Buckets #11 and 12. Twelve gallons of raspberries picked now (13 if I count the one a friend picked and took home), 6 to make 10 Gallons of wine, 4 to make 18 pints of jam. These 2 buckets will be made into juice concentrate, some of which I will use to make jelly for a few friends who hate seeds. Next picking will be frozen in packets for winter treats and whatever is left will go for more juice.
So that’s what’s happening out here in the woods…
In February I had a plane ticket to Denver in hand, planning to go south to help my sister move, when what we now describe as a series of unfortunate events began to unfold. First I got a letter from the agency that brings the mobile mammogram unit to town, saying further investigation was required and that my family doctor would contact me. I planned to ignore all that until I returned from my trip but no, suddenly I had an appointment at the Cross Cancer Institute for further testing. This ended in a biopsy (negative), a procedure that really wasn't all that big of a deal except that I experienced sharp pains in the area of my breast where they stuck the needle until just recently, and this gave me cause for concern. This concern was inconsequential according to the Cross Institute people and my doctor, but not so inconsequential to me. And getting travel insurance for my trip when the results of this test were as yet unavailable? No way. Pre-existing condition, they said. Actually it seems like you can’t have anything wrong with you at all and get travel insurance, at least from Blue Cross.
As it turned out I didn't need travel insurance anyhow. I never made that trip in February. Why? It all started with treacherously icy ground conditions causing both myself and my husband to fall. I, having a layer of biological padding to protect my body, didn't hurt myself. My husband, though, broke 4 ribs. Thus began our (mostly his) series of unfortunate events. Several days after X-rays and gaining the knowledge that the ribs were broken, an injury that only time will repair, he began to experience acute abdominal pain. Off we went to emergency in the early morning only to be sent home with a diagnosis of constipation and a powerful laxative which did not work, then back to emergency the same afternoon and off to the Royal Alexandra Hospital in Edmonton via ambulance. Obstructed bowel. Immediate surgery (very successful), long hospital stay, recovery.
In the meantime, my sister’s move was still on the agenda. She has Parkinson’s Disease with accompanying health and mobility problems. She is unmarried. I’m her only sibling. She was feeling pressured by health care practitioners, by the decisions required when downsizing from a huge home to a small apartment, and everyone involved suddenly decided I was the one to take care of it all. Her friends helped her pack and I orchestrated the move right down to hiring the movers - all from 1500 miles away. Needless to say I spent hours on the phone.
With all the X-rays and CT scans done for the ribs and obstructed bowel, an older injury requiring surgery, probably made worse by the fall, was discovered - a hole in the diaphragm (hernia) that was so large that organs were residing in wrong places in the body cavity. It was suggested that it was best to recover from operation number one before having operation number two - perhaps wait until late summer or fall.
But this blog is not about the series of unfortunate events, its about the kindness of friends. A good friend drove me to Cross Cancer, a friend who had been there before, who was both knowledgeable, supportive and knew her way through the city to the other side. I have a fear of city driving unless I know exactly where I’m going. I have consistent paths to follow to places I go and off path driving makes me nervous. Add winter to that equation and my comfort level is severely compromised. I’m fine with local driving, partly because I know I can stay home if the weather is nasty. But when you have an appointment, well, you pretty well gotta go, bad weather or not.
With my husband in hospital winter city driving became a necessity. I think I only drove once. Every other time someone kindly drove me in, paid for the gas, visited with my husband, and kept me company.
One day I came home and there was a stack of split firewood piled up next to the house.
Another day my entire wood pile got split, even leaving a special stack of easy to split blocks for making kindling. Neighbors I seldom see called and offered help!
A good friend came with a stock trailer and picked up our flock of sheep and one guardian dog. He and his wife lambed them out for us in late March and April, got them sheared and are still caring for them right down to selling the lambs. They are bringing them back in breeding season (November), and we’re hoping to have another batch of guardian pups from Josie in the fall. This has been a tremendous help, we couldn't have managed with the sheep at home.
My son came from southern Alberta to build an enclosure for our bee hive, and came once again with his family, built a railing on our balcony, and then we celebrated his and my younger granddaughter’s birthday.
While in recovery from the first operation my husband made a quick trip to Seattle to see his sister who also had Parkinson’s and whose health was failing rapidly. She died a few days after he returned home.
In early June I did finally make that trip to Colorado to help my sister out. I helped to get her better settled in her new place after “springing” her from a rehabilitation home where she was placed after a fall that she incurred several days before I was due to fly. She was quite depressed, hated the rehab place, just wanted to get back to her life but was caught in the health care system. While in Colorado I was able to see what a great place my sister chose to live, a senior friendly environment with many extra services available as required, where she can keep her cat, and which has delicious food! I worked with her realtor to remove the remainder of the furniture and what-nots from my sister’s now unoccupied house to make it ready to place on the market. Pending some inspections, as far as I know the house has sold, securing my sister’s financial future.
My husband decided he wanted to get the second operation over with in the summer time - a better time to recover and, if complications occurred, a better time to drive to the city. So, two days after my return from Colorado he had the diaphragm operation and is currently in recovery mode. By June of course, the weather posed no driving problems, and I now know about 6 different paths to get to the hospital. Friends continue to call, offering any help we may need.
Now that my husband is at home recovering, and unable to lift, push or pull anything heavier than 10 pounds for at least 2 months, I’ve become chief chore person. I cannot handle our garden tiller, it is heavy and hard to control. The other day two friends arrived with a tiller and a hoe. My gardens are now looking exceptionally beautiful, weed free, and the potatoes are hilled. Our next door neighbor has bees and has offered to help with any lifting required in honey production.
On another point, during both hospital stays, though occasionally somewhat chaotic in a four person ward giving rise to some tales to tell, my husband received excellent care. The surgeons who operated were attentive and outstandingly qualified. The nurses were efficient and most were pleasant. Because of our health care system, we incurred no costs but parking and gas. I can’t imagine how terrible it would be to have a financial burden added to our series of unfortunate events.
I am so grateful. Throughout all this I occasionally felt overwhelmed but I never felt alone, I didn't feel like I had to handle everything by myself, and I am super appreciative of the fact that people had, and still have, a genuine desire to help out. Even though it seems a lot happened all at once it has been wonderful to experience the generosity of our friends and neighbors. Perhaps some day we’ll have an opportunity to pay it forward.
Remember those mosquitoes? In an attempt to control them, that is keep their numbers down close to home, we keep our grass cut. This is no small feat during prime growing season. We have over time expanded our yard to nearly 1/2 acre. It takes almost 2 hours on a riding mower once a week to keep it a reasonable length.
But mosquitoes aren't the only reason for our industrious grass cutting marathon, there's other equally important things - like beauty, fire protection, keeping the dew on the long grass from soaking your pants to the knees, making it easy to see things you wouldn't want to step on ( dog poop, frogs, bees, sharp twigs), keeping weeds under control…
Believe it or not, I really enjoy mowing grass! I used to be quite proud of myself for walking behind a gas self-propelled mower, good exercise and all that. But in those days I was a bit younger and I had my sheep to help.
Our sheep are currently living elsewhere until body repairs allow us to work with them once again, so for now it's up to us humans to cut the grass. The sheep on the lawn served a twofold purpose, fertilization and mowing. Because of them we took the mower out far less frequently, and a plus side to this was how much they kept the long grass in the adjacent bush cut down. So, do we miss our sheep? You bet we do…especially the lambs. It's like we missed a whole season - lambing season - that season that heralds spring, the one before garden planting season. Now we’re into growing season (weeding, mowing, tilling), soon it’ll be harvest season (picking, canning, freezing), then winter prep season (firewood, hay, straw, butchering), then wine making season (I make my wine with frozen berries, not enough time during harvest), then breeding season (that's when we hope to be bring our flock back home), and finally, winter (the time we reap what we have sown). Then the seasonal cycle begins all over again.
I enjoy the balance seasons bring to life. I welcome each season when it arrives, and yet am never sad to see one season replaced by the next. I would not enjoy living in a place where the word “seasonal” meant nothing, where the words “unseasonable weather” meant nothing, or where the winter solstice didn’t make me sigh with relief because the days are beginning to lengthen and the summer solstice didn't signal a happy celebration of long summer days. Change makes sense to me, beginnings, processes, endings, life’s rhythm. Like the song written by Pete Seeger, using words from the Bible, and later recorded by the Byrds (and many others) -
There is a season, turn, turn, turn,
And a time, to every purpose under heaven.
The
imply "Turn! Turn! Turn!", is a song written"Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is a Season)", or simply "Turn! Turn! Turn!", is a song writ the late 1950s. The lyrics, except for the title, which is repeated throughout the song and the final two lines, are adapted word-for-word from the English version of the first eight verses of t in the late 1950s. The lyrics, except for the title, which is repeated throughout the song and the final two lines, are adapted word-for-word from the English version of the first
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under heaven
A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together
To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under heaven
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing
To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under heaven
A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time for love, a time for hate
A time for peace, I swear it's
