Author: carin

ways of spreading holiday cheer: #1

~ carin ~ 1 Comment

Find a lonely tree that needs some love.

Add baubles.

—Voila!

When I saw two very merry women giggling in their sneakers, throwing tinsel onto this tree—all rosy cheeks and grey hair (god bless femmes d’un certain age)—I just had to stop, didn’t I.  They looked a little tense as I walked over, then one says Oh, man, for a minute there we thought you were the cops. I considered pointing out that I drive a toast coloured Toyota, but they’re already back to laughing and when I ask why they’re decorating the tree, they say for fun.

Of course!

Makes sense to me.

Although popcorn or cranberry garlands are preferable to tinsel. Better for wildlife.
And don’t forget to clean up after the hols!

~

this is not a review: stunt, by claudia dey

~ carin ~ 8 Comments

I don’t have a lot of guilt about giving up on a book that hasn’t got me riveted by, say, page 100. But that still doesn’t make it easy. Before crying Uncle I tend first to do a kind of dithery dance: close the covers, open them a few hours later, close them, consider another book, open its covers, then go back to the original, skim a few chapters.

And so on for a day or two.

By which time I could have read the bloody thing.

Much easier of course is a book so outright awful (or just really not my cup of tea at that moment) that it inspires me to slam it shut and move on without the hint of a dither. It happens but it’s rare.

Even rarer is a book I consider giving up on but don’t, and then end up not only glad I didn’t pull the plug, but thrilled that I didn’t. Claudia Dey’s Stunt is such a book.

It’s narrated by a young girl searching for her runaway father. The setting is Toronto: the islands, Parkdale, ravines. Much of her journey is internal, much bopping back and forth in time, and peopled with characters so quirky I sometimes couldn’t distinguish between what she’s living and what she imagines. Which is the whole lovely point of course.

Having said that, it felt long in places. Too much of a good thing is still too much and by page 100 I was saying: enough; it’s all beautiful poetic writing that circles and circles but I keep losing track of the story; is there a story??  But when I tried to stop, I couldn’t. That hypnotic circling poetry kept prancing round my head and so I continued and by the time I finished I wanted to start all over again. And I will.

Not for the story—but for the language.

And for the place Dey’s word magic ultimately takes both us and the narrator—back to ourselves with sharpened senses—the way senses can only be sharpened after a particularly breathtaking ride.

Language always wins.

“I wake to you standing above me, grinning. You should have bird feathers between your teeth. A thermos of coffee and a bag of worms in your hands. Apples in your suit pockets making you the many-breasted Artemis, goddess of the beasts. Boots grinding the carpeted floor, you are flinging sparks. Secret. And suddenly we are on your bicycle and we are, with your fist in the air, heading southeast to fish and to make fire!,our house and the life that we stage within it shrinking behind us to a dot on a map—instantly, the Old World. How far will we go? The Scarborough Bluffs? The Orient? And will we ever go back? Or should I start to memorize my mother’s face now? My sister’s? Every night I ask myself this question, and every night we return home, smelling like fire.”  —From Stunt, by Claudia Dey, Coach House Books, 2008
~

a cougar fighting donkey of my own

~ carin ~ 13 Comments

 
Ever since I met a woman a few years ago at a B&B in Okanagan Falls who had a lot of donkey chachkies around the place—enough that I ended up asking So what’s with all the donkeys? and she answered with some lovely donkey stories and streams of trivia, all of which become thin and boring in translation/reality because you really had to be there [on holiday, drinking B.C wine around a stone fireplace]—I’ve been slightly mad for the big-eared furry beasts.

In fact, one of my goals is to have a guard donkey on my as yet to be acquired vast country estate. I’ve heard they’re extremely proprietary and can easily take down cougars and other things that prowl about on country estates, vast and otherwise. (Not that I have anything against cougars.)

So the other day when I’m driving from point A to point B and pass a donkey standing in a field—which for some reason hardly ever happens—well, I had to turn around of course and take some pictures. I was happy enough just zooming in on the beautiful thing way off in the distance.

Never dreamed it would walk across the whole field…
…right over to the fence
…and stand right in front of me
…which I took as a sign of kinship—it obviously felt my donkey-loving vibes.
A very happy Dr. Dolittle moment.
Then it did this.
Followed by this.
Being smitten, I chose to take this as a message of welcome, good humour and a general attempt at communication (though I’ve been told it’s more likely a message of If you haven’t got any carrots would you mind getting off my property or you’ll leave me no choice but to do my famous cougar move…)

Which is exactly the kind of donkey you want to have.

more than just stuff

~ carin ~ 1 Comment

In 1947 Mr. and Mrs. Albert A. Walker of Whitby, Ontario, sent a box of local honey to Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip as a gift for their (Nov.20th) wedding. Just a bit of trivia I recently stumbled upon but which got me thinking about some of the very peculiar things Peter and I received for our wedding and how, really, in many cases we would have preferred honey.

Which got me thinking about gift giving in general and how we choose what we choose and how you can always tell the ‘real’ gifts from the ones that were purchased just in the nick of time. And the clue is never in the cost or the size or the gift wrapping.

Which got me thinking about the upcoming gift season specifically. And how I’m so tired of stuff. Tired of getting it, giving it, moving it around, hauling boxes of it to the Sally Ann, putting even more into storage bins (that have to be purchased, which = more stuff), and above all, lamenting the fact you can no longer burn things in back yard oil drums in the manner my father once disposed of an entire living room suite.

So this year, inspired by the very clever and unpretentious Walkers, I’m giving as many non-stuff gifts as possible (although, admittedly, I do love picking up bits for people throughout the year and especially on snowy nights in December).

IN ANY CASE, ON MY NON-STUFF LIST SO FAR:

Donkeys (sponsored ones from The Donkey Sanctuary of Canada); who wouldn’t want a little donkey in their stocking? 

Backyard Bird Counting Kits  from Bird Studies Canada.  I just love this idea. BSC is grateful for the birdy info over the winter months and what a fun activity for the whole family to get people away from the you-know-what long enough to realize that ohmygodlookthere’s wildlifeinthebackyard!

An IOU for a month of fresh produce from a local CSA farmer. CSA has become hugely popular at my local market where, every week through the growing season, there’s a long line of baskets for ‘members’ filled with the best of whatever’s ready for picking at that time. You never know what your order will be from week to week, kind of like a veggie grab bag, which makes it fun. And it’s always the very best quality. No seconds. (CSA farmers are in markets all over rural and urban Ontario. A perfect gift. Better even than honey.)

A lynx, a wolf, a great horned owl… from Aspen Valley Wildlife Sanctuary, where all the animals have been rescued from one horrific situation or another. Bears have been taken out of bad circus acts; lions out of homes that purchased the cubs as pets; wildlife hurt by cars or guns or traps. If they’re lucky, wild animals in need end up at Aspen Valley where they’re rehabilitated with the goal of being returned to their natural homes. If return to the wild isn’t possible, they live on hundreds of acres and acres of open spaces in as natural a setting as can be provided. A brilliant place to spend an afternoon. No glitz or glam. These people, in their wellies and windbreakers, are the real deal in their appreciation and understanding of animals. Definitely not a petting zoo. But if you’re interested in learning, or teaching your kids, about animals in a real (non entertainment, non-zoo-ish way), it makes for one great outing. (Note: if you go, bring a box of old towels, blankets or pillows, or various other items they’d be grateful to have. Check the website.)

Subscriptions to Canadian magazines. Despite ever lowering numbers, there’s a brilliant distilled-to-the-best selection out there. (From a subscription brochure recently received, I counted close to 150 in English, and over 40 in French.) 

Gift certificates to local restaurants. (I’m thinking small increments, tucked into a Xmas card for people I want to just give a little something to; better than a Timmy’s card because Timmy’s is doing fine. Plus I like the idea of community support and maybe even introducing someone to their soon to be new favourite place.)

Always baskets of preserves.

Always art.

Always books.

And honey of course.

~

P.S. Happy Anniversary to the merry Windsors. Wonder what they’ll be giving each other—A handwritten note promising a month of back rubs? Dinner and a game of charades with the kids? Or maybe they’ll just cosy up by the fire together, reminisce and drink heavily…

things i saw

~ carin ~ 5 Comments

— toddler’s blue booted feet dancing in silent but uncontainable excitement as his stroller was pushed toward the door of Scholar’s Choice.

— black and white dog who began pacing on the back seat of a navy blue car, eyes bright as its person approached with a bag of kibble under her arm.

— man in a red beret riding a green bike with a red paisley suitcase strapped to the back.

— nickle from 1945 at the place I buy fresh apple juice; the customer before me had given it in payment and the cashier was thrilled and showed it to me and I was thrilled too and we both wondered for a moment about the nickle’s travels in the past sixty-five years. Or maybe it hadn’t been anywhere, maybe it had been kicking around the same old neighbourhood all that time. It would be interesting to track coins the way we track geese.

Speaking of which—I saw a herd of geese, or maybe ducks, resting in a sunny pond on one side of the road. The kind of scene that will occasionally make me stop, take a breath, and even though it’s just geese and/or ducks and water and reeds and sky—all of which is so easy to take for granted—the brilliant simplicity of it all, the way nature somehow continues to work so perfectly despite…well, us—it always, always fills me with wonder.

On the other side of the road was this…

Which also fills me with wonder. In a different way…

~

when it rains it pours (and i speak in cliches…)

~ carin ~ 2 Comments

As if yesterday’s rain, CNQ, Granta and ARC weren’t enough excitement, today The New Quarterly arrived in my mailbox—which renders me officially not sure where to begin.

As usual, TNQ is visually stunning. A treat simply to hold—another testament to the power of ‘real’ reading material versus an e-version… but I mustn’t digress.

Might begin this one with Kerry Clare’s piece, ‘Love is a Let-Down’, the background of which she writes about so movingly, and maybe follow that with ‘Figures of Speech’, a series of portraits painted by Alan Dayton, of fourteen writers, including Diane Schoemperlen, Sharon English, Steven Heighton, Russell Smith, each of whom were asked to offer commentary on how it feels to see themselves through the eyes of another. Interesting exercise for people whose talent—and business—it is to so easily and cavalierly see others through their eyes. 

My god. And that’s just two.

I think I need more rain.

~