I recently pushed away from my desk in favour of a walk in the forest with Whitman. The deadline to finish my novel looms, but a part of me called out the restorative time in nature. The October air was cool against my cheek that day and the earthy smell of fallen leaves ever present. The sumacs had turned blood red and the poplar leaves became shimmering coins against the sky.
I’ve always been fascinated by handcrafts. Crocheting. Knitting. Tatting. At one time or another, I’ve known how to do all of these things, at least in a very basic way.
My maternal grandmother shared her love of crocheting by teaching me to create circles and squares with a hook and yarn. My paternal grandmother taught me to knit and to tat. The tatting shuttle took a great deal of patience to operate. Her pillowcases and handkerchiefs were trimmed in lace created by her shuttle. I remember that she had an ivory shuttle that once been her mothers, my great-grandmother. Continue reading “Feeling Nostalgic — Knit, Crochet, Tat, Write”
Eddie Cantor said, “Slow down and enjoy life. It’s not only the scenery you miss by going too fast. You also miss the sense of where you are going and why. ” I am usually mindful of his advice, but life can become a runaway horse. Even when the source of busyness is something I enjoy, I sometimes I have to take life by the reins and call, “Whoah!” Continue reading “Feeling Nostalgic — Slowing Down and Savouring the Moment”
As I write this afternoon, I periodically glance up to take stock of the room. It’s so quiet I forget that I’m not alone. My husband is leafing through a gardening magazine. It’s a very Canadian thing, this longing for planting season while snow is still in the forecast. Continue reading “Feeling Nostalgic — About Children”
I feel a strong kinship to this woman. A few weeks ago, I sat amongst heaps of apples waiting to be cored, quartered, simmered, and mashed. It was all part of transforming a bushel of apples into apple sauce which I then canned in Mason jars. Why would I go to all that trouble when applesauce comes ready made in cute little jars at the grocery store.? The answer is simple enough — nostalgia. Continue reading “Feeling Nostalgic — Canning Applesauce”
When is the last time you did something for the first time? It’s been months since I saw this question posed on Twitter, but it’s never left me. Around two o’clock this morning, I found myself reflecting on many of the firsts that I’ve experienced in the last year. Some of them were fruits of labour, some were the seeds that came before the fruit, and some of them were pure synchronicity. Continue reading “Feeling Nostalgic — A Year of Firsts”
September is the month when children return to the hallowed halls of education to rejoin their friends for another nine months of lessons. No matter my age, I still feel the urge for back-to-school preparations. The arrival of September brings with it a sense of urgency. It feels like a time of renewal or the beginning of a new cycle. Continue reading “Feeling Nostalgic — A Rural School Experience”
I don’t smoke. Thankfully, I never have. But I was once a teenager with dreams of post secondary pursuits and tuitions that would need paying, and so, like most young people in my hometown, my summers were spent working on a tobacco farm. I’m not writing to celebrate the tobacco industry, but rather to reminisce over an experience. When I was thirteen, there was no internet. I had access to whatever television channels could be had by using an manually turned antenna. My friends and I never heard of a social movement to rally against an industry. I didn’t know of any one who’d had cancer. My employment predates the infamous Philip Morris lawsuit.
