Linda Hoye's Blog, page 186

A Day In Retiree Life

I spent some time in my garden this morning. Traditionally, here in Kamloops, the May long weekend is the time where it’s deemed safe to plant your garden. I pushed the envelope by planting my peas in late March (and they’re doing wonderful, thank you very much!) and radishes, lettuce, and carrots in late April (they’re up and doing well!).

I had put a few of the tomato plants I started from seed (thirty plants; four varieties) in the ground a few weeks ago a few weeks ago and surrounded them with my walls o’ water to keep them safe in case we got a late frost. I planted the rest a week or so ago (supplementing them with aspirin, fish parts, and eggshells in the holes) and today decided to remove the protective walls.

In addition, I have planted five pepper plants (which I started from seed a couple of months ago), spaghetti squash, crookneck squash, mojito mint, basil, nasturtium, borage, rainbow Swiss chard, and a couple of other varieties of radish and lettuce. I keep meaning to take pictures of my plot in the community garden. I will. Soon.

This afternoon, Gerry and I went out into the back yard and played croquet. Yes, croquet. Just the two of us. Just because we felt like it. I joked that we should don our finest attire and brew up a spot o’tea to enjoy while we played (a la Downton Abbey) but we decided to forgo the English finery for today.

Then, I spent a pleasant hour on the upper deck reading. I just started a book I picked up from the library this morning: May Sarton’s At Seventy: A Journal.  I love her appreciation for simple things: tending a garden, a simple breakfast of bread and homemade jam, a yellow goldfinch; many of the same things I find myself finding pleasure in these days.

I enjoyed one of Sarton’s earlier books a few years ago, Journal of a Solitude, and look forward to this one too. Her first words in Solitude echo my own experience:

“I am here alone for the first time in weeks, “to take up my ‘real’ life again at last. That is what is strange—that friends, even passionate love, are not my real life, unless there is time alone in which to explore what is happening or what has happened.”

Now, it’s almost five o’clock and I’m thinking about the new pork recipe I’m planning on supper. Cooking is much different these days than it was when I was working, when usually the last thing I wanted to think about at the end of the day was preparing a meal.

These days I’m trying new recipes, browsing Pinterest for inspiration, watching the Food Network, and having a blast. I even bought a new Jamie Oliver cookbook today with a gift card I’ve been saving for something special. I prepared a couple of recipes I saw him make on TV last week that were a huge success (Mothership roast salmon and, with the leftovers, Salmon filo pie. De-lish-ious!) . Plus, I really like his food philosophy.

Other than this blog post I didn’t get any actual writing done today. (Although it’s said among writers that even when we’re not physically writing we’re thinking about writing and so, in some ways, we’re always writing.) I’m pleased with the progress I’ve been making on the synopsis and outline for my current project. I have good intentions of getting my tushie into my office for focused writing time every day but some days, gardening, reading, and now it seems, croquet, just get in the way.

And I’m A-Okay with that.

Photo Friday

Under the category of “I have lived here most of my life and never noticed this before” I bring you the spring showing of the arrow-leaved balsamroot that is decorating the hills around Kamloops these days. A friend pointed out the flowers to me the other day on a hillside I drove past for many years on my way to work. I must have been on auto-pilot all those years because I don’t consciously remember seeing them before. Yesterday, Gerry and I climbed the hill to snap a few photos.

 

Pre-Dawn Gratitude

Ah, you’re back are you old friend. To say I’ve missed you would be a lie though you have been conspicuous by your absence. You’ve made yourself known; no concerns that I may have forgotten about you. I’ve cut my walks short, unable just yet to make the full route I’ve set as a goal, as you’ve begun to torment me these past number of days.

For the most part, I’ve been successful at ignoring you throughout the day, pushing through as I’ve done for years. Evenings have been harder; your voice seems louder in the evening, your torment stronger.

Then, late yesterday afternoon, there was no denying it. You had settled in for another visit and I settled in with my heating pad to read on the sofa when Gerry headed out for a meeting after dinner.

Bedtime. My husband’s concern prompted him to ask if I was taking something before bed. Drugs? I don’t need no steenkin’ drugs. I was, as always, stoic and stubborn and perhaps just a tad in the grasp of denial.

Shortly after 2am the ache in my back woke me up. I moved this way and that trying unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position while my husband slept soundly next to me. Finally, admitting to myself that I needed to take something, I stumbled to the bathroom and tried to keep quiet as I rummaged through the cupboards looking for the muscle relaxants I was certain I had packed and brought with me in the move.

Unsuccessful in my quest, I grabbed a couple of over-the-counter pain relievers  and climbed back into bed. The OTC meds did nothing to take the edge off of the pain and I resolved myself to heading to the walk-in clinic in the morning to get a prescription bemoaning the fact that, like many British Columbians, we have not been able to secure a family doctor which meant I’d likely have to spend a couple of hours at the clinic.

Finally, I gave up on getting comfortable and decided to head to the couch with the heating pad I had left there a few hours earlier. Gerry, awake by now, asked if I needed a blanket and, stubborn as ever, I told him I’d grab one from the closet on my way. Good thing. Because there in a basket next to the towels, just where I now remembered putting them, were the muscle relaxers and pain pills I had been looking for. Relief.

Meds taken, heating pad on, blankie covering me, I settled in with my iPad on the sofa surfing around my new favourite blog, The Art of Doing Stuff, finding all manner of ideas for new projects. (Like I need any new projects.)

I was thankful that I didn’t have to worry about getting ready for work in a few hours. There have been many, many, mornings I’ve stumbled through my morning ablutions after having spent a restless night coping with chronic pain to get ready for work. There have been many, many days I’ve endured a full day at work only to come home and fall down spent and in physical agony.

This time it’s different. This time I can take the time I need to heal my body; I can make a plan (and follow it) for the self-care I need. This is, I realized very early this morning, another blessing of being at this stage of life where my time is my own. So, as day was just beginning to break, I headed back to bed to catch a few hours of sleep before beginning the rest of my day.

Oh, and by the way, the project I’m most excited about from my early morning meanderings around The Art of Doing Stuff is this one on using your pressure canner to can homemade chicken broth. I’m doing this as soon as I save enough chicken bones and parts. In fact, I’m going to start keeping a bag of them in my freezer right next to the fish parts I’ve been saving. Don’t ask.

Time

I was in my office this afternoon preparing a blog post. Just back from having spent a pleasant hour in my garden, I was considering the blessing we are enjoying of having the gift of time. Time to call our own, time to fill as we desire, time stretching out in front of us full of possibilities.

I was thinking about how the passing of time has changed in the short while since we retired. A few days ago on my morning walk I realized that the last time I had the luxury of being able to take regular walks in the springtime, the sun warm on my shoulders, the scent of honeysuckle perfuming the air, was when my children were preschoolers, before my time was filled with school work and then a career. How blessed I felt to be able to reclaim the gift of having time for morning walks.

This afternoon I spent an hour in my garden puttering around with tasks that, had I hurried, could have been completed in mere minutes. With the luxury of time on my side I was able to walk through the garden and observe the new growth in other’s plots, take note of new structures and new plants that have been added since I was there last. I considered where I plan to plant my tomato plants in a few weeks and marked the spots with tomato cages; then I changed my mind and rearranged them. I planted a dozen marigolds, companions for my future tomato plants. I planted two pepper plants I’ve grown from seed. I watered, I dreamed, I was content.

Then, back at home as I sat at my computer composing this post Gerry returned from a walk and came into my office, pulled over a chair and sat down next to me, a few tears falling from his eyes. He had just received a phone call that was a stark reminder that time is a fleeting thing and that there are no guarantees about how much time is allocated to each of us.

We are reminded that every day is a gift. Our hearts are heavy as we face saying farewell to a loved one far, far too soon.

Photo Friday

It was, as promised by the weather experts, a stellar day to mark the first day of May. Gerry and I took our cameras and headed out to explore.

What tales could this old structure tell?

Looking for the best angle to shoot

Reminds me of my beloved prairie.

 

Gerry’s shot of this wise fellow we spied by the side of the road. Good thing he brought his long lens along!

It was a spectacular start to a new month.

May Day

Oh the beauty of a warm and sunny morning on the first day of May! The weather forecasters are predicting that records will be broken here today (high 20s C / low 80s F). This is the Kamloops we’ve been missing!

I stepped out on the deck right off of our bedroom early this morning and snapped a few photos; it was already warm out there.

I’m looking forward to a day of sunshine, gardens, photography, and a good measure of sitting-on-the-deck-with-a-book time.

Life is good in the retirement-hood!

Happy Anniversary, Gerry

Fifteen years ago today, on a sunny April morning, Gerry and I were married. It was a small and simple ceremony, at that even larger than I would have chosen had it been up to me alone. My soon-to-be husband was of the mind that we needed to mark the occasion with a celebration, though. He was right, of course.

We came together that morning having already lived a good portion of our lives apart, each carrying a measure of baggage from those past lives; mine, arguably, a bit heavier than his. Still, we chose to join our hands, our lives, and our families. Our lives changed that day as we started a new journey together.

We couldn’t have imagined all that would transpire between that beautiful day and today. Four homes; two countries; three grandchildren; and now we’ve taken the first steps on a brand new journey as we walk into retirement together.

My husband brought laughter and joy into my life. He supports me; he believes in me; and yes, he makes me crazy at times! Still, without a doubt, he is a gift from God to me.

“Grow old along with me!

The best is yet to be,

The last of life, for which the first was made:

Our times are in His hand . . .”

~ Robert Browning

Happy Anniversary, Gerry. I love you seven.

Mom’s Hands On Easter Morning

I stand in the kitchen on Easter morning preparing stuffing for the turkey I will roast later today. I use a simple recipe–not a recipe at all really–just a mixing of the same ingredients that my mom, and her mom before her, used.

It’s been thirty years since I had stuffing prepared by my mom. Over the course of those thirty years I have prepared a multitude of turkey dinners complete with stuffing and all of the trimmings. Every time I prepare the stuffing Mom is in the kitchen with me and a melancholy falls over me as I miss her presence in my life and grieve for the lost years.

The hands I see mixing the dry bread crumbs with chopped onion, melted butter, sage, poultry seasoning, salt and pepper, are her hands. I wonder when my hands became hers. A piece I wrote a few years ago comes to mind. I thought I’d share it here today.

I wish for you a happy and blessed Easter. He is risen! He is risen, indeed!

 

 

Photo Friday

“In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.”

~ Margaret Atwood in Bluebeard’s Egg (1986)

 

“It’s spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you’ve got it, you want—oh, you don’t quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!”

~ Mark Twain

Canadian Content – The Art of Doing Stuff

Now that we’re settling in back here in the “old country” I’ve decided that the worlds needs more Canada and I’m going to do my part by bringing you some Canadiana now and then.

I just got back from the Story Circle conference in Austin, TX and, as is often the case, I had trouble sleeping in unfamiliar hotel rooms. Wide awake one night, I found myself poking around the blogosphere and somehow came upon The Art of Doing Stuff.

I spent more time than I should have poking around the categories on this site that long and sleepless night. I found all sorts of ideas for projects I want to try in the garden, in the kitchen, everywhere. It’s better than Pinterest!

One of the things I found that inspired me was a lot of info about growing garlic. You have to plant garlic in the fall so I’m filing a lot of this away for future reference, but I am kind of smitten with the garlic scapes that should be showing up in the next couple of months. Sure, you can cook with them but I think they look pretty neat in a vase too. I have noticed that a lot of the plots in the community garden where I have my plot have garlic growing in them. I might have to befriend some of my garlic-growing community gardener compadres and get me some scapes come June or July.

Head on over to The Art of Doing Stuff and check it out and don’t be surprised if an hour goes by while you’re clicking, reading, taking notes, and getting inspired. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!