In a Dry and Thirsty Land

This summer we have been enjoying day after day of beautiful, hot, sunny weather. The downside of this is that we are experiencing drought that is devastating crops and drying up wells. Citizens are being asked to conserve water, and just this week, the city reduced the hours at the splash pads. Driving around the countryside you will see dead lawns, stunted corn fields and dusty cars. There are total fire bans all over the region. We need rain and lots of it. It is no surprise that water is one of the main topics of conversation around town. We so often take for granted that living near lake Ontario we have an abundance of fresh water, and this season's drought has made us appreciate every drop so much more.

The other day we went to check on our community garden plot. While we have enjoyed all the veggies our garden has produced so far, we are a little disappointed that what we were hoping would be a bumper crop of tomatoes is succumbing to dry rot. We were able to get a good pick of beans and cherry tomatoes though. Then we were delighted and surprised when the skies opened up above us and we had a beautiful soak of rain over the garden. There were blue skies around us and it literally only rained in the couple of blocks surrounding the gardens. I enjoyed getting soaked in the refreshing rain too. We were so grateful.

Pouring rain on the garden with blue skies all around

We were also grateful to discover a swimming hole at a nearby conservation area. We had driven past the sign countless times but had never stopped. Not only are there great hiking trails with numerous geocaches, but the conservation area also boasts a quarry. The quarry is tested weekly for water quality. It was a refreshing way to cool off and we enjoyed watching the turtles have a swim too.

The Quarry: their own little oasis

Driving home we were all very thirsty, so we stopped to refill our water bottles at a spring by the highway. Although signs warn that the water is not for human consumption, many locals go there to collect jugs of the ever-flowing, cold, clear water from the artesian well. It may not be the legendary fountain of youth, but I do believe it might just be a spring of kindness and happiness. Any time we have stopped there, if there happens to be another person there we are met with good humour that's like a conspiratorial wink. Everyone insists that the other can go first, it is always a great day, and there is invariably a one-liner ("I put an extra quarter in the meter for you").  It might just be the happiest place on earth, or in the county at least. For all the advances in technology, social media and communications, people in a community coming together over a well to meet the most basic of human needs is still a strong source of connection and joy. It is timeless and universal.

Hopefully the rains come soon. In the meantime, my thoughts are with those who are suffering the effects of drought on their farms and businesses. Well, that's my two cents worth. How about you? How are you staying cool? Are you making changes to conserve more water? Or are you in a region dealing with flooding? A penny for your thoughts?

Road Trips and Rest Stops

Now that I am a parent, every destination seems so much further away. Gone are the days of driving straight through from point A to point B. I remember when my daughter was an infant, what should have been a two hour drive took closer to seven. That trip involved nursing in the car in a church parking lot, a diaper failure that necessitated finding a store to buy a whole new outfit...You get the picture. Now that the children are older, they still seem to need frequent stops, even for short trips.

Usually you can find a public washroom, but every now and then you are stuck stopping at a place where the facilities are for customers only. We've bought sandwiches, doughnuts, chocolate and gas, just for the use of the washroom. One time we had to leave a toll highway then buy something at the closest convenience store to achieve customer status. With the extra fee for getting back on the highway, it ended up being a $10.00 bathroom break. But when you gotta go, you gotta go.

The drive to my mother's house is just under an hour and a half. We have only made it there once without having to stop part way. Knowing that the rest breaks are inevitable, I have discovered all the places en route where we can stop to "freshen up." This weekend we were driving up and my son needed to stop. Of course he couldn't wait an extra five minutes to get to the next Tim Horton's. So we stopped at a cheese factory on the highway. I warned the children that this would be a "customers only" kind of place so while they used the facilities I went and made a purchase. They had a large display of curd, what my kids refer to as "squeaky cheese", made fresh the same day. We opened it up as soon as we were in the car. I must tell you it was the best paid bathroom break ever. It was the squeakiest curd we have ever eaten. If you have never had cheese curd, the squeakier it is on your teeth, the fresher it is.

The bag of curd only lasted a few blocks, and we were slightly giddy from the sheer delight of it all. It was then amidst the giggles and squeaks that my son exclaimed, "Look! Chicken swans!" I couldn't make sense of what he was saying. "What on earth is a chicken swan?" I asked him. "You know, they're like swans, but with black necks and white on them." He was of course referring to Canada geese, but we've decided we like the name chicken swans better. Oh for chicken swans and squeaky cheese; even if it takes a little longer to get places, I wouldn't trade my travelling companions for anything.

A bevy of chicken swans by the river

Gotta Cache 'em All

As Annie Dillard says in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, "the world is in fact planted in pennies." This weekend I discovered that there are actual hidden treasures all around us. They have been there all this time and I just didn't know to look. And so we have a new hobby--we have discovered Geocaching.

I had heard of geocaching before, but it didn't really interest me as it made me think of those agonizing hours spent orienteering as a Girl Guide. I have never really got the hang of map-reading and I am a notoriously bad navigator. However, my kids were getting a little impatient waiting for Pokemon Go to be released in Canada, and when I saw a friend post online about Geocaching with her children, I thought it might fill the void.

We watched a few videos to learn how it works and downloaded the app. I was surprised to learn that many of the caches are actually small containers filled with trinkets that other Geocachers have left behind. We were going to be treasure hunting! The kids were instantly hooked. We made a quick stop at the dollar store so that we would have some items to exchange when we found a cache. We picked up a bag of colourful ping pong balls, stickers and some tea light candles. A pen is also an essential part of a Geocaching kit, as once you find a cache you need to sign the log book, as well as marking it on the app.

My mother came along with us and we looked on the app for nearby caches, and then selected one and started navigation. Our first find was hidden in a old rotted tree stump in a park in the village that I didn't know existed. It was filled with little toys and the children swapped one of their trinkets for something in the container. We carefully put it back where we found it and were off to the next one, down the riverside trail. It was great to get out and explore, and exciting to find another hidden treasure box.

We then went looking for one between a lock and a dam. It was a good opportunity to remind the children of the purpose of the locks, and how they work. We searched and searched, however, this cache remained elusive. I decided to go down closer to the dam. A young couple was fishing down there, and the woman shouted up, "Gotta catch 'em all!" I guess we looked like we were playing Pokemon Go. There was poison ivy everywhere, and so we finally gave up. Geocaching in flip flops is not a good idea.

Over the weekend, Pokemon Go was released in Canada, and I did give in and download the game. So not only is there hidden treasure all around us, there are now tiny little creatures to be caught. Although the children have tried Go a few times, they said they prefer the Geocaching because they can find something real. We went again last night, this time with my mother in law, and searched up and down a trail until it was too dark to see and my cell ran out of batteries. We didn't find the cache, but we will be back again in daylight. The children also want to hide some of their own for others to find. We have found a new community, a circle of friends we may never meet in real life, but who share a common interest. We are getting out and walking and spending time together. This is the treasure; a world of adventures waiting to be discovered with the people we love.

The BFG: Bildungsromans for Generations

Tonight we went to the theatre to see The BFG. This Disney adaptation of the Roald Dahl novel was directed by Steven Spielberg. We arrived at the theatre just minutes before the movie was to begin and people were lined up all the way out the door, as it was "cheap night." We were relieved that the show wasn't sold out and made it in just as the previews were starting. I suppose we needn't have worried about getting a good seat, as there were maybe a dozen people in the theatre. I guess everyone else was lining up for The Secret Life of Pets or something. There was no question what show we wanted to see tonight, though. My daughter (10), and son (8) are big Roald Dahl fans.

In the spring my mother gave the children a box set of Roald Dahl books and they have been devouring them ever since. At first my son was a little scandalized ("Mom do you know there is swearing in these books--and they're for kids?!"). He has now read almost all of them. I recommended saving Solo and Boy until he is a little older. The three of us read Esio Trot together. Who knew that kids would love a romantic story about two senior citizens and tortoises? That is the magic of Roald Dahl.

So in anticipation of the movie coming out this summer the children both read the BFG at least twice. I didn't get a chance to read it again myself. The kids would ask me what I thought of this part, or did I remember what happened in that chapter. It is then that it happened; I became my mother. I said those fateful words, "I don't remember, I read that book like thirty years ago!" I always thought it was the strangest thing when my mother would say that. What do you mean you don't remember every detail of some awesome book you read in childhood? How could you possibly be so old that you were reading books thirty years ago anyway? And I realized, oh my, I am old. The wonderful thing about stories though, is that while you might not remember every detail, a good story will stay with you, if only in impressions, and in the way it makes you feel. And that is something I remember thirty years later; I remember the way The BFG made me feel. I remember the humour, the suspense, the adventure and wonder.

In the theatre tonight, I realized that my children are also becoming me, in a sense. They would lean over to whisper, "That's different from the book." That is a particular habit of mine. It wasn't a typical Disney movie. It had a slower pace. There was a lot of dialogue. It was sentimental and really quite lovely. When it was over we watched the credits as everyone else filed out of the theatre. I was shocked to discover that mine had been the only children in the room. I can only guess the other movie-goers were people like me, who read the book decades ago and remembered the way it made them feel.

It was past bedtime when we got home, but I poured us all milk and started to get out a snack. My daughter was in hysterics. I couldn't figure out what was going on until she pointed out I had put the milk in the cupboard. I guess I was still in a daze from the movie. We sat in the kitchen and talked about the movie and the book and how they made us feel. My son said that it made him feel excited. He saw it as a great adventure.  I hope they take those feelings, and their love of literature and pass it on to the next generation. Those dog-eared Dahl books have many good reads left in them.

The Wonder of Flight

A couple of weeks ago we had the opportunity to go to the International Air Show. This was a fantastic event with lots of static displays and demonstrations. We got to go inside the cockpit of a Herc. We saw jets, the Harvard Formation Team, the Skyhawks parachute team and more. It was really hot and there wasn't much shade. People were huddled under the wings of the planes to escape the heat. It really gave new meaning to "under his wings you will find refuge." (Psalm 91:4 NIV).

The highlight of the day for me was seeing the Snowbirds. Most of the crowd seemed pretty relaxed, whereas my heart was in my throat the whole time. It was terrifying. They flew in various formations, wing tip to wing tip. The skill and precision of those pilots was truly awe-inspiring. The show made me so proud and grateful for the men and women serving our country.

After the show we stopped off at the community garden plot where I saw this little guy busily pollinating our garden.

After the noise and busyness of the show, the garden was stunningly quiet and tranquil. And for all the power, skill and technology of man, this little miracle of flight also filled me with awe and wonder. For all we accomplish, we still depend on these small but mighty workers. Fly you high, little bumblebee.

It seems that flight has been a theme for me lately. From bugs, to kites, to planes, my eyes have been turned upward in expectation. And I can think of no more beautiful words on the topic than those of John Gillespie Magee Jr., a pilot for the Royal Canadian Air Force during World War II:

High Flight

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, --and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of --Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flug
My eager craft through footless halls of air...
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew--
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

It's a Fine Day

Thursday was a hot, humid day. We were sticky and cranky and needing a change of scenery. Luckily for us, it was "Psyched for Science" day at the library. Ah, the beautiful, air conditioned library. The children had fun making lava lamps, play dough, goop and disappearing colour wheels. We were messy and happy and finally cool. We were about to go, and noticed the challenge of the week: to make a picture based on a book they had recently read.  We borrowed art supplies from the Children's Desk and my daughter made a portrait of the BFG while my son recreated the scene from the temptation in the garden of Eden. Cognizant of the fact that we only had an hour on the parking meter, I encouraged them to work quickly. We were going over our time, but there is surely a window of grace.

Then it was time to check out. I needed to get a new card, and I had been feeling guilty about using my kids' cards for my books since my card had fines on it (I know, how embarrassing).  So I decided I would do the right thing and settle my account. Ten dollars later we were on our way, hurrying down the sidewalk in the soupy, sticky heat. We arrived just as the Parking Enforcement Officer was putting the ticket on our window. We were in the wrong; we were past our time and fully deserved the ticket.  I was still hopeful though, asking if we were too late to cancel the ticket. He explained once it is on the wind shield he can't do anything about it. He almost looked worried for a moment that it might turn into a confrontation. Instead I asked where I could pay it, and looking relieved, he gave me the information. I acknowledged he had a tough job to do, especially in this heat and thanked him for the help. 

We headed to City Hall to pay the fine. I started to get upset ("I told you kids to hurry up"), but realized I was the one to blame. I could have gone back at any time to feed the meter. This was instead now an opportunity to demonstrate to my children how to own up to your mistakes, deal with the consequences and move forward. We had it paid within five minutes of having it written. That's got to be a record. I mentioned to the lady at the wicket how helpful and professional the Parking Officer had been. She said he was new to the job so it was great to hear that feedback. It made me even more glad that I had kept my cool. 

So a trip to the library for a free program ended up costing $16.50, plus the money we put in the meter. I think it was still a great value. We had science fun, made "donations" to our library that we love and to our city, and the children got to see inside City Hall for the first time. We headed up to our community garden plot afterwards for a snack of peas, and were again reminded of all this beautiful city provides for us. It made me feel good about giving something back.

"Up to the Highest Height"

A couple of weeks ago I told my father and children that they could go fly a kite. No, really, actually fly a kite. It has become a tradition the last few years to go to Kite Day at a nearby provincial park. It is a free family-friendly event put on by amazing volunteers. They had door prizes, a fund-raising barbecue and the chance to make and fly your own kite.

Even though this is something we have done many times, the children were still having a hard time getting the hang of it. There was a wide open field and no lack of wind; it was rather the technique that was lacking. If you have ever read The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams, you know that the knack to flying  "...lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss." I think the same principle can apply to flying kites. Well, my son was doing a lot of throwing the kite at the ground, but each time he would "fail to miss it fairly hard" and it would drag and bob along the dried grass behind him as he ran for all he was worth toward the patches of poison ivy. Rather than the whimsical family outing I had hoped for, it was becoming more like a scene out of Peanuts.

Of course, he was not overly receptive to the advice of his elders. It wasn't until one of the volunteers came and offered his expert assistance, that he decided he would try doing it another way. We let out lots of string and I held the kite with my son at the other end. I threw it up while he pulled down, and ran a little, just for good measure. The kite caught the wind and up it went. We managed to get it so high in the air that we reached the end of the string. My daughter and father likewise were having success and the two kites danced and dipped in the sky.

At this point I was reminded of a book I saw once in a library. It was called Fishing for Angels: The Magic of Kites, by David Evans. As an experienced fisherman, my son really did look like he was trying to catch a big one, the way he worked the line was just how he would fight a trophy fish.  I love that metaphor, the idea that we are trying to catch a little piece of heaven, casting our gaze upward, as if to say, come, dance, play--we are here. It is exhilarating, and at the same time, when a kite soars high into the sky, the whole world seems to get quieter. If you haven't done so lately, I highly recommend it: go fly a kite!