Columnists
Stop, what’s that sound?
Stop. What’s that sound?” A massive, collective sigh of relief? Does peacefulness have a sound? I don’t think in all of my years I’ve ever been so distraught and focused with regard to politics, especially the politics of the United States of America. I know what happens to our southern neighbours has an impact on our Canadian day-to-day lives, but seriously, I just don’t remember ever being so caught up and overwhelmed by the “meth lab downstairs”. For the first time in weeks I managed to sleep through the night without a panic attack, which was usually followed by hours of being awake worrying about my USA friends and family and having the song Eve of Destruction my featured ear worm. I know it isn’t over until DJTurnip is bouncing around in the bed of a pickup truck following the Mayflower Van as he and the FLOTUS trundle along to who knows where. Indeed, anything can happen between now and moving day and I’ll save that worry for January. I remember trying to move into this house, over thirty-four years ago. For some reason, the previous owner wasn’t to be found to hand over the keys on the possession date. His mother finally lent us her key and the moving-in happened, mostly, without a hitch and with the help of a half dozen friends, their pickup trucks, cases of beer and a few pizzas. I can see the soonto- be former President hiding and holding onto the keys until someone from the Department of Housing and Urban Development comes along with the spare.
And here we are, moving into the second week of November. I’m finally getting my Zen back. As I write this, the sun is shining. The air is warm and full of promise. I see this as an omen for good things to come, even if I’m not usually an “omen getting” kinda gal. And while I am tempted to take the snow shovels and bags of salt out of “the barn,” I don’t think I’m ready to admit winter is just around the corner. Ya, ya, we had a bit of snow a few days back and that was a bit scary and a bit beautiful. As I procrastinate, I think back a couple of years when we left the winterizing of “this old house” to the last possible moment. We found ourselves struggling with the sliding doors of the barn because the ground was frozen solid. It was very tempting to head out to the Farm Store to buy new shovels and more salt, but I’m a bit of a cheapskate. LOML and I worked at the sliding door until the slimmer of us could wiggle in to fetch the winter path-makers. Sounds like a lesson there—making hay when the sun shines, and all. Since the start of November we did put most of the lawn furniture away. Side porch chairs have been spared for unexpected days, like today. The side porch is as beckoning as it was in the spring. It’s telling me, “Bring your laptop. Bring your coffee. You’re about to have a rush of endorphins or serotonin or dopamine and, definitely, a blast of caffeine.”
As I sit, enjoying this warm weather, I think about how incredibly fortunate we are to live here, and not there. “There” being the good ole US of A. As Canadians, for the most part, we have more access to elected officials. We remember those elected to any level of government work for us. We aren’t entangled in an intricate web of officials if we want to make a point federally, provincially or municipally. We have great access to great medical care when we need it, without worrying about losing our homes in the process of paying for care. We do have a lot of work to do in a wide variety of areas, but mostly, we can go to sleep at night and not be too bothered by rioting in the streets, or worse. This year I feel November will be a time of Remembrance, a time to reflect, a time to be grateful and a time to relax.
In the words of Lucy Maud Montgomery, “But there is always a November space after the leaves have fallen when she felt it was almost indecent to intrude on the woods, for their glory terrestrial had departed and their glory celestial of spirit and purity and whiteness had not yet come upon them.”
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