dry again, oh so nice

What an amazing weekend. We woke at a ridiculously early time so that we could be at Algonquin to start paddling, got our gear stashed and did some playing at the foot of the rapids to refresh our memories, then we were off. And then it started raining. Thankfully, it was a nice light rain and really not too bad. The first day included a few rapids, some portaging, and some still water paddling. Very nice. The sun came out and there was blue sky to be enjoyed; after one rapid D and I got well ahead of the others for a bit and just enjoyed the silence, the spicy smell of the pines, and the sight of the smooth water, the rocks just visible under the surface as we swept past, the depth of the woods as we looked into them. Beautiful. I do love the woods.

Upon arriving at the end of the last 750m portage, serendipity's rockstar hubby (hereafter SRH 'cause that's just too long) gave us the lovely surprise that the ranger cabin there, normally off limits, was in fact booked for us. SRH was duly dubbed the king of foresight. Especially at 1:30 am when it started to POUR, which continued for the next several hours. The next morning was sunny for breakfast, then we were on the way again for a mostly dry day, except for the inevitable water splashing in the front of the boat during rapids. A few more rapids and portages, including one that required goat-like agility on the rocks, many more laughs as we yelled things from boat to boat, and we were at campsite #2. SRH set up a zipline that the guys enjoyed, but the girls were just not looking forward to getting wet again.

We enjoyed a fire and yummy supper (serendipity's chili officially ROCKS), then all to bed early after a long day paddling. Then it started - rain all night, sometimes light, sometimes a downpour. It was deafening in the tent. But we were mostly dry, just that sort of damp-all-over feeling. Breakfast again, then the last few swift sections and a few lakes to end the day. We'd travelled 50km down the Petawawa River, and felt tired but had a good sense of accomplishment. We had a church service on the shore of the lake, singing some songs together and D sharing some things, and topped it off with a baptism in the lake as HC decided to take a stand to live his life for God. Very cool, and it firmed up the thought in my mind that there is no church building as beautiful as creation itself.

I'm tired, I'm dry again, my stuff is in the washer, the tent hanging up to dry, my shoulders sore, and I am relaxed and happy and looking forward to doing it again. We hope to do a very small version with the girls later this summer; the canoeing and camping adventure would excite them to no end.

the love boat

It has been a good week. While we have not accomplished great loads of work like rebuilding a barn, we have had good family time and D is more rested than I've seen him for a long time. That's a success in my books. Today, though, we clean up the house and pack for our canoe trip this weekend.

There is something about canoeing that I love. It's easy to see the romance of it that has come down through the years; the way the boat silently slides through the water, the gentle sound of the paddle cutting into the water, then dripping a little trail of ripples behind. I went out one morning on a lake in Nova Scotia by myself last summer and was alone on the lake but for the cormorants and loons. The rising sun cut through the lake mist, making it all golden, and I felt wonderfully alone, gliding along and taking photos - this one was my favorite. So peaceful, so serene.

The canoeing this weekend will have times like that, but there will also be portages with 70-lb packs, white water, and back country camping. The white water has its own beauty, watching the cascades and hearing the roar. Then there is the little plunge into it, the chill of the water spraying over the front as I reach forward to paddle, feeling the adrenaline rush as I dig into the water. Then the front rises up and I laugh, realizing that I can't reach the water for a fraction of a second, then we're down again and I grab at it. The boat rocks a bit from side to side, but I don't dare grab the gunwales as that's a shortcut to tipping, so I try to move with the boat and keep looking ahead. D is steering behind and yells "draw!" as he spots the characteristic water flow over a submerged rock, so I reach out and pull sideways and then, all of a sudden, we're through. The river is again smooth as glass, the current strong, the water clear.

We'll be in a boat for about 8 hours each day, so in a way we're stuck together - but last year I loved this; we could be by ourselves or beside other couples, but we talked about ideas and dreams and the kids and us. It was lovely.

dad and mom

I have little to write about today; last night R & M and I camped in the tent, while D and A stayed in the house and then left early for some Dad-daughter time and some errands. This morning I've taken down and packed away the tent, put away the other gear, set up our 3-man tent to confirm all is good for the weekend, and packed that away too, and rescued a grackle from some very territorial chickens. This afternoon I plan to make much strawberry jam form the berries R and I picked yesterday. The weekend and its camp/canoe trip in Algonquin is coming quickly.

So today, without much to say about the day, I will write about people. What got me thinking on this is talking to my mom this morning and having her say "I read on your blog..." - words one doesn't really think of their parents saying. I'll keep it short as I could ramble on for some time and completely embarrass them. Then again, I may do that anyway. I think too I am realizing that I can remember when my parents were the age I am now, and I'm realizing that someday the girls will have memories of me too.

Mom. This lady is wiser than she gives herself credit for; many of the things we have talked about over the years have influenced my life, for the better I hope. From teaching me to knit (at which I am miserable) to cooking (at which I am much better), to making me practice piano when I DID NOT want to, to the late nights she stayed up baking before Christmas. I remember little insignificant things like how I would curl up on the floor of the car by her feet during long drives (yeah, like we'd ever do that now), and how when Dad was away we'd take turns sharing the bed with her. I always knew she supported me ... not that it was said in so many words, but I just knew. I remember her making me go in for extra help when I did badly on a test and should have done better, but I also remember her taking my case to the principal when I was unfairly marked on a test. She epitomized for me a person with the gift of hospitality. She continues to surprise me; it wasn't until we moved to the farm that we started hearing all these stories about her childhood on the farm, stories I had never heard before.

Dad. If a guy could go on about how he's smart and everything, he could - but he never did. I didn't know until I was in university that when he wrote his chartered accountancy exams, he had the top marks in the whole country. Dad always had a sort of quiet strength that I depended on; a humble but very able leader. To this day I remember with great fondness our early morning outings on the golf course in PEI - I didn't golf most summers, but I walked and we talked. What about? Not much I can recall, except DON'T jingle change in your pocket when someone is setting up a shot, and rake the sand traps after you're done. The key thing was the time together. I think that is what warms my heart to see D making one-on-one time with the girls a priority: I know how they will remember it someday. I remember squishing into the lazyboy chair with him, watching TV or puzzling over just how he knew all the answers in the crossword.

Much more I could say. I know it's rare, and the more I live the more I see just how rare it is. I hope I have not taken it for granted, though I'm sure there are times that I have. To count Dad and Mom among my best friends is a true privilege. I hope we can be parents like that to our girls.

camping and cow chasing

Last night we set up the tent in the yard, had a campfire and fed the local mosquito population quite well. It was a bit chilly but the girls loved it. This morning I woke to the sound of cows mooing and something didn't sound quite right about it - the location was wrong. But hey, it was 4:30 and the brain wasn't completely awake yet, right? So I got up around 6:45, let out the chickens, started a little fire and put the coffee pot on the camp stove (campfire coffee is one of the things I love about camping), and thought about breakfast: scrambled eggs with basil and chives, bacon, maybe a bit of oatmeal. Then I heard it again: definitely mooing, definitely from our neighbours' place. They don't have cows. Uh oh. I walked over to the fence between the trees and saw them - the cows from our property, happily munching away in the neighbours' field. Great.

After a trip to the chicken coop to grab some grain in a pail I walked through to their property and started banging on the pail and yelling "ho,ho" - the farmer has trained them to come to that. So between "ho, ho" and "come on, you stupid bovines", they realized that I had the magic pail and started trotting my way. I felt a bit like the pied piper, walking along with the herd trailing behind. After a bit of backtracking, heading them off away from my veggie garden, and some more grain, we have them all in the field. All was greatly helped by D, who caused something of a stampede when they realized he had not one, but TWO lovely buckets of grain and set out to follow him.

I did manage fried eggs and bacon for breakfast, but my coffee was a burnt little residue at the bottom of the pot.

infestations

Well, maybe just one more "in" title. It fits, anyway.

Friday was a bit of science at the farm after A came in worried about little bugs on her arms. They looked like little specks of dirt but they were moving. She immediately went into the shower after I also saw them in her hair, her clothes went in the wash, and I went out to the barn. Sure enough, there were more of the little things and just standing there I realized they were on my shoes and heading up my leg. Ew. I got a couple into some rubbing alcohol and got out the cheap little microscope I'd picked up at a yard sale. I couldn't have ID'ed them without it, since to the naked eye they were mobile specks of dirt, and under a magnifying glass they just looked like larger mobile specks of dirt. Sure enough, at 100x magnification I could see it clearly - legs, head, and body: bird mites. The swallows who had nested just about where A was playing were quickly but gently evicted after I determined that they (not the hens, thank goodness) were the source of the mites - the young had grown to the point that they could fly, so their safety wasn't a concern. We sprayed the area; they were even on the girls' bikes and the top edge of a plastic play structure had what looked like dust but on closer looking was literally hundreds of mites.

Yesterday, Canada Day, we celebrated in not-so-grand-but-really-quite-nice style, coming home after church to rest and have a wee nap, then joined by good friends D&J for dinner (venison chops ... mmmm; strawberries with balsamic vinegar - yes really, trust me, it works) and a visit, then after dark our own little fireworks show, put on by D.

This morning we slept in, a very nice thing in and of itself, but not something I want to do all week. I wake up feeling like half the day is gone. Those early morning hours are so good for getting stuff done. I was the first one up, though, and on my way out to let out the hens, Sam the dog stopped to sniff the Havahart trap, to be greeted by a sudden outburst of furious growling. I jumped back a couple of feet, startled, then realized that the stupid thing had finally worked and we had a raccoon trapped. Apparently all the times we have been trying to catch the critter we didn't realize a very important part of setting the trap: apparently you're not supposed to intend to set it. There's the trick, you see. The one night this week we didn't bother to intentionally set it, and we have success. The only thing resembling bait in the trap was the empty chicken bone from the attempt before.

After I put the curious dogs back in the house, the girls came out to see the raccoon, who by now had lapsed into strategy B: "look very cute and nice so the adults will be swayed by the kids to let you live". R thought it adorable, A wanted to make a pet of it, and M kept saying how it was "sooo cuuute". So we had a wee lesson on farm pests. I reminded them that it was one of these that attacked our hens, and given half a chance, this one would very happily kill one or more of the chickens. They did understand that, but still thought it very cute. So we had a little illustration; D let the dogs out and as soon as Sam came close, the coon started hissing, then did its roaring and growling. The girls understood it then: this is not a cutesy little pet.

But on to today: the clothesline is being fixed, the grass cut, D is here on a week of holidays (hooray!), and tonight we hope to sleep out in the tent across the creek for a bit of camping. The gardens need work, the barn needs more cleaning in the mite aftermath. It's sunny and we have a good day ahead of us.