Over the past several decades I have seen these falls from the highway while driving past, usually in a hurry. Yesterday a friend and I took the time to climb through the park to a spot near the base of the falls.
Part of the climb was steep and slippery with loose gravel, and water seeping through the forest floor and over the path. Children, dogs, parents, grandparents; some came prepared with hiking shoes and others (like us) had no clue!
We were all awed by the sight, sounds and smells of the waterfall and forest and it felt like we were all together for one purpose. Strangers greeting each other, telling their stories, encouraging each other and lending a hand or arm when the path became almost impossible to climb up or down.
Following the hike we soaked in the hot springs, walked around the town, and enjoyed a delicious dinner and several hours dancing to live music. It was one of those unexpectedly perfect days!
Taking a break from sorting and packing, I am sitting in my lazy-boy chair and looking past another stack of boxes, out the window. The cloudy, grey sky past the green leaves of the rhododendrons, and the cedar branches is typical here throughout the fall, winter and spring.
Am I sad to be leaving? Not anymore. These last two weeks are quickly filling up with coffee dates and meal invitations from friends and colleagues who want to say farewell. Those meetings leave me more exhausted than the hours of cleaning and packing, but I will soon be off the island and able to rest.
I feel like I am already stepping into my next chapter, ready to readjust to living closer to family. In my own way I have been saying farewell to my surroundings. Yesterday I went for a walk in a park that I had not yet visited. It was where my friend’s ashes were sprinkled in the fall.
I will miss some of my friends. I’ll miss the world-class music scene, but that is so much less important to me now than it was in the past. Attending concerts causees much increased anxiety and I would rather watch them online. Distance is no longer such a hindrance to good connections.
This morning as I was searching for a particular photo in my embarrassingly large collection, I was struck by how many photos I had taken early in the lockdown of 2020 of little things. Simple moments. Observations that I had made when life had suddenly slowed down.
Life got busy again…far too busy for me to cope.
I am looking forward to the move in a few weeks and resettling in my new home, and living life while paying attention to the moments.
This photo is of my maternal Grandfather, Uncle and Great-Grandfather. Obviously, this is not a photo that I took (most in this blog are my own photos). This photo was taken in approximately 1935 at Steffen-Colmer studio in Vancouver. My great-grandfather was a police officer in Scotland, then immigrated to Canada and was a well-known inspector with the North-West Mounted Police. He was made famous helping solve the case of the “Beryl G”. It is a fascinating story, and one that we heard rumours of as children, but our family history was seldom talked about.
Two years ago I bought myself a subscription to Ancestry.ca as Christmas present. Lately, now that I’m retired again and not failing at it as badly this time, I find that doing some research into my roots is a fun and engaging activity. One of my close friends has been on Ancestry much longer than I have, and we found out that his 9th great-grandmother is my mother’s 8th great-grandmother.
This past week I came across a very interesting fact about my father’s family. Dad seldom talked about his family roots, except to say that he wanted to know more about the Irish roots (his father came from Ireland). But he never talked about his mother’s family from Sweden.
It turns out my father’s maternal grand-mother, Anna died in Essondale, BC. I had never heard of that town and being quite curious, I looked it up. Essondale opened in 1913. It was BC’s psychiatric hospital. Originally Essondale (later the name was changed to Riverview) was where the long-term mentally unstable male patients were sent. In 1930 a ward was opened for women. Anna died in 1956 at the age of 83, having given birth to 7 children in Sweden, and one more in Manitoba. Beyond that, I know very little.
I do know that my great-grandfather died in 1943 in Alberta. Their 8 children lived and died in many different provinces and states. No one seemed to live near other family members except the eldest son who lived near my grandmother. I also know that my grandmother wanted only one child. After my aunt died at the age of 4, they decided to have another child — my father. I know that I never saw any outward sign of affection between my grandparents, or from my father toward his children (or anyone besides my mother). Some things in my life are making a bit more sense even if I am filling in many blanks with my imagination.
Researching the family has been very interesting. If what I have found is correct, I have an ancestor (13th great grandmother) who was burnt at the stake in Scotland, accused of being a witch. King James VI who ordered the burning was the great-grandson of one of my other ancestors through a different line. This King James IV’s daughter was an illegitimate princess, child of his mistress. So many stories!
A few days ago on my way home from shopping I noticed this beautiful scene. The day was dark and cloudy, except at the moment when the sun was trying to appear.
Two days before my house was to be listed for sale my kitchen lights decided to burn out, hence the long walk to London Drugs to buy spare bulbs. My house sold the day after it was listed. Now I am trying to find time each day to walk and take in views around the neighbourhood that I will never see again. I have 7 weeks to pack up the house and move.
Some people consider me crazy since I am still trying to decide which town or city I would like to live in. I think I have narrowed it down, but am a long way from finding a new home. The once-in-a-lifetime snowfall that hit Cape Breton this past weekend has helped convince me that I should keep that in mind as a summer or autumn place to visit…not my permanent home.
This morning (while trying to get motivated to start tidying cupboards) I watched the movie “Belfast” where in the middle of the conflicts of 1969 a young family struggled with making the decision to leave Ireland for a better life in England. In the end they left granny behind, as she would not leave her home in the city where she spent her whole life. It made me think of how much I have wandered from home to home, never having the need or desire to remain in place. I have become used to starting over. At least this time I am not starting from zero as I did in the past.
When I moved here 10 years ago, it was to be my last move. I loved it here, and still enjoy the chance to get out and walk almost daily. The winter is seldom very cold, and the summer not too hot. The music scene here is busy and excellent, and there is so much to do when I stop being afraid to leave my house and face people. But, feeling so far away from family and isolated on an island has helped change my perspective.
I am off on another adventure, and am nervous and excited about what is next.
Sitting in my den with the window open a crack to let fresh air in, I hear an owl hooting. There have been reports (on Facebook) of owls in the neighbourhood, and my neighbour was convinced last summer that an owl ate an injured sparrow, but I have not heard nor seen one until today. It’s still dark out so I won’t even try to find it…I’ll just listen. “hoo-hoo – hoo – hoo, hoo-hoo – hoo – hoooooo”
Yesterday the realtor stopped by to look at the house and give me some advice. Since returning home a week ago I have been cleaning and tidying and sorting. The final room that requires serious attention is my den. It’s the room where everything that has no place goes until a place is found. After 10 years here, some things have yet to find a place. The shelves are filled with books and music; music that is too valuable to throw out but probably no longer useful to me or anyone else. Books that I am saving for that special day when I have nothing else to do but slow down enough to open a book.
There are framed photos of various family members, framed needlework that my mother did years ago, framed artwork from children and students, souvenirs of travels, trophies, CDs that haven’t come out of their cases since moving here, and junk.
My home won’t be listed for at least another week, after the cleaning is completed and the photographer takes the photos. I have one more week to not be concerned about next steps. Then I’ll start spinning….
“If you’re feeling frightened about what comes next, don’t be. Embrace the uncertainty. Allow it to lead you places. Be brave as it challenges you to exercise both your heart and your mind as you create your own path toward happiness; don’t waste time with regret. Spin wildly into your next action. Enjoy the present, each moment, as it comes, because you’ll never get another one quite like it. And if you should ever look up and find yourself lost, simply take a breath and start over. Retrace your steps and go back to the purest place in your heart…where your hope lives. You’ll find your way again.”
This is the pathway we walked at least twice a day for the past week. All along the route the boys were making big discoveries — remnants of the New Year’s Eve fireworks, sugar beet roots, sticks large and small, cow manure, large ruts of frozen mud — anything that grabbed their attention.
Today was my last full day in Germany. The boys were so careful to wake me gently this morning to walk with them to kindergarten. They were excited to see me again at noon for the walk home.
During the afternoon we played outside, making teeny tiny snowballs out of the few flakes that fell. We went for walks again along the pathway and through a magical part of the forest which I had not yet seen.
The conversation throughout the day with my daughter and son-in-law has been more tolerable and sometimes even enjoyable, as I have become more aware of which questions can lead to conversations about political issues or about the mysterious illness that the Naturopath is advising and treating.
I had been dreading this trip for months and was very hesitant about coming here but I’m glad I followed through with it. My grandsons are the sweetest boys I have ever spent time with. Healing the rift between my daughter and I will still take time but I am starting to see some hope.
Today we went on a couple of walks — one to a nearby park and lake, and the other was just in the neighbourhood to watch the boys ride their bikes and to check in on their hens.
The photo above was taken on Friday. My daughter has some connections in the music community and made arrangements for me to play two of the local pipe organs. This pipe organ, built in 1731 and most recently renovated in 1984 was a true delight to play.
When I am playing the organ my mind can wander all over the place. I forget about the concerns of the day and get lost in the music of Bach and other composers. JS Bach died in 1750, almost 20 years after this organ was installed. He wrote for organs just like this one!
Whether it’s playing children’s Yahtzee or building Lego firetrucks with my grandsons, exploring local pipe organs, or long walks, I will leave Germany with some fond memories.
Only four days and I am almost at my limit. The constant stress from their attempted indoctrination has been difficult to take without arguing or even responding in any way. I have almost run out of ways to change the topic, while at the same time trying to be careful to let them know that I am listening and love them.
Everything is poison including salmon, frying pans, electricity and especially wifi. I am permitted only a brief period of internet access between the boys’ bedtime and when my daughter has finished her emails.
According to my son-in-law the government in every country is controlling the citizens in every way possible to benefit only “them” —I assume he is referring to the deep state but of that I am not sure. Vaccinations and western medicine of any sort are yet more ways “they” are controlling the citizens, poisoning us and manipulating us. My daughter agrees with all that and more. I am very thankful my daughter and son-in-law were not on this path until after my previous trip to Germany with my father several years ago. I know that I must keep my thoughts to myself or I risk more alienation and might never be able to see them again.
I am halfway through the 7 day visit, and will pull myself together. Today was a slow day — mostly resting and watching the boys play. Now that they are in bed we will restart the careful conversations.
The photo above was taken on the way to kindergarten on Wednesday. Look at it carefully—each house is watching and waiting for a misstep. (Trying desperately to not take things too seriously!!)
There are rumours of a pending protest starting Monday all over Germany. The farmers and many other unions and organizations are threatening to stop all activities and block highways for at least a week. My flight home is scheduled for Tuesday.
My daughter lives in a rural part of western Germany and to get to any airport we have to drive on the autobahn…which may be blocked. On the other hand, my flight is at 6:30 a.m. and I am hoping the farmers and truckers will be home sleeping at 4:00 a.m.
Until then I have 3 more full days of walks, talks, board games and Lego building. And of course the daily visits with the 6 hens.
Reflections 