had an interesting conversation about her rural roots on the drive there. She told me about her life as a small child first in Ymir and then in Salmo. As it always happens, the more she told me the more she remembered. I’ve always thought that we should talk to the remaining older members of the family and record their memories. The details of those interesting, long ago events fade over time and they are an integral part of our lives because they shaped the lives of the people who raised us. Besides, it’s always fascinating, I think, to hear about how life used to be. Some things about it would be great to experience and other things about it make me glad I didn’t live then. Later that evening my younger sister and her friend arrived. Mom hadn’t stayed up so I greeted them and got them organized for the night.

On Saturday my sister and her friend took Mom back to Nelson to shop. I puttered for the morning then went to have lunch with my in-laws. It too was a great visit. I love it when conversation flows easily and naturally. On my way home I stopped at the little, but well appointed grocery store in Fruitvale to pick up spinach for a salad for dinner. When I got home, everyone was back and we three “girls” sat outside, sipping summer drinks and enjoying the warm, quiet day and each other’s company. After dinner my sister handled the feeding of the horses all by herself while the rest of us did little chores. When Mom went to bed we all went upstairs to watch TV but we talked far more than we watched. Some interesting tidbits were shared and discussed, sometimes with passion. It was late when we finally decided to call it a night.

And that brings us to today. My sister got up to feed the horses while the rest of us tried to sleep in, but not Mom, she was up before all of us. The door to my room was closed so I didn’t hear the radio in the master bedroom come on. I woke up at about 6:50 and thought I could hear voices. As soon as I opened my door the conversation about the joys of hand bell playing on the CBC morning show hit me. I turned the radio off and fell back in bed. I didn’t really sleep but I did laze. I got up about 7:15, dressed and went downstairs.

My sister was downstairs with my Mom and both the kitchen and front doors were open. The cat was outside, off on his adventures, before receiving his morning insulin shot. I went outside and started calling him. He was not within range because he did not appear as quickly as usual. I wandered around the yard calling him for a bit and then went back inside. My sister was upset because she hadn’t realized we keep him in until after his shot. I reassured her that he would return but I was concerned. We all went outside to call and he finally came slowly up to the house from the neighbouring property. I picked him up and brought him in. He got his shot and ate and then headed back out on his adventures. My sister and her friend drove back to Nelson to do the shopping they were not able to do with Mom the day before. The only stores Mom likes to visit are book stores, and they had really wanted to shop.

With the cat gone, Mom in her room and girls off shopping, I puttered about the house. I vacuumed, did the dishes, ran a load of towels through the washing machine and then picked the raspberries. Mom and I had a little visit and then I headed up to have a nap. Yes indeed, other than the minor drama of the missing diabetic cat this has been a perfect quiet, sunny Sunday in the country. Next Sunday I’ll be sitting on the patio of the Boat House restaurant in Vancouver watching the Pride Parade. I hope that day will be perfect and sunny, but it definitely won’t be quiet!

This morning started at 5:00. I awoke to the loud, persistent meowing of the cat. He was downstairs. I got up to see why he was upset. He could have been lonely, or hungry, or confused that his regular humans were gone. By coming downstairs to talk to him and give him some food I was alleviating the first two possible causes. I talked to him as I gave him some treats and I rubbed his head as he sat eating the food I’d scooped into his bowl. Then I squeezed past him on the fifth stair of the spiral staircase and went back to bed. I was asleep again almost instantly.

The next thing I knew the radio in the master bedroom was on, telling me the news was next at 6:30. I padded down the hallway and turned it off. The radio came on yesterday too. I had turned it off by pushing the first button I had seen. I was concerned that I had merely turned it off, that I hadn’t done what was necessary to keep it from coming on again, and I was right. But I figured it was a foolproof way to get me up in the morning, so I didn’t fiddle with it. Once the radio was off I got dressed and fed the horses. I thought about crawling back in bed but the cat wanted company so I stayed up.

As I sat over a cup of tea I thought about being back in the place I had grown up. It is always interesting coming back to this part of the world, to see what has changed and what hasn’t. Yesterday afternoon I took Mom to an open house to celebrate the 90th birthday of a woman who was a neighbour of ours when we were growing up. She hadn’t changed at all. I recognized her right away. We wished her a happy birthday and Mom gave her the flowers she had bought. While Mom chatted with her, I introduced myself to her daughters, although that wasn’t  needed, they knew who I was.

As I was chatting I looked around the room. I recognized a few of the faces there. The lady of the hour got up to cut the cake and so I was released from the conversation. I wandered over to look at the photo display. A gentleman peered into my face and took my hand. He said he should know me but he wasn’t sure who I was. When I told him my name he squeezed my hand and laughed. He said I was the girl who had stumped him twice, as he recalled he hadn’t been able to remember my name at my sister’s Christmas party either. I told him it was okay, that not seeing me for years it was expected that he wouldn’t remember my name. Still holding my hand he said he remembered my face though, that I was familiar. We chatted a bit, about how we can remember faces but not names. He had been a teacher too and we reminisced about how we might not remember the names of all the kids who walked though our classroom doors, but we always recognize them as one of ours.

There were other people at the open house who recognized me, probably because I was with Mom. They knew I had to be one of her daughters who lived away. Mom and I stayed and chatted for a bit, then we said our good-byes. The open house was at “The Manor”, an old folks home in downtown Fruitvale that was where the old primary school had been. As we drove away Mom and I talked about that old building. I could see it in my head;  the big windows, the wide steps leading up to the front door, the huge trees we would run around. We talked about the teachers there. I remember all of my teachers from there and a couple of ones I didn’t have. It was fun to share those memories with Mom.

As I sit here at the kitchen table in my sister’s house, in the mountains above the small town I grew up in, I realize my face may be familiar to some of the people here, just as their faces are familiar to me. But I am not the same girl I once was and they are not the people I knew. Hell, I’m not the same person I was five years ago. However, the experiences here in my hometown and the people I used to know helped shape the person I am today. Here is where I started; where my first opinions were formed, where I first decided what was right for me and what was wrong, where I realized who I wanted to be like and who I vowed I would never be like, where my feet were placed on the path that led me to today. Nothing is constant except change and that is never more obvious than when you go back to where it all started. And that is also the only place where someone will call you a girl when you’re well over 50 because to them you still are.

I have to move my car so Mom can get her car out. She has an appointment with her hairdresser soon. While she’s gone I’ll brush the hay out of my hair and get ready for today’s adventure. But whatever we do and wherever we go, we’ll have to be back by 6:30 to do our evening chores. Ahh, the inflexible demands of country living; something I must remember when I wax poetically about the fresh mountain air, the starry night sky, the unhurried lifestyle – that and the lack of a good sushi restaurant.

My mom lives with my sister and her husband. She has a lovely little suite downstairs. She spends time down there reading and catching up with her favourite TV shows. My sister and her husband have a gorgeous house on a large piece of property in Fruitvale, along with several pets and horses. This summer they wanted to get away.

I offered to stay in their gorgeous house on their large, quiet piece of property to keep my mom company. However, I learned I would also be required to look after some of their menagerie. They took the lively and mischievous dog with them, but left behind two horses and a diabetic cat. Now, let me just say I may have been a girl who rode and looked after horses once upon a time, but that was a very, very long time ago. And I have never had to look after a diabetic cat. But, I had offered and if they could do it, I could do it, right? Right?

So on Monday morning I got up and drove to Fruitvale. I stopped in Osoyoos to get a tea and a sandwich around noon, visited with an old friend in Midway around 1:30, got gas in Christina Lake and arrived at the house around 5:00. My brother-in-law walked me through the horse feeding routine and my sister showed me how to give the cat his shot of insulin. We had dinner, visited for a while and then everyone headed for bed.

I heard the horses calling out for their breakfast around 6:45 today. My brother-in-law was holding it back waiting for me. I looked out of the bedroom window and could see the horses at the fence waiting. I quickly got dressed and joined him outside. We filled the buckets with oats and got the wheelbarrow full of hay. He showed me how to put the oats in the feeding containers, making sure the dominant horse got hers first. Then he wheeled the hay over to the hay spot, scattered it and returned to the gate. I latched it as he told me about the fly spray that he had made up. If the flies got bad I was to spray it all over their bodies.

Back in the house it was time to give the cat his shot. My sister watched as I loaded the insulin, pulled up the skin on the nape of his neck, stuck the needle in and pushed the plunger. It was fairly easy. She showed me how much to feed him and where he liked to eat (up on the spiral staircase where the lively dog couldn’t get at it). I sat with a cup of tea as they finished packing the camper and then they were off on their adventure, the lively dog tethered the the backseat of their truck.

My first day, today, was quiet. I boiled a couple of eggs and had breakfast. Then I went upstairs and perused the shelves of books. I selected a couple, came back downstairs and made a new pot of tea. After several quiet hours I went down to visit with Mom. I had left the front door open as the cat likes to come and go. My sister said he likes to come in and eat several times a day. However, I didn’t see him all day. Around 5:00 Mom came up to ask when dinner would be. We chatted for a while and then noticed the weather was changing. We decided to feed the horses a little earlier than normal so we wouldn’t have to do it in the rain. As we headed up to the barn the wind picked up and we could hear the thunder starting to roll. I took the oats into the field. The horses came running for their dinner. I gingerly walked to the first feeding container and dropped the oats in. The other horse clearly wanted her oats but my brother-in-law had told me not to get in between them. So I walked way around behind the first horse, with second horse following. I dumped her oats in and walked back to the gate. Mom had the wheelbarrow ready and I took that in and scattered the hay. The horses were still involved with their oats so getting in and out was easy. And with the rain and the wind I got a reprieve on spraying them with the fly spray. You may not know this, but horses are big, even bigger close up and personal. And when you’re not used to being around them, they can be a little intimidating.

When we got back to the house I mentioned to Mom that I hadn’t seen the cat all day. We called for him and he materialized. He followed us into the house and I fed him. Now, I know cats are often lazy and their eyes are often only half opened. But, when the cat in question has diabetes and you are responsible for keeping him alive, you begin to wonder if he’s just being a cat or if he’s going into a diabetic coma. He hung around for a while, sprawled on the floor grooming himself then he went back outside.

Mom came upstairs and we got dinner ready. As we were eating the cat came back in, with a bird in his mouth. If you have read any of my other blogs you know how I feel about birds. Luckily for me, but not so much for the bird, it was dead, so there was no chance of it flying around inside the house. Oh the horror of that thought! Mom shooed the cat away, picked up the bird with some paper towels and took away, outside. We had to keep the cat in so he wouldn’t go outside, find it and bring it back inside. He was not a happy kitty, no bird and no outside.

We finished dinner and cleaned up. Mom went downstairs to have a bath and get ready for bed. Soon it was time to give the cat his shot. It went well. He finished his treats, ate some more food and then hopped up onto one of the kitchen chairs. He purred for a bit as I scratched his head. Then he hopped up and padded downstairs. He’s in for the night now, but I have no idea where he is.

I’m going to head up to the tub now. I survived my first day and so did all those souls under my care. However, I have a feeling my dreams will be full of galloping horses breaking down fences and disappearing into the mists while a thin, orange cat collapses at my feet. Yup, should be a great night.

These are in no particular order.

1. People in Nova Scotia love them some adirondack chairs. We saw them everywhere – on porches, on decks, on the beach, on the lawn,  on the boardwalks –  you name it, if an adirondack chair could be on it, it was. And like their houses, Nova Scotians paint their adirondack chairs bright colours. I loved seeing them everywhere, they’re happy chairs.
2. In Cape Breton, the diners, cafes and bakeries brew their tea in a pot that sits on a burner just like the ones they have coffee in. But the tea doesn’t taste like coffee so the pots must be dedicated just for tea. So when you order a cup of tea they bring you a cup in one hand, the pot of tea in the other and they pour you a cup. It was delicious every time, not too strong, not too weak, just delicious. And they come around with the pot to top your cup up, just like the coffee drinkers get. About time I say because putting more hot water on a used teabag in a little metal teapot doesn’t equal another good cup of tea.
3. We must have seen at least thirty dead porcupines on the side of the roads in Nova Scotia, and we didn’t drive on every road so there must have been many, many more carcasses than the ones we saw. I have no idea how many porcupines there are in Nova Scotia, but I hope the remaining ones mated well because they are dying on the roads in droves.
4. We didn’t see one moose on our trip, however, there were signs everywhere telling us to be on the lookout  for them. We saw habitat areas that would be perfect for moose, all boggy and wet. But not one moose, not one hair of one moose, nada. However, I did have this vision of moose jumping out on the road after we had driven by, high-fiving each other, maybe doing the odd chest bump, because they had avoided detection.
5. There are signs on the highways that tell drivers to keep right unless passing. We did not see one driver that stayed  in the left lane, travelling there for kilometres, making drivers pass them on the right, like they do in BC. And we didn’t see anyone driving way over the speed limit, like they do in BC. We drove about 3100 kilometres and didn’t see one a$$h@le driver. Try doing that in Vancouver.
6. There is a definite Maritime accent. It is softer than a Newfoundland accent, but it’s there. I wonder what those of us from the west coast sound like to them. The accent is most noticeable in the smaller communities, we didn’t hear it that much in the cities.
7. Everywhere we went, when we said “thank you”, we got “you’re welcome” in response. That is the correct response by the way, not “no problem” or “no worries” which is what we hear just about everywhere in BC. When I get home I’m going to petition the local and provincial governments to make “you’re welcome” the legal response to “thank you”; any other response will be subject to a fine. That should add millions to the coffers.
8. Lobster tastes good. It doesn’t need drawn butter, just crack that bug and eat it! For a change, mix it with mayo and seasoning, add some shredded lettuce and pile it into a toasted hot dog bun. Yum-yum!
9. My BC education didn’t cover much of the history of the Maritimes, and there’s a lot that could have been taught. I knew a little about the Loyalists and the Acadians but I wish I had known more before I came. I think I’ll be brushing up on that part of our collective heritage. I’ve always felt an affinity to all things Scottish, but I didn’t feel like I was coming home when we went to Scotland. Maybe I was looking in the wrong place because some places in Nova Scotia felt very homey to me.
10. It doesn’t cost anything to take a ferry or the bridge to get onto Prince Edward Island. You only pay when you leave. Interesting concept. The toll bridges between Halifax and Dartmouth cost a dollar. And the ferries and bridges don’t have the volume that BC ferries and bridges have, yet they still manage, hmmm.
11. Cortland apples are delicious!
12. Nova Scotia has a harmonized tax of 15% that is put on everything! in Halifax the accommodation tax was also added on top of the harmonized tax, a tax on a tax, how Canadian!
13. The forests of the Maritimes are beautiful but they don’t compare to the forests of BC. We saw few really big trees. On the Cabot Trail the forest floor was relatively open, with a dense canopy overhead. In other places the forest alongside the road was so dense it was hard to imagine how the early settlers got through it. There are also many boggy, swampy areas, perfect places for the moose we never saw.
14. We saw an albatross at Reversing Falls in St. John. At first we thought it was an eagle as it had a black body and black wings with a white head and tail. But when we saw it again it was clear that it was a gull-like bird, not a raptor. Later I did some interweb research and discovered it was an albatross, cool.
15. Many of the intersections in the Maritimes are roundabouts, or rotaries as they are sometimes called. For the most part they keep the traffic flowing. We only had to drive all the way around one circle when we missed the exit we needed.

This was a wonderful trip. Some of the photos will find their way onto our walls and the memories will last as long as we can hold onto them!

Yesterday we drove from Louisbourg back to Halifax. Our plan was to stay downtown and enjoy one last day in the city. Much of the way back was familiar. We had no problem navigating our way back into the city centre, even through the craziest intersection we’ve ever been in. We drove down near the boardwalk, found a hotel and checked in. We went for a walk to see the Historic Properties. It was originally built to keep the booty that privateers had legally stolen but now it houses shops and restaurants. We didn’t find it as great as it was made out to be, but perhaps that was because the tourist season hasn’t quite started, so not all of the shops were up and running. We walked back along the boardwalk and bought another beavertail at the same little hut we had frequented two weeks earlier. This time we had a cinnamon sugar with lemon one. We tried to sit at one of the outside tables but a stupid little bird wouldn’t leave us alone so we had to eat it while walking. I went back to the hotel and Dale explored some more, mostly looking for a place that sold Cortland apples. I sure hope we can find them at home because they are delicious! He returned about an hour later, his mission successfully completed. We played another game of Scrabble (I believe I kicked his butt) and then we walked back down to the Historic Properties to have dinner at the restaurant there, Gahan House. It is a craft brewery as well as a restaurant, and even on a Thursday night it was busy. We got a table for six with the proviso that if another couple came in, we would have to share. That wasn’t a problem, we’ve done that before at restaurants in Vancouver.  We took the seats by the window and ordered a sampler flight of beers. I got two dark, Dale got two light. The harbour was busy and we had a lot to see as we sat there. Dinner was great and we did have company at our table. One couple joined us, had a quick bite to eat and left. Another couple came just as we were finishing our dessert. One couple refused to sit at the end of the table, preferring to wait until a window seat opened up.

In the morning we had trouble finding a little diner that Dale had discovered online but the one-way streets and the construction didn’t defeat us. After breakfast we headed out of town. We thought the plan was to drop off the rental car before noon in Lower Sackville and then head to The Inn on the Lake. But we were able to keep the car until the end of the day and leave it at the inn, so we took advantage of unlimited kilometres and drove towards the Annapolis Valley. We took the main highway as far as Windsor and then exited. Windsor is a beautiful little town with street after street of wonderful heritage houses. We decided to head back on the old highway, to see more of the countryside. It was a good idea as we finally saw farmland in Nova Scotia. We had lunch at a full serve Irving Big Stop before driving to the Inn.

We saw several houses for sale on our drive and Dale remembered their addresses. One beauty was 5100 square feet, including a rental apartment. It is a stone castle, built in 1898, with towers and turrets. You would need to buy the contents of a furniture store to furnish that! It is well-priced as far as castles out in the boonies of Nova Scotia go, a mere $525,000. Gee, you can buy an 1100 square foot townhouse in Langley for that price! We also saw some abandoned beauties that tore at our heartstrings a little. It was a nice way to end our trip –  a drive through a pretty little town looking at amazing old houses and then winding our way home through the countryside. Tomorrow we will take the shuttle to the airport and fly home.

So, the tail end of a tropical summer storm hit the east side of Cape Breton Island today, our day to visit the Fortress of Louisbourg. We didn’t let the storm stop us, we ventured forth just as the early French colonists would have done, regardless of the weather. If our forefathers, and foremothers, had only explored and built in good weather much of Canada would still be unsettled!

A little background on the fortress:

• it is the largest historical reconstruction in North America
• one fourth of the walls and one fifth of the town have been reconstructed by Parks Canada
• it is a fortress (not a fort) because it enclosed a town
• after the fortress was destroyed in 1758 some of the stones from its walls were used in construction in Halifax and Boston
• it was built to protect France’s interest in the lucrative cod fishing grounds

The drive to the fortress was rough. The dirt road was riddled with potholes full of muddy water. We were directed to park in a grassy area and then we walked to the “yellow” house to pay the entry fee. We decided to take two tours – a guided walk and a back in time tour where three interpreters in costume would tell us about life in the 1700s in Louisbourg. We had a bit of time before the first tour so we headed to the King’s bastion. A female soldier welcomed us into the chapel and gave us a great deal of information about the building and the fortress. We left there to explore the rest of the bastion, which included a sample of an officer’s quarters and the Governor’s Apartments. The Governor, as the King’s representative, lived a very comfortable life in rather grand surroundings. The last photo is the room where he meted out the King’s justice.

We left the bastion and returned to the yellow house to join the walking tour. Our guide, Hilda, was a local woman who had a lot of first-hand colour to add to the history she delivered. We did spend more time inside buildings than usual because of the weather but we still spent some time out in the wind and rain and mud. When that tour ended we started the next. A soldier met us at the yellow house and took us to the officer’s guardhouse where a welcoming fire was burning in the fireplace. He went through how a soldier was recruited (usually with deception and treachery) and what his life was like in the new world. When he was finished, he took us outside where he shot his musket, the kids in the tour group loved that, and then he walked us to the house of a sea captain.

The mother of the sea captain’s wife greeted us and told us how the captain was away and she was there helping her daughter who had just had her sixth child, her fifth daughter. She told us of the life of the French colonists who had the means to live in warm, secure homes with live-in servants. She pointed out they lived as colonists, not settlers, so they had all the creature comforts they could afford to bring over from France. She answered a few questions and then walked us to the residence of the King’s engineer.

We were greeted by one of the servants of the residence. He led us through the chocolate trade and we were given a tiny cup of hot chocolate. It was not what we know as hot chocolate as it was not sweetened nor made with milk, but I though it was delicious. He told us chocolate was used as a form of medicine, well, duh, I’ve been medicating myself with it for years. He walked us through the rest of the residence and told us of the life of the man who designed and was responsible for the building of the fortress, Etienne Verrier. The tour was over at the end of his presentation.

The only other pictures that I took of the fortress were out the windows of some of the buildings: it was raining too hard outside and inside was too dark.

We wanted to take in some more of the buildings that were open and/or occupied with interpreters but we were too cold and too wet to continue. We made our way to the car and drove to our inn. We changed out our wet clothes and went to one of the two restaurants that was open in town. Of course by then the storm was over, so after dinner we drove to the lighthouse. The sea was still a little rough which made for some wonderful photos and a lighthouse photo op is always a good idea.

Our east coast adventures are over. Tomorrow we drive to Halifax, we drop the rental car on Friday and we fly home Saturday. We didn’t have great weather and most of the attractions weren’t up to their full operations, but we still had a great time. We even had discussions about buying and restoring an old house in Lunenburg, so I have the feeling that we aren’t finished with the Maritimes just yet.