Sorry I haven't been posting but I'm having a major rethink on the format of the book, more specifically, the Reflections chapters. If I go through with it, it's going to entail a considerable amount of work, work which doesn't really appeal to me in the summer months. Consequently, my self-imposed planned fall publishing deadline, simply isn't going to happen.

I also am a little disappointed in the number of visitors to these pages so don't know if I will even continue making entries. the purpose of this blog was to see if there was any interest in A Few Acres of Snow and I believe I have an answer to said question. At any rate, I believe the whole project will benefit from a summer hiatus.

To those of you who have been visiting, thanks for looking. Have a wonderful summer.

Update August 24, 2014
A theme which came out of the writing to this point, emptiness/sunyata, will, I believe, serve to give more substance to the spiritual aspect of the book as well as be the glue which holds it all together. I have begun researching the matter in earnest both from a buddhist and quantum mechanics perspective and am rediscovering some of the excitement I had when I began this project. 

Travels With Molly

Sunday, June 29 

Been on the road so no entries for over three weeks! Left for Friday the 13th in Port Dover on Tuesday. Too many black-flies to do anything outside so I figured I may as well be on the road as sit around here thinking about going. Took the Port Perry route again but missed a turn somewhere which added one half to one hour of travel time but it didn't matter. Arrived in London in late afternoon. This was Molly’s first extended trip in the rig and she did amazingly well. In London she was reluctant to get out of it in fact. Later as we were all in the back yard she disappeared. We found her lying in the side-car. Eric had told me to put the bike in the garage and when I opened the door to show him the rig around 10:00 p.m. Molly dashed in and settled down in the car again. It took some coaxing to get her out. I think she was afraid I was going to leave without her. 

Went by the school on Thursday – it was pouring rain so left Molly at Eric’s. Tim and I went to visit Paul that evening at his house.

Friday the 13th was overcast with intermittent light rain but we barely got wet at all. Picked Chuck up at St. Mary's High School in Woodstock and got to Port Dover about noon. Those attending included Molly and me, Eric, Mike and Dany, Chuck, Steve and his friend Dave. Also saw Brian Linn there. Molly stayed with us most of the time except for the last hour or so when I tied her in the side-car. When we got back several people told me that she wouldn’t let anyone near the rig. As soon as they got too close she would start barking and snarling at them. I guess this means she has taken ownership of her side-car. 

Chuck, ever the film student, somehow came up with the idea that it would be a good place to film a fight scene between a couple of ‘bikers’ as played by Mike and Steve. No sooner had they begun fighting, preceded by lots of yelling, than we were swarmed by a dozen cops, members of a swat team with automatic weapons at the ready screaming to break it up. It took some doing to convince them that we were just doing a film shoot and that we meant no harm. Come to think of it, it was a pretty dumb thing to do considering that we were in the midst of 50 000 or more bikers all there to have a good time. Got to say it was pretty scary and they were some pissed off, but they finally left with a warning not to try anything like that again or we’d all end up in jail. Welcome to Friday the 13th! 

Stayed for Father's Day at Lisa's insistence, Jen and the kids as well as Gale and Caitlyn came over. A really pleasant time. Came home Monday – a perfect day for a ride.

I left on June 29th for the Ride for Sight. Arrived in early afternoon. Mike and Dany arrived about 7:30 Friday and Jay, Steve and Rick arrived on Saturday as did Don, Mike's old neighbour, much to our surprise. The weather was perfect all weekend. Saturday night we all, with the exception of Don, did mushrooms. They added a nice touch to the evening. I lasted until about 2:30 am Mike and Don were up until about six so, needless to say, we had to wait around to get Mike up – about 2:30 or so, as the rest of us were up relatively early – me at eight. 

 After the Ride for Sight I went back to London so I could attend graduation at Cleardale. I'm glad I went because MacKenzie (have forgotten her last name) mentioned me in the valedictory address – something like "And then there's Mr. Birtch who taught us computers. There's just something about him that makes him so loveable." Quite a compliment! Got to admit it almost brought me to tears. Unfortunately I didn't get to talk to her afterwards as I was cornered by some former students and parents who wanted to say hi and hear about my exploits in the bush.

Returned on Wednesday accompanied by Gord Ritchy, the father of some of the kids I’d taught at Cleardale.. He stayed the night and left about 9:30 Thursday morning. The ride up was extremely hot, 35°C.

All this travelling is taking me away from here much too often and I still have the Bluesfest coming up next month. Oh well, I am having a great time and should be thankful, I suppose, that I have the freedom to do so. And even though I dislike riding the rig, it’s the only way I could attend all these bike events without leaving Molly behind. Well worth the sacrifice.

People

People

I have never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude

Thoreau

I went to Bancroft to get away, not just from the city but from people as well. Not that it was my intention to shun people entirely for I knew that family and friends would be up to visit me frequently and I welcomed their presence, to a point. The other consideration is that I would have neighbours who, at the very least, would be curious about me. For my part I did not plan on going out of my way to befriend them, nor was it my intention to go out of my way to avoid them. If my neighbours chose to seek me out, then I was fine with that but, beyond a polite wave or quick nod at chance meetings on the road, it would be up to them to make the first move. And it was pretty much of a sure thing that they would seek me out. Surely they’d be curious about the loner from the city living in the tiny house on the hill with no electricity or water. I don’t mean to sound antisocial here, but at that point in my life that’s where I was at. I was there to figure out just who this new me, this 55 year old, single, retired individual was and too many people too much of the time might get in the way of my quest.

The Neighbours

...

And so it was that I, accompanied by my son-in-law, made the inaugural trip in mid March of 2002 to what I came to think of as my little piece of paradise. As we were unloading the truck on the road and preparing to carry our gear up the hill to the cabin (the driveway was impassable due to accumulated snowfall) a truck pulled out of the drive across the road. The driver stopped, we introduced ourselves - his name was Sean - we talked briefly, ... what stayed with me was his declaration that I would now be living on Copperhead Road, a reference to the Steve Earle song of the same name. Seems a neighbour up the road a piece had been arrested for operating a marijuana grow-op. 

...

Getting back to my actual arrival, as predicted, it wasn’t long before the second of my neighbours made an appearance. 

As it turns out the whole incident gave me cause to fear for my life. I was outside puttering about in the clearing near the house when a movement on the drive caught my eye. Turning to take a closer look I beheld one very intimidating monster of a dog lumbering up the drive, a one hundred seventy-five pound Shepherd Rottweiler cross, I was soon to learn. His colouring and body shape most resembled a Shepherd, one giant of a Shepherd. The immense block that was his head had Rottweiler written all over it as did the squarish powerful looking jaw. I wasn’t sure if I should stand my ground or make a desperate dash for the house, not that the dog’s demeanour was threatening - I wasn’t even sure if he’d even noticed me yet. As I stood there frozen in indecision, a voice from somewhere down the driveway shouted out words of reassurance, anticipating my reaction no doubt, at the sudden appearance of this unknown and menacingly huge creature. The voice assured me that I was not in any danger, and none too soon because it was at that point that Buddy spotted me and loped over to offer a big sloppy hello.

And so it was that I met neighbour number two, Bancroft Eric as he came to be known, the Bancroft part to distinguish him from London Eric, a frequent visitor. True to his name, but belying his appearance, Buddy didn’t have a mean bone in his body. In fact, Molly, at about a quarter of his weight, was definitely in charge when the two of them were together. 

After introducing himself and his companion, Eric immediately proceeded to “Get everything out in the open.” explaining that he’d prefer to fill me in on his history before someone else did. Aha, Mr. Copperhead Road himself I presume. 

...

A Night Time Visitor

Friday, May 16

Startled out of a deep sleep at 2:30 this morning by Molly’s barking. And this was no ordinary barking. I had never heard her this excited before. Suspecting that something big was about to happen, I hurried to get out of bed, almost losing my footing on the ladder. Molly was going mad at the large window of the addition. As I passed the cupboard, I grabbed the flashlight and rushed to the window. When I looked outside the only evidence that anything was amiss was that the large plastic bin which had contained two large bags of bird seed had been flipped over. Both bags had been ripped open and the seed scattered every which way. Given the weight of those bags I immediately knew there is only one animal which could have managed to flip that bin over and even though I didn’t see it, I knew that I’d had a visit from a bear. It’s also the only thing that would explain Molly’s reaction. I decided to venture outside and salvage what I could of the bird seed by placing it back in the bin. Don’t mind admitting that I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea at the time. For all I knew the bear was hiding out in the nearby clump of cedars waiting for things to calm down again and who new how it might react to my messing with its new-found food supply.

Back in bed, my adrenalin flowing, all kinds of scenarios began to run through my head. What if the bear hand’t been satisfied with just bird seed? What if it had caught scent of the other large bin in the screened-in porch which contained Molly’s food? From there it would have been a simple matter for the bear to break down the front door and enter my tiny little cabin leaving me with no means of escape. I have no idea how long I lie there, imagining all sorts of alternative endings to this little incident but I finally convinced myself that, just as Molly had succeeded in scaring the bear off at the back of the house, she surely would do the same should it return.

Found further evidence that our visitor had been a bear when Molly and I went for our morning walk. Just at the edge of the bush by the spring I found some fresh bear scat, bird seed and all. Mystery solved.

...

When I told Sean about the incident last night he said that he’d spotted a bear on my property the last two springs and wouldn’t be surprised if it had a den somewhere nearby.

Robin Song

Friday, May 2

...

Yesterday we received our first significant spring rainfall, a warm, gentle, cleansing, life-giving downpour which began in the early hours of the morning and ending an hour or so before noon. As the rain was subsiding, my first thought was that this might be the perfect opportunity to photograph the mosses and lichens coating some of the rotting logs which I’d been keeping an eye on. The same logs which, later on in the season, I hoped, would provide me with a feast of tiny puffballs as they had the previous summer. So I grabbed the camera thinking I would take advantage of the special light that follows a recently ended spring shower and which serves to bring out the rich saturated colours of the forest. I called Molly, who’d been snoozing by the door, and we headed down the well-trodden footpath to the bush. As we stepped into the shadows the rain’s impact was immediately apparent. Lush green mosses in an infinite variety of textures and shades of green were everywhere as were the newly sprouted wildflowers forcing their way up through the previous fall’s mat of decaying leaves. I was delighted to discover that the small spring that I’d nurtured last fall was flowing freely again. The air was alive with the scent of new growth.

I don’t know what it’s like in other parts of the world but where I grew up in southern Ontario there was, immediately following a spring rainfall, an occurrence which could always be counted upon to announce the joyous occasion that it was. True, there were, and are, other indications that spring has arrived, but none marks the season more joyously than the celebratory song of the robin which inevitably follows a spring shower. Certainly there are other songs such as those of the many variety of finches which are more variable and melodic, but it’s the absolute simplicity and repetitiveness of the robins’ call, the ease of recognition identifiable by even the most amateur of bird fanciers, that makes it the harbinger of spring that it truly is. And nothing brings out a robin’s need to sing more than a spring shower such as we’d had earlier that morning.

The border between my property and that of my neighbour to the west is marked by a change in vegetation, mine of much older growth, predominated by conifers - cedars, balsam fir, pine and spruce with a small percentage of hardwood mostly poplar and birch and aspen popping up here and there whereas the neighbour’s is entirely made up of hardwoods, maple being the predominant species.. The transition is by no means a subtle one as would be the case if nature had been solely responsible and is, undoubtedly, the result of intentional interference by man. But today there was another even more striking difference for as I approached the neighbour’s bush, the still silence at my back was replaced by a growing din. The sounds which drew me ever closer were unprecedented in my experience to the extent that I could barely believe my ears for what I was hearing was not that of a solitary robin or even two or three but, it would seem, dozens, possibly hundreds . But I was not prepared for the sight and sounds which greeted me upon breaking into the more open vegetation. The trees were filled with hundreds of robins all joined together in chorus, singing their hearts out. Scarcely believing my eyes and ears, I stood, mesmerized, in awe of nature’s splendour, of my good fortune to have witnessed such an event. 

As if this weren't enough to absorb, as I was relaxing on the hill by the solar panels later on, I heard an elk bugling off in the direction of a nearby meadow. Perhaps he too was celebrating the rain.

Incidentally, no sign of the porcupine again. I guess that's a good thing as I really do not want Molly tangling with one. 

Molly's Ride

Tuesday, April 15

...

The rig arrived Sunday about 10:30 a.m. Alison, being the only one of the three of us with any experience driving the thing, was the obvious choice to manoeuvre it up the partially frozen driveway. The ice stopped her once but with a little coaxing from her husband and me she managed to make it to the parking area about  half way between the road and the cabin. That would have to do for now and at least it’s not visible from the road. 

I have spent the last couple of days working with Molly to get her accustomed to the sidecar. She's still a little hesitant about getting in but with a little coaxing, and a treat or two, she’s been hopping in and is beginning to relax. This, of course, is with the bike not running. When I start it up it’s an entirely different matter. As soon as I start to crank it over she’s out of the car and headed for the house and no amount of coaxing will get her back down there again. I have now rigged up her leash such that it’s too short for her to escape.

A huge step forward today as we managed a small circle around the parking area. It would be stretching the truth to say she enjoyed it but she did tolerate it, looking extremely apprehensive the whole time but we got through it. All in good time. After all it’s only been a couple of days.

April 27

...

Started bike with Molly in the sidecar on Saturday and she didn't flinch at all – progress! Same thing today. 

Took the bike out today, no Molly, with the intent of going around ‘the block’ to practice turns but got less than half way round when I suddenly found myself in the ditch, still upright, but shaken. Turns out that the bolt fell off the bottom end of the shock absorber allowing the car’s fender to slam down onto the tire which had the same effect as slamming on the brakes. This in turn, swung me to the right placing me at right angles to the road and ultimately, as I said, in the ditch. Mustering up all my strength, I raised the car up with one hand while I jammed an allen wrench into the bolt hole and ever so carefully limped back to Sean’s to see if he might have a bolt that would fit. He didn’t, but he suggested I go to the service centre on the east side of town to see if they had one. Turns out they did. My stomach still does flip-flops when I think about this little incident and what might have happened if I’d been barrelling down the highway at twice the speed. It's also a good thing I didn't have Molly with e as an incident like this might have frightened her off the sidecar for good.

April 28

In the afternoon Molly and I went to town on the rig! She’d mastered sitting in the car while I started it up so I figured we'd give it a shot. I tied her in and she did make a feeble attempt to  make a break for it once but that was it. She did amazingly well. A few times she tried lying down but she got up as soon as she was down so her comfort zone is a little narrow yet. Stopped for gas and no problem. Also no problem all through town. Went to Birch Creek to show Robin the rig, let Molly out and when it was time to go she barely hesitated to get back in.

April 29

...

Molly did well again on the trip although she didn't really want to get in the sidecar initially. Whenever we stop however she’s always in good spirits and, when I’m ready to go, she jumps in readily. 

...

On a more pleasant note, when I was at IGA earlier there was a family standing around their van. There were a couple of young girls not looking very happy and then one of them spotted Molly in her side-car and she was transformed, got a big smile on her face, then told the rest of the family to look and they all stood there grinning ear to ear. Whenever I think I'd like a regular bike - I really don’t like the way the rig handles - I only have to think of all the people who, upon seeing Molly in the sidecar, crack a smile and I know that it's worth it to bring so much happiness to so many people. A regular bike is fine but for me and me alone – selfish I know, but I do think about it.

...

Also stopped at the butcher shop and bought frozen organic hamburger, bison sausages and a couple of pickerel filets. Hope I can eat them before they go bad. The lady there made a big fuss over Molly, of course, and everyone was smiling and commented on Molly and the rig at IGA.

...

Went to town on the bike for a few groceries including a prime rib steak from the butcher. The butcher lady really looks forward to my visits it seems, nothing to do with me, but she adores Molly and the fact that she has her own ride. She, Molly, came out of there with about a quarter pound of baloney. A little later, still in town, some guy got all uptight, honked his horn, gave me the finger and had a few choice words, which I echoed right back at him. I’m not at all certain what his problem was. Something to do with pulling into the driveway at the grocery store. I think he may have thought I was going to pull out on him or something. Anyway, I'm sure I did nothing wrong so screw him. Why is it that for every warm, caring person we meet, there has to be some asshole to try and ruin our day. Well, sorry to disappoint asshole, but the butcher lady wins this one. Enjoy your day.

...

Been on the road so no entries for over three weeks! Left for Friday the 13th in Port Dover on Tuesday. Too many black-flies to do anything outside so I figured I may as well be on the road as sit around here thinking about going. Took the Port Perry route again but missed a turn somewhere which added one half to one hour of travel time but it didn't matter. Arrived in London in late afternoon. This was Molly’s first extended trip in the rig and she did amazingly well. In London she was reluctant to get out of it in fact. Later as we were all in the back yard she disappeared. We found her lying in the side-car. Eric had told me to put the bike in the garage and when I opened the door to show him the rig around 10:00 p.m. Molly dashed in and settled down in the car again. It took some coaxing to get her out. I think she was afraid I was going to leave without her. 

...

Friday the 13th was overcast with intermittent light rain but we barely got wet at all. Picked Chuck up at St. Mary's High School in Woodstock and got to Port Dover about noon. Those attending included Molly and me, Eric, Mike and Dany, Chuck, Steve and his friend Dave. Also saw Brian Linn there. Molly stayed with us most of the time except for the last hour or so when I tied her in the side-car. When we got back several people told me that she wouldn’t let anyone near the rig. As soon as they got too close she would start barking and snarling at them. I guess this means she has taken ownership of her side-car. 

Winter's Back

Wednesday, April 2

Snowed today, all day! Temperatures hovering around the zero mark. In London they’re in the mid to high teens - unfair. The long-term forecast changes so drastically from day today that I'm simply going to start ignoring it. I may have been overly optimistic in celebrating spring’s arrival.

No walks today. Molly cut the large pad on her left front paw yesterday over at the girls’ place. It was bleeding pretty badly so we came straight home where I put iodine and a bandage on it.

...

My beer is partially frozen despite storing it in coolers under the shed. So today I brought it in and will keep it in until the cold spell is over. I think I need a root cellar. 

Thursday, April 4

Snowing still! Prediction says we could get up to 20 cm. tonight.

...

Did laundry while I was in town and bought a few groceries. Used the sled to haul everything up the hill – at least the snow is useful.

...

Saturday, April 5

My radio broke the other day. It gets its power either by plugging it into my main power supply, directly from the sun through its own photo voltaic cells or by turning a small crank which then slowly unwinds charging the internal power source. Because I've had very little sun or power, I've been winding it up this week and yesterday, as it was unwinding, something must have snapped inside causing the radio to literally leap off the shelf where it was perched and crash to the floor making the crank totally useless, bending the aerial and damaging the case. This is the third radio of this type I have had, the other two suffering similar fates. 

...

Sunday, April 6

Thanking the powers that be that the sun has returned - and just in time. I have been feeling down the last couple of days mainly due to winter’s return. By yesterday evening my batteries were totally drained and it snowed off and on all day and was very dull. Add all this up and I started thinking about Val and a deep longing for things to go back to the way they used to be. I guess days like that are bound to occur from time to time. Happy to report today that I'm feeling better again. 

...

It doesn't look good for receiving the new bike next Saturday. It may just come off the trailer and have to sit there as my drive is not in any condition to receive a motorcycle even if it does have three wheels.

...

I finally got around to making baked beans this morning, something I’ve been meaning to do for some time now. Another comfort food which will taste even better with home baked bread. I used a recipe in Val’s recipe box for Canadiana baked beans – onion, green pepper, substituted beef salami for bacon, and the Canadian touch, maple syrup. 

...

Spring

Reflections 9

On Spring’s Arrival

You may tell by looking at any twig of the forest, ay, at your very wood-pile, whether its winter is past or not.

Thoreau

If there is one salient memory which has stayed with me about this particular period in my stay in the cabin it is my growing anxiety over the length of the winter.

The unofficial arrival of spring made me realize just how much I’d been looking forward to the end of what was a long, cold winter. In a single day, my mood changed from one of resignation that winter was never going to end to one of elation that spring had arrived. I’d reached the point where, despite my dislike of the city, a trip to London was looking very inviting just to get away from all of the snow and cold, the same snow and cold, incidentally, which I went there in search of. 

After having gotten over the initial shock of the sudden onset of spring, I had time to consider the fact that I’d made it, reasonably unscathed, through my first winter of roughing it in the bush. It all seemed somewhat anticlimactic thinking back on my concerns of the previous fall when winter was imminent. And, according to my neighbours who’ve been here much longer than I, it was the most severe winter in a decade or more. Only twice did I wake up in the wee hours of the morning to discover that Molly’s water bowl had turned into a potential skating rink for the resident mice. I’m also wondering where the time went. How did I possibly occupy myself through all of those long dark evenings?

I know that I slept a lot, often finding myself in bed by seven o’clock in the evening but then I was usually up by four or five in the morning not to mention extracting myself from the downy warmth of my bed on those bitterly cold nights, having to make the short descent down the ladder into the even colder temperatures at floor level to throw a log or two on the fire, or worse, to rekindle a fire that had completely died out.

... 

During the daylight hours the main activity was walking and cutting trails. And because I didn’t write in my journal every day, it’s impossible to know exactly how many days we didn’t get out but I don’t think I’d be too far off if I guessed less than a dozen. And of course there were the chores that come with living a back to nature lifestyle where most tasks can no longer be accomplished by the flick of a switch or the turning of a knob...Solar panels and batteries had to be constantly monitored...Would it be candles or low wattage lighting on any given evening.

...

The icebox also required constant monitoring - should the door be closed firmly, left just slightly ajar and how much, again all dependent on outdoor temperatures. And water, not being readily available at the twist of a tap, was always on my mind as well. Was the reservoir behind the stove full? How much drinking water was on hand?

...

There was also the risk that the truck was susceptible to thieves as it sat just in off the road, seemingly abandoned to passersby. There was at least one instance when I believe someone made an attempt, albeit a feeble one, to make off with the truck. One day around noon, Molly and I were puttering about in the yard around the cabin when she suddenly ran down the drive several metres, stopped dead in her tracks and started barking, very out of character for her. Suspicious, I walked down the drive, if for nothing else than to stop her barking. At the truck I discovered a set of foot prints coming in from the road and stopping at the driver’s door. The snow had been wiped off the window and someone had obviously tried the door handle, but that was it. I can only surmise that Molly’s barking had scared the potential thief off.  Thank you Molly

Winter's Last Hurrah

March, 2003

They were pleasant spring days, in which the winter of man's discontent was thawing as well as the earth, and the life that had lain torpid began to stretch itself.

Thoreau

Wednesday, March 5

Journalling has again been the victim of circumstance. I'll blame it on Mike and Dany who were here for a week. We had a great visit. We got 25 to 30 centimetres of snow on Saturday, their second day here, which was just what they were hoping for. Actually, it was, I believe, the heaviest single snowfall we have gotten all winter. I even got out the snowshoes to go down the drive to shovel it out. Fortunately, Sean was out with his snowblower and came over to do my drive as well. I was thankful as there was over 4 feet of snow where the plough had been by.

Mike and Dany spent most of the time out walking, tobogganing, building a quinzee etc. I cooked a turkey on Monday. During their stay we had spaghetti, of course, corn beef boiled dinner, and curry chicken which was lacking in curry. Had home-baked muffins every morning for breakfast. Oh, and I baked a pie. We also drank a fair bit of beer and wine. In fact I only have three bottles of wine left so went in yesterday and started a new batch. Also got batches of Stout and Munich dark lager so I should be all set for quite some time.

It snowed last night and most of today so we have another perhaps 20 cm on the ground. Temperatures have been up and down like a yo-yo. Last Friday, Saturday and Sunday were like spring but then it was down to -30 Monday night, cold all day today and it is warm at -4°C again. Crazy!

I have made bread and cookies so far this week. Evening and some mornings have been carving shit-on-a-stick. Actually I started the day before Mike and Dany arrived. I ended up ordering a good quality beginning carver's set from Lee Valley which arrived within 24 hours of ordering it. Wish I’d started doing this in November – would have been something to do during the long evenings although lack of light might have been a problem.

Speaking of light, my solar panels are doing a great job now that we're getting more sun – power to burn on many days. I’m thinking some supplemental wind power might be good for mid-October to late January when power was hard to come by.

Apparently March break starts today. I kind of miss the excitement of the last day of school before a break. It was always a sign that the end of the year was in sight as well – just don't have all those markers in my life now. Oh well, as I like to say, I'll manage.

...

About 11:30 PM the phone rang and it was Doug Taylor. His opening line was “I know this is an ungodly hour to be phoning but…" Right on Doug, it was an ungodly hour! He may be working midnights but I'm not. Anyway he called to report on the teepee cover estimate he got for me for which he did go out of his way for so I forgive him calling when he did. The cheapest price was approaching $600 and that's just for the canvas – no sewing or anything. So much for that idea. It would be cheaper to buy the one from Montana. The 12 foot untreated cover is US $320, 12 foot marine cover is $408.25 so we're talking $600 Canadian. And that includes steaks, ropes, door cover, lacing, and storage bay. Everything but the poles in fact. There's shipping of course and duties. I did order a book on outdoor living which Doug recommended so I will wait and see what that has for ideas before moving on anything.

You've Changed

Reflections 8

You’ve Changed

So thoroughly and sincerely are we compelled to live, reverencing our life, and denying the possibility of change. This is the only way, we say; but there are as many ways as there can be drawn radii from one centre. All change is a miracle to contemplate; but it is a miracle which is taking place every instant. 

Thoreau

“You’ve changed.” 

To say that these words, spoken by my wife Val as I was exiting the car in our driveway, took me by surprise would be understating it. Thinking back now, some fifteen years later, Val's insight was unexpected yes, but it was also an affirmation. She had said out loud what I already knew but had failed to consciously acknowledge to myself. I had undergone a profound, life altering experience.

The year was 1998 and I had just returned from my first Buddhist retreat. Having never experienced anything like it before, I had no idea what I was getting into. I really had no exposure to Buddhist teachings other than what I’d read. Time on the cushion had been sporadic and of short duration. But I yearned for more and a brief search on the internet turned up this retreat which, incidentally, was quite close to Bancroft. I only knew that the topics which were the basis of the retreat, the Buddhist concept of sunyata, somewhat simplistically defined as emptiness, and its relationship to space and the cosmos were enough to convince me to take the plunge. 

...

On the final day, as I was placing my luggage in the car and the other participants were gathering to close out the week, I had a sudden and irresistible urge to get in the car and head for home. The thought of that final gathering held no appeal for me. In fact, I had this notion that it might detract from the state of elation I was experiencing. If I simply got in the car that very moment and drove off, I knew I could carry the mood with me. 

My memory of the drive home, although lacking in details, stood in stark contrast to the drive up which was coloured with apprehension and uncertainty about the upcoming week. And now, here I was relaxed and filled with pure joy, a changed person. The next clear memory I have was of exiting the car in our driveway, looking up to see Val coming out to greet me and hearing those words.

...

Fast forward to 2002 and there I was, immersed in nature, experiencing almost daily that same feeling of wonder and awe. I am reminded that those experiences were transformative, that they initiated in me a change in the way I experienced the world, a change in my place in the grand scheme of things. Imagine the possibilities. If one week had brought about such a noticeable change what might happen when I was actually living it every day?

The major difference was that this time I had only one teacher, nature herself, omnipresent, her influence dependent only on my willingness to maintain an open mind and an un-critical acceptance of her offerings. 

True Nature

This is a piece I chose to share with my writing group in our final meeting yesterday. It's still a little rough and is only about half the original section in my book but thought I'd throw it out there anyway.

True Nature

That man who does not believe that each day contains an earlier, more sacred, and auroral hour than he has yet profaned, has despaired of life, and is pursuing a descending and darkening way.

Thoreau

Throughout this memoir a number of recurring and related themes presented themselves; a sense of wonder and awe, fleeting moments of pure bliss, an awareness that all life is connected and interdependent.  

…

The unifying theme of my journey is based on that sense of wonder that visits each of us from time to time. During those few months when I inhabited my little piece of paradise, I cannot say that a sense of wonder was my constant companion, but she did visit more frequently than ever before, almost on a daily basis, for the entire time. Not a constant companion, because her visits are, by their very nature, all too fleeting. The mere act of recognition and the subsequent urge to hold on to those moments and rejoice in their presence sends her on her way again. Whether it be a snowflake gently floating on the air, the beauty of the night sky, the swaying branches of a white pine in a gentle breeze or the sweetly scented air after a spring rain, these experiences defy description, mere words do not and cannot do them justice. The experience has to be just that ‘an experience’ but please know that it was the anticipation of such experiences that initially lured me there and, once there, enriched my experience immeasurably.

 …

But what are the insights to be ganed now that I am able to look back with the advantage of hindsight? Did I come out of my experience a changed person, a better person? The answer to both questions is a definitive “yes”.

Oh, I’m still the same introverted optimist with many of the same faults and strengths I’ve always had. What changed was not so much this me, this introverted optimist. Rather, I gained a new awareness of what it means to be an integral part of the world I live in. And that is no small feat. By meeting the daily challenges of a back to basics lifestyle I gained a new self confidence and assuredness.

More importantly, on a spiritual level, I came out of the experience with a new awareness of something I’d been seeking my entire adult life, a sense of belonging, of being a part of the cosmic consciousness. Ironically, by seeking solitude in isolation, I became more connected. In my attempt to separate myself from the insane goings on of this crazy world, the same one that had taken from me what mattered most, my wife, I ended up feeling closer to every one and every thing.

If there is one thing which I have carried away from the experience, it is the realization that all of these occurences throughout my life were glimpses into the true nature of things. The seventeen months and the subsequent looking back at the experience have brought an awareness to my conscious mind of just how important they are to my spiritual development.

Is it any wonder then that my chosen path for this chapter in my life was to immerse myself in the natural world, to make a home far removed from the glass and concrete and pavement that are our cities? If I was to find true joy and directly experience life at it’s most basic level, if I was to rediscover that same wonder and sense of belonging and oneness with everything that have visited me on previous occasions, then this would be the time and the place to do it.

New Wheels

Saturday, March 29

Journalling is suffering again. No excuse this time really except to say that it’s been an absolutely splendid week. Spent most of every day working around here. I cleaned up quite a bit around the house now that the snow is gone. Tuesday I bottled both batches of beer and I am very pleased with the taste of both of them. Also worked on the shed. Put the old window, removed from the house, in the west side, removed the door and am putting it to the left of where it was and making it wider. No problem starting the generator after the winter. Glad for that.

The driveway continues to be problematic. The spot where I dumped ashes melted most quickly such that there are many bare areas. But there are also many icy areas. Last night I arrived home about 7:40 PM and as it was dark and had been raining all day it was impossible to walk up the first 20 feet of driveway. I ended up pulling myself up along the edge with the help of the trees. After that I managed to find enough bare spots to struggle up the rest of the drive unaided.

Yesterday I drove to Sudbury and back. While there for about two hours, I bought a 1982 R100 RT BMW with sidecar attached for $8250. It's a nice rig and I felt quite at home sitting on it. Molly sat in the sidecar with only some minor coaching. This morning I saw a 1981 for 6800 US! I think I did okay price-wise. Now all I have to do is learn to ride it. The previous owner, Allison, is going to deliver it on April 12 and give me some lessons at that time. Also she already provided me with a manual about riding with a sidecar. It's from the US and is used in courses there. It's pretty scary but I'm sure I'll adapt fairly quickly.

The idea to buy a side car is something I dreamed up just recently and was set in motion by the arrival of spring and thoughts of riding again. The thing is, every time I went for a ride last summer and fall, I felt a strong sense of guilt because I had to leave Molly behind. Of course she made matters worse because she would know when I reached for my helmut or riding gear that she was about to be abandoned and her body language - ears pulled back, head down, body slouched and the ultimate plea, those big brown beautiful eyes looking at me as if to say “ Please don’t leave me here all alone.” kind of took the fun out of riding. So, I really had no choice in the matter.

The other news is that the spring is going full tilt today, it's up to the level it was at last year at this time so now because I dug the hole there's water at its origin.

Balls & Brass Monkeys

Saturday, February 15

Staying warm has been a challenge this past week with temperatures dipping to  -30°C or colder every night. Daytime temperatures have been in mid teens. It has, however, been sunny every day whci means that I have an excess of power. I am using a fair bit of wood trying to keep the place warm however.

Chuck, Ben and Bridget arrived on Tuesday but just stayed the one night. Chuck needed some film footage for school – at least that was the excuse. I think he just wanted a reason to come up, and maybe to show the place to Ben and Bridget. Ben provided the transportation but Bridget had no legitimate reason to take two days off of school except to come along for the ride. She's a cute kid, very shy and although Chuck said they weren’t an item I'm not sure I believe him.

We did some shooting, Chuck facing backwards on the Skidoo, while I drove. Unfortunately the camera froze up pretty quickly so he didm’t get much footage.

Anyway, it was nice to have them up. I made a big pot of chilli but they didn't eat any of it so I've been eating nothing else all week. Finally finished it off last night.

Lisa phoned from Fort Lauderdale, Florida Thursday night. Sounds like she's enjoying herself. The temperature was 80°F ( +22º C) when she called. It was -22º C here. Strange as it may seem, Im not the least bit envious. I am quite content to be here freezing my butt off.

On our morning walk I built a fire at the lean-to to relax for a while. I think Molly even enjoyed it. The bows made for a comfortable lie down and the fire kept us quite warm. 

Yesterday I started gathering up poles to build a teepee.

On the Art of Walking

Reflections 12

Walking

I have met with but one or two persons in the course of my life who understood the art of Walking, that is, of taking walks…

Thoreau, Walking

It only seems appropriate that since Molly and I spent so much of our time walking in the bush that I devote a chapter to this activity. After all, Thoreau dedicated a whole book to the topic. He also goes on at great length about his preference for the word saunter over walk and I must say I am in full agreement with him for it has the added connotation of leisure as in the phrase ‘a leisurely walk’. For me, a saunter is more about the journey, the goal or end point being of only secondary importance.

There are countless facets to the art of walking which relegate it to an elevated place among the wide range of choices for getting from point A to point B. Unlike many other modes of moving about, it requires no specialized equipment aside from comfortable foot-ware and even that is unnecessary in the right circumstances. Neither does it require any special training. Walking is clean, nonpolluting, silent and leaves no destructive wake in its path. It takes its time. A saunter in the bush allows the walker to move slowly, unhurried, to intimately bond with the very vegetation of the place. Frequent pauses come naturally. Every part of the body, heart, lungs, bones and muscle benefit.

...

During my time in Bancroft, it was through my daily walks that I came to know intimately every tree and fallen log and bend in the meandering trails I’d hewn. Trails through new growth and old, up and down the steepest hills where a handhold or two was needed to stop from sliding back down to the bottom. Trails where the sun’s rays were often banished by the dense canopy of stately conifers, or the dappled light where the softwoods dominated, or breaking free of the trees altogether to find the eyes assaulted by the blinding light of the open meadows intensified by the reflection of the snow-covered ground below.

It was such a delight to walk these trails on a daily basis. The best days were those that followed a dusting of freshly fallen snow when everything including the air was fresh and clean. Days when countless tracks since the last snowfall, both mine and those of the animals of the night, had been erased to be replaced by those of a single night telling a much simpler and more readable story of these creatures and their habits. Unlike myself, these same creatures seldom took advantage of my trails except to cross them from time to time. No, they had their own intricate network of byways weaving in and out of the thicker and more protective undergrowth. 

Walks in the warmer months, although enjoyable, lacked the narrative aspects of a winter walk when I might happen upon a small opening entirely covered in hare tracks, all from the previous evening giving me pause to stop and consider just what business they had there. Was it some sort of social gathering or ritual, a celebration perhaps? Were they simply frolicking with delight in the new-fallen snow? Was it some sort of mating ritual? I had no idea why they chose to gather as they did, but I often paused to speculate and wonder what it would be like to witness one of these gatherings as it was taking place under the light of a full moon. I believe it would be truly magical.

It was also on these daily walks that I felt closest to my surroundings. No matter what the previous night had been like, a walk in this wintry wonderland never failed to raise my spirits. With every breath filling the lungs with the crisp fresh air, troubles seemed to melt away and life was always good. 

Of course every walk, whether it be two kilometres or twenty, had to come to an end. But the joy of arriving back at the cabin, the wood stove kicking out the welcoming warmth as if to say, “Welcome back.” Then to grab a hot cup of coffee or tea kept warm in my absence on the stove top, put my feet up and dote upon how fortunate I was to be living the good life.