Arlene Stafford-Wilson's Blog, page 54
August 31, 2015
CAROL BENNETT McCUAIG reviews “Lanark County Connections”
Arlene Stafford-Wilson has done it again! Lanark County Connections: Memories Among the Maples, the latest in her series of popular memoirs, is a book that is sure to delight her many fans. It is a mixture of childhood memories and carefully researched local history.
The author has written this book as a tribute to the founding families who settled in the townships of the Perth Military Settlement whose bicentennial will be celebrated in 2016. The anniversary is of special interest to her family because her ancestor, Tobias Stafford, arrived in Drummond Township in 1816. In this new collection of reminiscences she continues to reconstruct the rural Ontario of her childhood, taking the reader along for the ride.
An interesting part of the social history of Lanark County concerns the many local dance halls of the 1950s to the 1970s. Arlene takes a close look at these and in particular the Antler Lodge at Rideau Ferry. Her account is sure to provoke a burst of nostalgia in those who were there! “To many, the charming, rustic Lodge was the unforgettable backdrop for their first kiss, their first dance, and for some, their first love,” she suggests. This chapter recalls some of the big names in Ottawa Valley country music in the decades following the war. What became of them all? Where are they now?
The author notes that in 1957 a meeting held at the Antler Lodge resulted in the Ferry Road Telephone Company voting to let the Bell Telephone Company convert North Elmsley Township to dial service. Remembering the days when I shared a 28-household party line in Lanark County, I know that the people who lived there must have many a tale to tell of their experiences back then.
There is a fascinating chapter about the family who built the historic Matheson House, now the Perth Museum, but that is not all! Something strange and wonderful happened to the young Arlene when her mother took her to the grand opening of the museum in 1967. What was that all about? You will have to read the book to find out more!
The chapter entitled Quilting Queens of Lanark County is as much a glimpse into the lives of rural women half a century ago as it is an account of the art of quilting in Lanark County. And the superstitions associated with the craft are delightful. You’d better not begin a quilt on a Friday or you may not live to complete it! “From my vantage point, under a sturdy wooden quilt frame, I learned much more than how to make a fancy cover for a bed,” Arlene recalls, harking back to her childhood. I, too, can remember sitting under a table, hidden by the cloth, taking in all sorts of information not intended for a child’s ears! Perhaps this image will evoke interesting memories for others too.
Perth’s Stewart Park is a lovely place in which to take a peaceful walk. Have you ever wondered about the origin of its name? This book supplies the answer in the form of a heartfelt tribute to Jessie Henderson Stewart, who gave the land to the town. This was someone whose life is an inspiration to all women, and her story is well worth reading.
For me, a valuable part of the book is the way it brought to the surface numerous memories of my own. As a journalist I interviewed a number of the people mentioned by the author, including Walter Cameron and Garnet Hazard.
And then there are various references to married women, who, prior to the advent of the women’s movement of the 1970s, were always referred to under their husbands’ names. Woe betide the unwary newspaper editor who recorded a woman as, for example, Mrs. Mary Jones, instead of Mrs. Donald Jones. Heated words would be exchanged and an apology published the following week!
Even for readers who have no Lanark County connections of their own, the book may well spark recollections of another time and place. Meanwhile, those of us who have lived there will pounce on the many references to those who have gone before us. “I knew her!” we may say excitedly, recalling incidents that are amusing, or happy, – or perhaps otherwise!
To quote Arlene, there is “nothing quite as good for the soul as a day or two, far away from the busy world, discovering the back roads in Lanark County”. Why not join her, as she shares some of her memories among the maples? I think you’ll be glad you did.
Book Launch: Saturday, September 26th noon – 3pm, The Book Nook, Perth, Ontario. http://www.staffordwilson.com
Review by : Carol McCuaig former weekly newspaper editor, author of sixty three books, including “In Search of Lanark”, historical novels, regional histories, commissioned works and books geared to helping people who are researching their Lanark and Renfrew County (Ontario) roots.
“In Search of the Red Dragon: The Welsh in Canada” received the Ninnau Award for its contribution to North American Welsh culture.
In 1997 she received an Achievement Award from the Ontario Heritage Foundation, for her body of work in recording regional history.
http://carolmccuaig.ca/ Website: Carol Bennett McCuaig
photo: courtesy – website of Carol McCuaig
August 29, 2015
Paranormal Perth: Garden Ghosts on Gore Street
Paranormal Perth: Garden Ghosts on Gore Street: A chill that travels down your spine, the unexplained feeling of dread, or a sudden drop in temperature, are physical signs that many have experienced in a haunted locale. How do places become this way? Why do spirits linger in certain buildings, or even in certain rooms?
Some say that the history of a building is almost always a primary factor. When a building is very old, and has a long history of human habitation, naturally the chances increase dramatically that someone over the years has experienced strong negative feelings in that space.
In 2016 Perth, Ontario will mark 200 years since the first settlers established the town, and many of the beautiful limestone buildings date back into the early 1800s. Some of these historic old buildings have changed hands many times over the years, like the present Perth Museum on Gore Street.
Some may not realize that the Matheson family occupied the impressive stone manor as their family home for almost a century. When the last family member died in the house in 1929, the building became the elegant Birkacre Tea Room from 1930-38, operated by William and Jessie Kinloch. From 1938-46 the building was called The Vanity Fair, a posh restaurant owned by Clifford and Alice Carr. The Perth-Upon-Tay Legion bought the building in 1947, and it was their meeting place until 1967, when it became the Perth Museum.
The Matheson family, original owners of the mansion, were wealthy and prominent in the community. They hosted many parties and social gatherings in the beautiful gardens behind the house. Of the seven daughters in the family, only one married; and the other six girls remained at home, lavishing much time and energy tending the lush garden at the back of the property.
Although some paranormal researchers say that violence or sorrow may cause a spirit to feel bound to the world, until justice is rendered, this is not always the case. Some say it can be the strong attachment to a particular location, and that spirits may return to a place where they spent their happiest times. It’s been said that these feelings of contentment, of the person never wanting to leave, can seep into a place, either in the walls of a building, or the soil of the ground itself, and leave a certain ghostly energy or impression. Researchers claim that ghosts tend to stay in places that they considered to be their own during their former lives, and areas that were once very closely linked to themselves as a living human being.
——————
Have you ever experienced signs of paranormal activity?
Disappearance and re-emergence of objects in the house
Finding unidentified objects in the house
Appearance of unexplained marks around the house, e.g. scratch marks on the walls, odd marks on cupboards or walls
Hearing weird sounds or sounds of doors closing or opening, banging, laughter, walking, speaking, etc. in the absence of any source
Sudden changes in temperature
Lights or electronic equipment going on or off repeatedly or not working without any reason
Mobile phones not working
Cats or dogs whining or barking unnecessarily
Feeling a presence in the house
Feeling of being watched
Seeing ghosts
——————————————
Until it is proven, we may only speculate that some spirits never leave old stone buildings like Matheson House in Perth. Do the spirits of the lovely daughters who tended their gardens so faithfully in life still roam the lush property behind the Perth Museum? Do they still gather flowers and tidy the weeds as they did in the past, preparing for the lavish garden parties where they entertained the Who’s Who of Lanark County?
Take a trip into the past and meet the family who lived in this historic building, learn about the elegant Birkacre Tea Room, the posh restaurant known as the Vanity Fair, and the Perth-Upon-Tay legion members who passed their days and nights in this building, long before the time when it became the popular Perth Museum.
Read more about it in “Matheson House: Perth’s Grand Lady of Stone”, one of the stories in the new book, ‘Lanark County Connections – Memories Among the Maples’. The book launch is September 26th at The Book Nook in Perth, or visit the Perth Chapter, Ottawa International Writer’s Festival at the Crystal Palace, Perth on October 3rd.
(some photos courtesy of the Perth Museum)
August 24, 2015
Lanark County Dance Halls 1950s, 60s & 70s
First kiss, first drink, maybe even a first love, were some of the memories made at the old style country dance halls in Lanark County in the 1950s, 60s and 70s. Close to home, these community halls opened their doors on the May long weekend, and became the backdrop for cottage crushes and summer romances. With wooden floors polished to a high shine, and the snack-bars stocked with crowd-pleasing favourites, local bands entertained the crowds into the wee hours.
Some were neighbourhood musicians, and many were bands from out of town, but most used a single microphone and one or two small amplifiers. Parking lots became passion pits, and offered privacy for underage drinking, and occasional brawls.
Music echoed across the big lakes and rivers, keeping cottagers awake, and causing parents to wonder what was going on down at the dance hall. Whether you preferred country, big-band or rock and roll there were venues to suit every taste and style.
See if you can remember these local favourites:
Bill Hannah and the Nightingales
Bill Munro and his Country Rockets
CFRA Happy Wanderers: Ken Reynolds, Ward Allen, Bob King, Vince Lebeau, Lynn Strauff, Marie King
Country Harmony Boys
Country Hoppers: Garry ‘Gizz’ Watt, Fred ‘Pappy’ Ryan, Paul ‘Hiker’ Gurry, Larry ‘Dooley’ Protheroe
Country Rhythm Kings
Don Gilchrist and his Dancers
Family Brown: Tracey, Lawanda, Joe & Barry Brown, Dave Dennison, Ron Sparling
Fred Paquin’s Orchestra (featuring Don Cochrane)
Jerry Badour and His Westernaires
Kenny Jackson’s Valley Cruisers: Harry Adrain, Raymond Donaldson, Gary Barr
Lee Miller’s Orchestra
Lockwood’s Orchestra
Mac Beattie and the Melodiers: Reg Hill, Garnet Scheel, Gaetan Fairfield, Bob Whitney
Mallen’s Melodiers
Mississippi Ramblers
Mississippi River Boys
Riders of the Southern Trails
Ron McMunn and his Country Cousins
Symington’s Orchestra
Tex Montana’s Cowboy Band
Top Hats
Travelons
Valley Ramblers
Wilson Sisters
…and the dance halls where they entertained us:
Antler Lodge
Balderson Hall
Bolingbroke ABC Hall
Carleton Place Town Hall
Fallbrook Orange Hall
Maberly Agricultural Hall
McDonald’s Corners Agricultural Hall
Perth Town Hall
Rideau Ferry Inn
Lanark Stanley Lodge
Wemyss Hall
Westport Scott’s Ballroom
Take a trip down memory lane, back to the old style country dance halls and the folks who kept us dancing until the wee hours in the new release –
“Lanark County Connections – Memories Among the Maples”
The book launch takes place on Saturday, September 26th from 9am to 12 noon at The Book Nook, 60 Gore Street, Perth. Or pick up your copy on Saturday, October 3rd at the Perth Chapter, International Writer’s Festival at the Crystal Palace, Perth, Ontario from 9 am to 1 pm.
For more information: 613-267-2350 thebooknook@bellnet.ca
photo of Antler Lodge, used with permission – Graeme Hoatson Beattie
August 19, 2015
Book Review – OTTAWA LIFE MAGAZINE
“Lanark County Connections – Memories Among the Maples”
In her latest collection of short stories, Ottawa author Arlene Stafford-Wilson remains loyal to the past; faithfully reconstructing the rural Ontario of her childhood. She has crafted these stories, once again set in Lanark County in the 1960s and 70s, with attention to detail; so that people and places, lost and gone in the real world, remain alive on the pages.
As the book begins, the reader is invited to step back in time to enjoy some carefree summer evenings at an old style country dance hall on the Rideau Lakes, known as Antler Lodge. Perth is the setting for another story, where the reader is transported back to an elegant mansion in the 1960s, where the secrets and scandals of its wealthy inhabitants are revealed. Also, in this collection, the author shares an eerie encounter on Gore Street, with a restless spirit, who walks the halls of their childhood home. In one of the more light-hearted tales, the author takes the reader on a laid-back bus tour, set in the 1970s, as it weaves its way through Drummond, Ramsay, Darling, and Dalhousie townships, on Lanark County’s back roads, meeting some delightful local characters, and visiting some lesser-known scenic gems.
The lives of ordinary people sing out from these historical stories, which take place over two decades of closely observed regional life. As in her previous books, the author weaves the names of local people throughout the stories, and includes each name in an index at the back. You may even find your own name in the book!
Book Launch for “Lanark County Connections”, is Saturday, September 26th 12 pm until 3 pm at The Book Nook at 60 Gore Street E. in Perth. On Saturday, Oct. 3rd, from 9 am until 1 pm Arlene will be showcasing her books at the Perth Chapter – Ottawa International Writer’s Festival at the Crystal Palace, Perth, Ontario.
(Author of “Lanark County Calendar”, “Lanark County Chronicle”, “Lanark County Kid” & “Recipes & Recollections”)
February 22, 2015
Winter Warriors
Eastern Ontario winters are not for the faint of heart. They are bitterly cold. They are relentless…and, they are long. They are not for the casual skier wanting a fashionable romp down a pretty hill only to return to the safety and warmth of their faraway homes. They are not for the frivolous winter vacationer staying at a rustic lodge to photograph a deer or a moose, from the comforts of their cozy cabin windows.
These winter days are for hardy souls only; all others need not apply. These are for people prepared to use a heavy shovel and an ever-present snow brush on a daily basis. These are for people possessing the knowledge and necessary techniques for walking on different types of ice…without falling. Some ice is flat and smooth like a hockey arena. Some ice is snow-covered, just enough to make the hidden surface even more perilous. Some days the ice is black, unseen, undetectable, rendering the walker completely unaware of their vulnerability.
This is where you���ll find the stalwart souls who soldier on, through ice and snow, from October through April each year, month after long winter month. These are the people who listen to reports of schools closing, and distant cities shut down because of the ���bad��� winter weather, as they trudge through the snow on their way to work because it���s ���just another day���. These are the people, young and old who wade through snow, stroll on the ice, and drive on slick roads in freezing rain, for months each year. Before their school day or work day has even begun, they have shoveled their sidewalks, brushed off their cars, stepped gingerly on ice, trudged through resistant snow drifts, all of this while bitter cold winds sting any skin unprotected by cumbersome layers of clothing and boots.
These are the enduring rank and file, possessing rare perseverance, stamina and patience. They are dreamers and unflinching optimists. In the final unbending weeks of the coldest season they will study seed catalogues, plan gardens, visit boat shows, and envision themselves under clear, blue skies on calm, warm, July afternoons. They conjure endless images of cottages, muskoka chairs, hammocks, beer and barbecues. They dream of tulips and trilliums, green grass, and sunny days.
As the late winter unwinds its final few weeks in Eastern Ontario, perhaps the most anticipated signal to herald the new season for these enduring folks, will be the time-honoured, and always sublime, first taste of their beloved maple syrup. It spells the defeat, the finish, the finale, the wind-up, and the end-of-the-line for winter. It marks the beginning of spring, of brighter longer days, and the sweet, golden taste of victory for the hardy souls who have survived yet another long, cold Canadian winter.
Discover the history of maple syrup production in Lanark County, Eastern Ontario in ‘Taffy on the Tay’, an excerpt from Lanark County Chronicle – ISBN978-0-9877026-23
Visit the Perth Festival of the Maples Saturday April 25th:
http://perthchamber.com/chamber-events/festival-of-the-maples/
December 10, 2014
Homecoming
���Hearts glowed in friendship, forged over decades,
and the Spirit of Christmas entered the house, and walked among us.���
For some people it���s the music of the season, the smell of the turkey, or the glittering gifts sitting under the tree; but for me it was a special visit to the house where I grew up, a homecoming, after a long absence of twenty-two years.
It doesn���t really seem that long ago since our father passed away in 1992, and our mother moved to town. I almost half expected to see him coming from the garage, carrying a tangled mess of Christmas lights, asking me if I���d hold the ladder steady, while he fastened the wire clamps onto the big spruce tree at the front of the house.
When I first heard from Wendy Parker, the current owner of our former home, that it was to be part of a Christmas House Tour, my thoughts turned back to days gone by, of the heavenly smells of Mother���s baking, bright cards in the mailbox at the end of the lane, and special concerts and plays at Calvin Church. There would be eight houses in total on the Christmas House Tour, and the event was sponsored by the Canadian Federation of University Women, and the money raised would help support education in the community.
Kevin and I arrived early that afternoon, with ample time to visit some of my old, familiar haunts. We drove first to Christie Lake, a place I knew well, the bridge at Jordan���s, where I���d jumped many times into the cool, clear waters. Hot days spent riding bikes with friends on the Third Line, and when that bridge was finally in sight it was like seeing an oasis in the middle of the desert. What a welcome sight it was! And even on this cold, December day, the lake appeared as serene and as lovely as it always did, calm and blue, waiting patiently for cottage season, and the laughter of little ones, the parties and music of the older ones, and a place of peace and serenity for the eldest ones.���� We drove along the shore, and then headed back up the Third Line.
A visit home would not be complete without making a stop at the church where our Mother brought us every Sunday. This was where we celebrated baptisms, witnessed weddings, and met for comfort after funerals. This was the setting for the Strawberry Socials, Easter Sunday white gloves and hats, the lighting of the advent candles and Christmas Eve. The church stands proudly on Cameron Side Road, looking solid as ever, a place for meeting neighbours, friends, a place for worship, a place for solitude, and a shelter from the storms and turmoil of the outside world.
We headed back to the Fourth Line and rounded the curve, up to the railroad tracks. There were many strolls along these tracks to the duck pond, watching the beavers at play, seeing the ducks return year after year, raise their babies, and leave at the end of the season.���� Memories of sitting under the big tree along the tracks with my brother Roger as we patiently placed a penny each on the rails, sit back and wait for the train to go by, then retrieve our flattened pennies. Many hours in my youth were spent waiting for trains, listening to the sounds of the lonely whistles, and hearing the rumbling and chugging down the tracks as it headed for Perth.
We continued up the side road to the little creek and as soon as I spotted it, I remembered scooping up the tadpoles in my sand pail, and then pouring them into a big glass pickle jar to set on the window ledge in my bedroom. Every spring it was a ritual to catch some of these quick, black tadpoles, or pollywogs, as we called them, and watch them for hours, swimming contentedly in the jar, until we dumped them back into the creek.
The lowlands, across from the creek were still flooded, and ice was already beginning to form. It was back on these lowlands that we all learned how to skate; not on a flat, pristine ice surface in an arena, but through the weeds, and over the bumps, and up and down the imperfections of a farmer���s field. The fact that our skates were old hand-me-downs was the least of our worries!
We drove up the side road to the laneway and parked the car. As we walked up the lane, the slopes and curves of the land were as familiar to me as if I���d never left, and we made our way to the door and knocked.
When the door opened and we stepped inside, the home was beautifully decorated for the season. Wendy���s elaborate table was laid out with her mother���s china and cutlery with festive accents fit for a holiday gathering. The whole house in fact, was lovely and bright, adorned with reds and greens and touches of gold and shimmer. As we walked through the rooms, one by one, they were warm and inviting, and almost made me forget that something was missing – the smell of fresh baked bread, a permanent aroma in our house as Mother baked daily for a family of seven.
There was a lovely display arranged on a table in the den, an album of our Stafford family photos and copies of ���Lanark County Kid��� and ���Lanark County Chronicles���. I thought that they looked very much at home in this well cared-for house, so lovingly maintained and obviously cherished.
Perhaps what made the house seem so much like home, after so many years away, were the familiar faces, friends and neighbours, who came to share the memories, of the things that once were; and to celebrate a new Christmas season, content and happy in each other���s company. Though Wendy���s is the newest face among us, it���s as if she���d been with us all along. Wendy is a gracious hostess, and we all had a wonderful time chatting about the house, and catching up on the news in the neighbourhood.
Many thanks to Wendy and to the members of the Canadian Federation of University Women, for making our visit possible, and thanks also to old friends and neighbours Margery Conboy, Beverly Ferlatte, Betty Miller, Eleanor Paul and her lovely daughter Heather for joining us on our trip down memory lane!
As I continue to bask in the glow of our visit to the old house, I will leave you with this quote from Thomas Wolfe:
���But why had he always felt so strongly the magnetic pull of home, why had he thought so much about it and remembered it with such blazing accuracy, if it did not matter, and if this little town, and the immortal hills around it, was not the only home he had on earth? He did not know. All that he knew was that the years flow by like water, and that one day men come home again.���
November 23, 2014
200 Years of History in Tay Valley
Scribes, Minstrels and Storytellers were the ���keepers of the history���, going back as far as ancient Egypt and even beyond. The stories of tribes and communities were painted on cave walls, sculpted in stone, or painstakingly illustrated on animal skin or parchment. Stories were passed from generation to generation, some gathered in circles around blazing fires, many told from father to son and from mother to daughter. The culture and the history were preserved, and tales of bravery and acts of courage were interspersed with accounts of the daily lives of the ancestors.
As preparations for the 200th anniversary of Tay Valley Township gain momentum, the group producing the book ���At Home in Tay Valley��� gathered together all of the contributors this past Saturday November 22nd 2014 at the Tay Valley Township office on Harper Road. Some of the those present had written chapters for the book, and some had been interviewed, and their oral accounts had been recorded and transcribed for posterity. Regardless of the nature of their contributions, everyone present understood the importance of documenting the history of Tay Valley, and preserving it for future generations.
Deputy Reeve of Tay Valley Township Susan Freeman welcomed all of the contributors to the gathering, and spoke briefly about the 200th anniversary and some of the events that would be held as part of the celebration in 2016. Kay Rogers, the Editor of ���At Home in Tay Valley��� read the names of all of the contributors to the book, and gathered everyone together for a group photo that will appear in the book.
As Kay said, no gathering in Tay Valley would be complete without some tasty treats, and everyone had the opportunity to mix and mingle while enjoying coffee, hot apple cider and a delightful assortment of cookies and squares.
We chatted with many former neighbours and long-time friends from Calvin United Church ��� Maxine and Keith Jordan, Alan Jordan, and former 4-H Club fellow member Ruth Miller-Baker. We were especially delighted to have a chance to visit with another dear friend Betty Miller who lit up the room with her ever-present smile and unstoppable cheerful spirit.���� Another old friend Keith Kerr stopped by to say hello, and it was nice to see many other friendly faces from Tay Valley, particularly those from the former Bathurst Township.
We look forward to the publishing of the book with great anticipation, and are thankful that these stories and memories will be preserved in this unique collection. The books are scheduled for printing late in 2015 and forms for pre-ordering are available now. To pre-order your copy, please contact Kristine Swaren at 613-267-5353 ext 129 or email your request to: planning assistant (at)tayvalleytwp.ca.
Contributors to book, ‘At Home in Tay Valley’
Susan Freeman, Deputy Reeve welcomes the contributors
Kay Rogers, Editor shows a sneak-peak of the book cover for ‘At Home in Tay Valley’
with Kay Rogers, Editor of ‘At Home in Tay Valley’
Some dear neighbours and friends from Calvin Church – far left Betty Miller, 4th from the left Alan Jordan, Keith Jordan, Maxine Jordan and former 4H member Ruth Miller-Baker.
November 18, 2014
Tour the Stafford House December 6th & 7th
When the book “Recipes and Recollections” was first published in 2011, most people could only dream of visiting its magical setting. As the book became more and more popular, it’s likely that many readers had no idea where such places as Glen Tay or DeWitt’s Corners were located. They may have even wondered, “Is it a real place?”
Perched on a gentle hill, a short drive west of Perth, Ontario, the ‘Stafford House’ has become known as one of the area’s most celebrated fictional houses. It is one of the best examples of a building associated with a Canadian author, Arlene Stafford-Wilson, who used the farmhouse as both the inspiration and the setting for her popular books.
Built in 1906, the two storey house, a warm and welcoming residence, was home to the Stafford family for almost 50 years. This traditional, rural home would become the backdrop for four well-loved books: “Lanark County Kid”, “Lanark County Chronicle”, “Lanark County Calendar” and “Recipes and Recollections”.
The Stafford House is valued both for its good aesthetic and functional architecture. Its farmhouse design, places it firmly in Canadian vernacular building traditions of the earliest part of the 20th century. It is of an appealing, sturdy type, very common to many areas of eastern Canada. The interior of the house boasts a classic, traditional design, featuring good craftsmanship and materials. The interior plan finishes and details have been lovingly preserved, and its overall scale and materials, are enhanced by its setting in a park-like yard, surrounded by stately maple trees.
The author described the family home: “a big beautiful red brick house smothered in tall maples in the front and apple orchards at the back, was the magical home of my childhood”
You will be charmed by the beauty of the surrounding countryside, and the large and romantic woodland which drifts down the hillside towards the railroad tracks, and the beloved duck pond, mentioned many times in Stafford-Wilson’s books. Close by, you can take a walk or a drive down the side road and see the little creek where the Stafford children caught tadpoles in the spring, and then walk along the fields where they carefully chose their Christmas tree each year in December.
View the rolling farmlands, stunning landscapes, and nearby tiny villages of Glen Tay and DeWitts Corners. Take a short drive up Cameron Side Road, and you will see the charming red brick Calvin Church where the Stafford family attended, another landmark which is mentioned many times in Stafford-Wilson’s books.
This year, for the first time, you can visit the Stafford House in Eastern Ontario, Canada, the setting which was the influence for Arlene Stafford-Wilson to create her beloved tales of Lanark County in days gone by.
Special exhibits include photos from the private collections of the Stafford family showing the exterior and interior of the house as it was, when they lived there from 1946 – 1992. Admire some of the author’s Mother’s original hand-written recipes that were preserved, then later published in ‘Recipes and Recollections’.
Take this extraordinary glimpse into this beloved home of author Arlene Stafford-Wilson and her family, decorated for the holidays.
A visit to this historic home will be sure to put you in the Christmas spirit.
Organized by the Perth and District Canadian Federation of University Women, the Heritage Perth Christmas House Tour will feature 8 local homes including the Stafford House, transformed for the holiday season by gifted local decorators.
This ninth annual Christmas House Tour is scheduled for December 6 and 7, 2014 from 10:30am to 3:30pm daily and is sure to delight.
To see the historic Stafford House and an additional 7 unique and lovely homes featured in the Tour:
Tickets for $30 are now on sale at the following vendors:
Almonte Crush Marketplace 14 Mill Street 613-461-2211
Kingston Oderin Kitchen Supplies 57 Brock Street 613-531-4544
Merrickville Unravelled 108 St. Lawrence Street 613-655-1902
Ottawa Tivoli Florist 282 Richmond Road 613-729-6911
Perth Home Furniture 18 Gore Street East 613-264-9876
Smiths Falls Elizabeth Interiors 8 Chambers Street 613-283-7581
Ticket enquiries 613-267-2270
November 10, 2014
A Flag on Her Coffin
She told us many times over the years, that she wanted a Canadian flag draped on her coffin. She was proud to have served her country, and so, when our Mother died in 2007, we contacted the Legion in Perth, and they were quick to deliver a flag to the visitation room and place it solemnly over her casket at Blair and Son Funeral Home.
When a dozen Legion members arrived at the funeral home before the visitation began, they handed each of us a poppy and requested that we lay them on top of the flag at the close of their ceremony.
They marched into the room to the melancholy strains of the bagpipes, fittingly, as our Mother’s ancestors hailed from Roxburghshire, Scotland. The Legion members, all in uniform, proudly wearing their medals, filed by, and paused to greet each one of our family. These were not young soldiers, but many were in the later stages of their lives, and most were veterans of WWII, like our Mother. They were the survivors, who had witnessed many fallen comrades, but through the grace of God had been spared, and had lived, some burdened with dark memories of the war.
Often, at this time of year I recall Mother’s quiet patriotism. She was, after all, a first generation Canadian. Her father, an American, born along the shores of the St. Lawrence River in New York State, and her mother hailed from Huddersfield, England, but Mother, born at the Royal Alexandra Hospital in Edmonton, Alberta, was all Canadian.
She never missed an opportunity to vote in an election, and would remind us that battles were fought and lives were lost so that we could have this privilege. She embraced freedom of speech and the freedom to choose one’s religion.
After her funeral, the five of us went through her things and picked a few precious items to bring home as keepsakes. I spotted her journal sitting on top of a pile of books, picked it up, and began to flip through the pages. A small tattered piece of paper fell onto the floor. It was an old news clipping, brown and brittle with age, that she had cut out and saved, many years ago. As I began to read it, I realized how much the words summed up our Mother’s beliefs:
IT IS THE SOLDIER – by – Charles M. Province
It is the Soldier, not the minister
Who has given us freedom of religion.
It is the Soldier, not the reporter
Who has given us freedom of the press.
It is the Soldier, not the poet
Who has given us freedom of speech.
It is the Soldier, not the campus organizer
Who has given us freedom to protest.
It is the Soldier, not the lawyer
Who has given us the right to a fair trial.
It is the Soldier, not the politician
Who has given us the right to vote.
It is the Soldier who salutes the flag,
Who serves beneath the flag,
And whose coffin is draped by the flag,
Who allows the protester to burn the flag.
This blog in memory of Cpl. Audry Rutherford (Stafford) R.C.A.F. W.D.
October 18, 2014
Autumn Passages
“Listen! The wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves,
We have had our summer evenings, now for October eves!”
Humbert Wolfe
October began with a kaleidoscope of colour stretching from ground to sky, as far as you could see, and it ended with grey horizons, bare trees and cold winds, sometimes even snow.
Although some of our trees seemed to turn just one shade of orange or yellow, many of them were ablaze with every hue from the palest yellow, the brightest orange, three or four different shades of green, to the bright, clear reds all competing for attention as they fluttered in the cool winds of autumn. The colours were so beautiful that often we would try to preserve them by waxing the leaves and putting them between the pages of a book.
Walking through our yard I’d pick out the biggest and brightest leaves I could find. I’d seek out the perfect ones that hadn’t been torn by the winds or chewed by insects. I’d try to get a nice variety of bright green, lemony yellow and of course the stars of the show were the brilliant oranges and rich, shiny reds. I’d bring them into the house and Mother would get out her tube of waxed paper, the iron and the ancient, battered, ironing board. That old thing had seen better days! We’d place each leaf between folded sheets of waxed paper and sometimes cover them with a tea towel and press down with the hot iron. When we finished, I’d take my treasures and store them carefully between the pages of a thick book and place them on a shelf of the bookcase in the living room.
Pressing the brightest leaves and saving them in a book was my way of trying to hold onto the season and make it last. It was the brightest, most beautiful time of the year and I wanted it to stay with us as long as possible. Of course like most things in life, it didn’t last, and bit by bit the north winds came, and the nights grew colder and one by one the leaves blew off of the trees, and the cruel frost stole their colours away.
Overnight, it seemed that our yard changed from a bright, happy carnival of colour into a stark, eerie, cold and barren place, gloomy and silent, waiting for the onset of winter. It was during those last weeks of October that I’m sure we could have rented out our yard to a production company to film a spooky horror movie. The tall, imposing maple trees stood bare and dark against the evening skies. Most of the birds had gone south for the winter and so the yard was quiet; too quiet.
The sun slipped down behind Mitchell’s barn earlier each night and sometimes I’d be nervous walking up the laneway or back the side road. I rode my bike a little quicker back from Cavanagh’s store; not just because the air was cooler, but because it was deathly quiet and the leafless trees cast long, ominous shadows across the Third Line as I made my way back home. Why did the places and things that seemed so natural and so comfortable a few short weeks ago suddenly seem dark and ominous?
I think it all boiled down to three things: heat, light and colour. Over the course of the eight weeks beginning in early September to the last few days of October, we lost all three. It happened gradually of course; not all at once. The heat left first and although the first part of September was almost like summer, it was as if someone was turning down a giant thermostat a couple of degrees each day. The light left slowly as well, a minute at a time, over the days and weeks, then came the end of daylight savings time and the light was reduced to a brief eight hours or so each day. The colour was the last to go and hung on bravely until the frost came and the leaves turned a murky shade of lifeless orange and were so brittle that they could be crushed like egg shells.
The transition from summer to fall that we witnessed each year might have seemed daunting, even depressing to someone new to the area. Being Lanark County kids we just took it in our stride, knowing that this, like our other three seasons, was only temporary. Dealing with the changing seasons whether the change seemed like a positive or negative thing was a good lesson to carry with us in life. We learned to make the best of whatever was thrown at us.
So every fall as the winds grew cooler and the dusk came earlier, our thoughts would turn to Hallowe’en. Our stark, colourless yards looked spooky anyway, so we made the best of it! We didn’t fret because summer was gone; we made the most of the gloomy new season by making plans for the scariest night of the year! It was time to scrounge around, put together our best costumes and get our candy sacks ready for that annual trek up and down the Third Line!
(excerpt from: “Lanark County Calendar – Four Seasons on the Third Line” )
ISBN 978-0-9877026-3-0
