Archives for the month of: September, 2009

Big Wheels Keep on Turning

September 29, 09 //

Can I tell you a secret?

Time moves really fast.

I’m not kidding. One minute you’re nineteen, and the next minute you’re twenty-seven.

One minute you’re on the cusp of a big adventure, and the next minute you’ve achieved your dream and you’ve been living your dream for almost two years.

This was supposed to be a “one-year experiment.” Let me tell you, one year is nothing. One year goes by like that.

This is me yelling from the top of a giant bale of hay that the next year is coming. That you’re in the moment now, but that in a blink of an eye you won’t even remember what you did this month let alone today.

Time just flies.

Well, you knew that already, right? “So what,” right?

My point is to stop waiting.

Stop waiting to do whatever it is that you want to do. Stop waiting to tell her you love her or to write that book or join that club or lose those ten pounds. Just do it.

I’ve been going through a “what should I do with my life” moment, hence, I’m reading a book by the same name.

Author Po Bronson’s contention in terms of what we should do with our lives:

“Most of us don’t get epiphanies. We only get a whisper–a faint urge. That’s it. That’s the call. It’s up to you to do the work of discovery, to connect it to an answer.”

That totally scares me. I’d been under the impression that some people just really know what it is that they want. But what if it turns out that Po Bronson is right? That nobody knows for sure. That all we get is a faint whiff of what we really want? Is that all there is?

If so, then we’d better listen. And act now.

Because time flies, and the big wheel keeps on turning.

Giant Pumpkin Experiment – The Results!

September 24, 09 //

Once upon a time, in a world far far away, I thought that I’d have time to grow a pumpkin. I had an idea (thanks to a pumpkin-crazed friend) that we should all grow pumpkins.

I sent a call out to the world, yelling, “Get your pumpkin seeds here! Get y’r pumpkin seeds here, everybody!”

The world responded. I happily sent little pumpkin seed packages (seeds all courtesy of my friend Christy, giant pumpkin guru!) all over North America: from right here in PEI all the way east to Pender Island, BC and way down the southern coast to Georgia.

All told, ten pumpkin seed packages were hurtled to:

Lynden, WA
Pender Island, BC
East Lawrencetown, NS
Charlottetown, PE
Kinross, PE
Van Dyne, WI
Ladysmith, BC
Fortson, GA
Montague, PE
Lawrenceville, GA
Plus, I kept a package for myself (which I failed to plant because…because… Well, I just didn’t do it.)

The rules were as follows:

1. I will send you a couple of pumpkin seeds.

2. Do whatever you want with them. Plant them, feed them to monkeys, throw them in that junk drawer that has safety pins and matches and pens and half-dead batteries all jumbled up together. (I hope you have a drawer like that, too?)

Pumpkin seeds went out, and I plumb forgot all about the pumpkin experiment. A few months later, a trickle of pumpkin emails visited my inbox. In no particular order:

1. Lynden, WA: Planted? Yes! Success? Not with pumpkins, but success with many other important life successes!

“I gave those little ingrates every shot at a long, fruitful life (get it? Fruitful?), but they refused to sprout. I tried many things, and all I got was mold (I think they just needed a good soaking right off the bat; even then, it’s a crapshoot with seeds, as they’re just kinda fickle like that). They’ve been given one last shot to prove themselves, as I tucked them away in the otherwise-successful victory garden (which doubles as a convenient seed cemetery).

“Hey, I tried. And you tried to help me. Let’s just remember in our old age that they flourished and I had one hell of a huge pumpkin to show for it!”

2. Pender Island, BC: Planted? Yes! Success? Yes!

This girl’s got a green thumb. And when I say green, I mean, really green.

“Thought I’d give you an update on our giant pumpkin plant. We have a very humongous pumpkin forming.”

No kidding!

3. East Lawrencetown, NS: Planted? Yes! Success? Yes!

East Lawrencetown has pumpkins up the ying yang. She planted big ones and small ones and now she’s got pumpkins coming out of her ears in a giant shmozzle of pumpkins!

She’s not sure which ones are which, but who cares? Pumpkins galore=success!

In the words of East Lawrencetown, NS, “Now they’re all mixed up.”

4. Charlottetown, PE: Planted? Yes! Success? Yes, until nature took a nasty turn!

I heard through the Facebook grapevine that Charlottetown’s pumpkin didn’t make it: “Now they are sitting in two little pots outside on the step. One hasn’t done anything, the other is just a little green stick…Â Maybe I’ve killed them?”

For some silly reason I then began referring to Charlottetown as “The Pumpkin Killer.” I’m not sure why I would do such a thing.

This is my official apology, Charlottetown. You gave them a chance, you watched them grow, you nurtured them and reported on their every growth spurt.

Sometimes these things just aren’t meant to be. You are not a pumpkin killer! You loved your pumpkins and helped them grow. Tragedy struck. And that is all there is to it.

5. Kinross, PE: Planted? No. Wonderful gal? Yes.

Kinross, god love her, is just like me! She has a crazy life that did not allow for pumpkins.

Nope, no sir, no time for pumpkins. I can totally relate.

“I’m ashamed to say that I am pumpkin-less also. Alas, they are still sitting on top of the fridge. Every weekend I would say to myself I should really read those directions I printed off and get this pumpkin rolling. Yes…that never happened. I can chalk it up to is life happened…*sigh*. I’ve been dreaming of pumpkins though!”

Yep, Kinross is a girl after my own heart. Life happens!

6. Van Dyne, WI: Planted? Yes. No sprouting though…

“Alas, planted ours but they didn’t sprout. Disappointed but kind of glad my garden isn’t completely taken over with pumpkin vines. I’m content with the carrots, beans, and peas right now.Â We’re picking our first batch of beans for eating tonight!”

Those pumpkin seeds are elusive buggers. Some sprout, some don’t. Keeps life interesting!

7. Ladysmith, BC: Planted? Yes. Success? Yes!

A month or two ago Ladysmith sent me these glorious pictures along with the following message:

“Here are 2 pictures of the pumpkins. I mean the pumpkin leaves, branches and green stuff. There are no actual pumpkins yet. I wonder when the pumpkins start to show up?”

Since these pictures were taken, I recently interviewed Ladysmith on the telephone about her pumpkins.

My cryptic handwritten notes from the phone call:

Unshapely
In need of nutrients and water
Was kind of yellow, now turning orange
Somewhere between a softball and a soccer ball in size
Not a perfect pumpkin shape
Slightly odd

Success!

8. Montague, PE: Planted? Yes. Success? Good planting, no sprouting. Many other projects on the go though!

“I did plant one pumpkin seed in each of two large pots on my patio. Maybe because of the backward summer so far they have not sprouted.above the soil.”

Never mind that. Sowing the seeds is the important thing!

9. Lawrenceville, GA: Planted? No. Graduated from University? Yes! Busy lady? Yes!

“I do confess that I am (sadly) pumpkin-free just like you.”

That’s okay, Lawrenceville. Rome wasn’t built in a day. There will be time for pumpkins for you and me both.

That sums up the pumpkin status updates!

All told I’m pleased and amazed with the smattering of different experiences and results. None of us grew REALLY SUPER GIANT pumpkins, but that’s a testament to the amount of work it does take to grow a superhuman freaky pumpkin.

So, was this a contest?

No. There are no winners or losers.

There were just people digging their hands in the dirt and watching things grow. And that, my friends, makes winners of us all.

Snow Boots

September 19, 09 //

It was precisely one week before we began our cross-country adventure. We were about to leave the warm and rainy west coast to drive across Canada in the middle of winter. In one week we would be willingly driving through snow, blizzards, and ice.

I was a west coast city girl. I had high heels, sneakers, and tall black boots with heels. I didn’t own snow boots.

One week before we left, I bolted awake in the middle of night. “My feet!” I gasped. “I will be cold! We will careen off the side of the highway on the Coquihalla Highway in a blizzard. The impact will knock Cameron unconscious. Blood will drip down his ivory temple. It’ll be up to me to find help.

“I’ll be wearing jeans and high heel shoes. The snow will be three feet deep. I’ll lose my strappy heels in the snow. I’ll be trying to find help, walking barefoot in the snow with only night-shade nylons to keep me warm. Eventually, I will collapse from the cold. I will fall asleep in a snowbank and perish overnight. Cameron will never wake up from being knocked unconscious. He too will die. All because of my high heels.”

The next morning, I lay in bed staring at Cameron until he woke up. He opened his eyes.

“Were you just lying there staring at me while I was sleeping?” He asked in a suspicious morning voice.

“Yes,” I answered, “but we need snow boots. We forgot to buy snow boots. If we don’t buy snow boots we’ll die a terrible death because of my high heels.”

“What?” He said.

“It doesn’t matter. Listen, we need to buy snow boots. Let’s go shopping.”

We spent the day at a mall. It was difficult to find snow boots in Victoria, BC. (There’s not much snow there.) We wandered around aimlessly. We found a pair of $150 boots that would have worked, but we both scoffed at the price tag. Eventually we returned home–without snow boots.

That night, I went to bed worrying. “Boots, I need boots.” I muttered as I drifted off to a nightmare about being bootless.

The next morning, I browsed online at local buy, sell and trade websites. I found the following advertisement: “Used boys snow boots. Size 6. $5. Please call.”

I called the number in the advertisement.

“Hi there,” I said, “I’m calling about the boys boots you have for sale?”

“Yes, I’ve still got them,” she said. “They were my son’s.”

“Great, when can I come and look at them?” I asked.

She paused. “Are they for your son?” She asked.

“Um, no, they’re for me.”

“Oh.” She paused. “They’re not very nice, you know. They’re boys boots.”

“I know, it’s okay. I just need them in case of emergencies.”

She really didn’t want me to buy her son’s boots. She was very suspicious of the whole affair. Finally, she caved in and said that I could come take a look at them right away.

I drove across town to the lady’s home.

By the time I arrived at the tall, well-manicured home it was dark. I rang the doorbell.

A tall, well-manicured lady answered the door. She looked me up and down, presumably wondering what kind of twenty-something woman wanted to buy her young son’s boots.

In silence, she handed me the boots. Balancing on one leg and then the other, I slipped her son’s boots on. They fit perfectly. I quickly fished out two toonies and a loonie from my purse and shunted the money towards her. With narrow eyes she accepted the money. As I was leaving, I noticed her twelve-year old son peering down from an upstairs landing, silently watching and wondering why such a woman would want his $5 boots.

As it turns out, these very $5 “emergency” boots became my daily footwear on our month-long trip.

In fact, those unfashionable, velcroed $5 boots have seen me through two winters and are about to guide me into my third winter.

This morning, Cameron was cleaning out our shed, and he asked me whether he should throw out my unfashionable snow boots. I thought about his question and I thought about the boots.

I don’t wear these $5 boots out in public, but I sure am glad that I have them around. I’ve decided to keep them. I’ll use them to bring in firewood, wander through our back woods on a snowy walk, cut down this year’s Christmas tree, among the many other unforeseen adventures that this winter will bring.

If that well-manicured boot selling woman could see me now, I think she’d nod, smile, and happily hand over her son’s boots. I think she’d say, “Good luck and enjoy.”

Dunn Creek Farm

September 10, 09 //

We recently visited John Quimby of Dunn Creek Farm who was kind enough to have us over for a tour of his certified organic farm in Murray Harbour North.

He was also kind enough to stuff us full of organic veggies at his kitchen table and send us home with baskets of organic potatoes, yellow beans, carrots, head lettuce and sweet cucumbers.

Cameron and I first met John last year at the Dundas Plowing Match, where we were admiring his table of veggies. One thing led to another, and suddenly Cameron and I were munching on broccoli, and John and I were exchanging blog addresses.

John’s farm is depressing inspirational. Where our garden is (a) non-existent; and (b) overgrown; John’s got tidy, bountiful rows of produce.

Here I am in awe of John’s organization. I am trying to look tidy and straight, can you tell?

John showed us his hay-loft, barns, chickens, horses, greenhouse, house, and fields, during which I asked very astute questions:

Laura-Jane: “How do you plant the seeds in there?”

Dunn Creek Farm: “We broadcasted these. It’s fun.”

Laura-Jane (pauses): “Um, broadcasted, like, threw them in?”

Dunn Creek Farm (laughs): “Yes, exactly.”

Laura-Jane: “What are these, grains?”

Dunn Creek Farm: “Yes, these are oats.”

Laura-Jane: “Ah, of course, oats.”

(30 seconds elapses.)

Laura-Jane: “Uh, what are these grains again?”

Dunn Creek Farm (patiently and with a smile): “Oats!”

Country living… I like it, but it doesn’t come naturally to me.

Big thanks to John for a lovely afternoon. Be sure to check out John and family’s blog and podcasts!

I Needed a Vision

September 3, 09 //

The past year has been full of glee, glory, stress, change, beauty and floundering.

After we arrived here on PEI and purchased our beloved Whimfield home, we’d achieved our goal–our life-dream. Our goal had been years in the making. The preceding years had been focused on working towards achieving our goal of selling everything, moving across the country and buying our dream home.

I didn’t realize until yesterday that since we achieved that goal I’d been floundering. My brain has been pulsing, “Now what?”

We bought the house of our dreams and winterized it. That was as far as my goal-oriented dreams had taken me. But I’d never stopped to plan, “What’s next?” Life is full of decisions, and I’ve been feeling betwixt and between. Without an overall life-goal, I have no reference point to help me make decisions.

Life really is full of decisions:

Natural hair color or reddish brown from a box?
A wardrobe full of high-heels and tight skirts or full of make-do jeans and second-hand shirts?
Make time for gardening or spend every spare moment on my business?
Career or simple life? What’s more important to me?
Spend money or save money?
Are we staying or are we going?
Kitten or no kitten?
Children or no children?
Right or left?
Vegetarian or lover of seafood?
Do I love being self-employed or do I hate myself for it?
Should I send for my cello or should I leave it where it is?
Make time to relax or go-go-go?
Make friends or hide under a rock?
Do I love people and the human race or do I really want to fly away in a bubble all by myself?
What makes me happy, anyway?
Do I want all this?
What is important to me?
Was I happier before? Am I happy now?
Maybe I should go back to school? Become a writer, teacher, counselor, baker…?
What is my plan?????

Aarg! Pop! Brain explosion!

In order to answer the majority of these questions, I need a goal ahead of me to help me assess which decision is the right one. For example, if we’re going to stay in this house for next ten years, sure, a kitten fits in well with this plan. However, if the plan is to set off on another adventure when the timing is right, then best to forego the kitten and concentrate on the task at hand.

Similarly, I bought a box of hair-dye six months ago. I keep picking up the box and transferring it from hand to hand, looking in the mirror. It’s not that I worry about dying my hair; it’ll grow back. I’ve been a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead–that’s not the issue. The issue is that I don’t have a vision of my future so I don’t know what color my hair should be. Does that make sense?

I am floundering. My future could have a million paths and I can see them all.

Do I like being known for this blog or do I want to recede into anonymity?
Do I like being known as a business-owner or do I want to recede into anonymity?

These past few months have been tumultuous. I’ve flip-flopped; I’ve headed in one direction–on one path–only to stop and turn around again. I’ve been gloriously happy one moment and in the doldrums the next, longing for another path.

I now realize that I need a plan. I need a dream to keep me focused. I need to be working towards something. I need to pick a path.

But then I ask myself, “Why do you need something more? The trick is to be happy in the now. Don’t look toward the future. ‘It’ll be better when…’ and ‘I’ll be happy as soon as…’No. Be happy now. ”

When I started this blog, it was so obvious and everything came easily to me. I was on a path and was so focused on getting to my destination. This past year has not had that same clarity.

I recently realized all this and decided that it was time to sit down and re-evalute everything.

I’ve finally got this next year’s path committed in my mind. Finally, I know where I’m going and it sure feels good.

Big Wheels Keep on Turning

Giant Pumpkin Experiment – The Results!

Snow Boots

Dunn Creek Farm

I Needed a Vision

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