Spring has finally arrived in the Goulais River! Let me hear a w00t! Yes, I'm always excited when Old Man Winter finally moves on to visit other parts of the world. I jump for joy when Mistress Spring hurries Jack Frost back into his frozen lair. I have been celebrating this buzz of activity alot lately and that has been the reason for my absence in the blogosphere. Well also, I've been trying desperately to enjoy as much outdoor time as possible before the arrival of the dreaded Canadian Plague....the black fly! I've been walking on my pleasant country road (no encounters with any bears yet), exploring the beach and frigid waters of Lake Superior, planting a massive vegetable garden with friends and barbecuing large quantities of meat (sorry to my vegetarian and vegan friends).

Celebrating the arrival of spring has a long and storied history all around the globe. Like the celebration of the harvest at the end of the growing season. Most North Americans will be familiar with the ancient Celtic May Day celebrations falling half a year after November 1st and marking the end of the winter months. In India the Festival of Colours celebrates the arrival of spring with a rather raucous party in which people toss coloured powder and water on each other! (Here is the link where I got the info and found some wonderful pics of one such event http://www.sacbee.com/static/weblogs/photos/2009/03/020749.html). For many coffee drinking Canadians, Roll Up the Rim to Win at Timmies is a clue that the cold winter is on its way out. Spring is a time for being thankful for surviving the harsh winter months and preparing for another working and growing season.

Spring can also be a time for personal reflection as it has been for me this year. I moved up here last November with a mixture of all sorts of emotions - excitement, dread, fear, anticipation. The winter months that followed were a time for learning, some difficulty, stretching and ultimately growth. It also reminds me of what God can do for us, if we let him. We need times of darkness, winter so that rebirth and change can occur. Just like we need the darkness of the cross and those days after the crucifixion so we can experience the glory and grace of the resurrection.

I'm looking forward to the coming months. All around my house is life. We've seen and heard more types of birds than I will ever be able to identify. We've fed the birds and the squirrels. We've watched hares run all around our backyard and come to the deck. Flowers and trees all around me are in full bloom. As I mentioned before I'm experiencing a real sense of community as we work together with another couple in planting a vegetable garden. I'm letting go of old pains, baggage that has weighed me down for years. I'm pursuing new adventures. I'm learning to love others truly for who they are. I'm being me, no matter how counter it is to who I have been in the past. Could this be the freedom that God talks about giving us?

Mornings at the Cottage

I had the privilege when I was growing up to spend summers with my grandparents at their cottage on the south shore of Lake Nippissing in Northern Ontario. When I was younger (and when my grandparents were younger!) it would be several weeks at a time. As I grew (and presumably gained more of a "life") the time I spent there decreased. It has been many months since I was last there and may not ever again as my grandparents have decided to sell the cottage (anyone interested please contact me!) and move closer to their children in Southern Ontario.

My mind is infused with the memories, the smells, the sight and sounds of the Northern Ontario Lakescape. I can say with certainty that those times spent at "the cottage" (funny enough, it hasn't officially been the cottage for several years since my grandparents sold their house in town and moved out there full time) have shaped who I am. Throughout the happy times and the sad it has been my safe place, the retreat that I flee to.

I never stopped to think specifically about all of the things that I loved about the cottage until just recently. Foremost it would be the people...my grandparents. They have made it the wonderful place that it is...they built it first of all. They have seen children and grandchildren and great grandchildren there. They have added on, redecorated and re-redecorated. It is their home and they cannot be separated from it. But there are also many other things that I love about the place and I think they were brought to mind becuase they also remind me of my new house in Goulais River.

There are simple things that I love about the cottage and now my new home...the birch and poplar trees, the sandy soil, the birds, the lake of course, the granite rock of the Cambrian Shield. But it occured to me (and my husband) the other morning that it was precisely that, the mornings, that are so wonderful about being out here. We love getting up, having a coffee, listening to the birds go about their day. Things are quiet and peaceful. There are no 5 am wakeups when the neighbour starts his loud diesal truck and drives off to work. There is no construction equipment starting their day 15 minutes before they are legally supposed to. There are not even the hum of school buses shuttling kids off to school. It's just peace...and the chattering of chickadees, the rat-a-tat-tat of woodpeckers, and the occaisional shouting of our red squirrel whom we've named Uther Pendragon.

It's just like mornings at the cottage, and I didn't realize how much my mind and soul truly craved that.

Maple Syrup Goodness

I had a great experience today. Our neighbour asked if we wanted to come over to his house and see how he makes maple syrup! I instantly jumped at the opportunity. I was so excited to see the whole process (something I'd not done as a kid) and I really wanted to share it with my kids. As a homeschooler it is an awesome thing to teach your kids through lived experiences. They tend to grab onto the information and make it theirs when they are living it not just sitting down being taught it.

The fact that it was our neighbour who was showing us really got me excited. Yes, becuase it reminds me that other people actually do live out here! But more so becuase it added a personal element to the entire experience. We had actually been planning a trip to a big maple syrup farm in the area but this was even better. I live in a place where not only can I tap maple trees to make the world famous maple syrup but people actually get together and help each other out so that all the people in the area are supplied with the yummy goodness. That to me is community!

Though I have a feeling I could go on about this for a long time, I will briefly (as possible) walk through the steps. The first thing to do is collect the sap from the maple trees. It tends to run anywhere from February to April, when the weather starts to get warm. I always thought one could only tap a certian kind of maple, but my neighbour collects from any of the maple trees on his property. A hole is drilled a couple inches into the tree and a spout is inserted. The sap just drips out of the spout and has to be collected. This is the funny part. I thought that people used specific "maple syrup collecting" equipment...but no, not in the country! I saw everything from plastic jugs to metal buckets to dollar store plastic pails. Anything will do the trick. Just make sure to cover the top. I was told that if snow gets into the sap it turns yellow and is ruined!

We got to taste the sap. And actually, it just tasted like water mostly. Of course I wasn't warned about the hole in the jug used to hang it and I drank it the wrong way. Yes, maple sap all down the inside of my shirt. Nice. (pic NOT included)

Once the sap is collected it is boiled. Most people are familiar with this process. It was the first time I had ever seen it. We drove down the road to another neighbour's house. He has a small sugar shack on his property in which he has built a boiler. What an amazing smell! If there was a candle that could capture that smell! It's actually quite a big process. This boiler held about 60 gallons of sap and it takes about 24 hours to boil it down to 1.5 gallons of syrup. I had no idea it took that long.

It's then filtered. This is actually to remove any sugar that has crystallized in the syrup. My neighbour then took us to his garage where he showed us another smaller pot where he boils the syrup down even further. He told us that he tries to get it anywhere from 215-219 degrees F before its filtered again and poured into bottles. The higher the temperature, the more sugar that's boiled out of the syrup and the darker the syrup becomes. You could actually taste the difference of the syrups boiled at different temperatures! So cool! The best part is that he sent us home with a jar!

Finally the fruit of our labours...boiled maple syrup on snow. So so yummy!

I do alot of canning in the summer. I make jam and salsa, applesauce, preserve peaches and have made pickles. There is something so satisfying with taking fruits and vegetables and making them into something that you have all year. Maybe it makes me feel closer to the earth. Preserving is an old art in countries that experience cold harsh winters. Keeping that art alive keeps me in touch with women of the past. They laboured all summer and fall so that they would (hopefully) have enough food for the winter. Not only that, but women would work together to accomplish these tasks.

Too many times (especially growing up in the suburbs of Southern Ontario) we go through life alone, not taking the time to reach out to our neighbours, let alone develop a sense of community while helping each other. I began to develop that with my neighbours in Hamilton before we moved up north. We would help each other out, give one a cup of coffee (or other stronger libations) on a tough day, can together, be a listening ear. Today I saw that. I saw people working together and enjoying sharing that experience with others.

Oh excuse me, gotta run. My pancakes are ready...

"Here Bunny, Bunny Bunny..." part 1

We are trying to snare a rabbit.

I'm not sure if its the fresh country air, the trees or simply the lack of contact with human life but living out here is apparently bringing out the hunter in me. Who knew?

A couple weeks after we arrived here winter's annual blanket of snow descended upon North eastern Ontario and our little unorganized township of Goulais River. Though I am not known to my friends as the outdoor type I really do like the snow. It seems to give the cold weather and dark hours of winter some meaning. And it is quite beautiful as it lays itself over the trees and buildings. I began to notice something in the morning, especially after a really cold night. These imprints in a group of four all in a line. What could they be? I asked my husband and he confirmed my suspicions...rabbit. Specifically White Hare.

"Cool" I thought, "an animal around here that can't maim or kill me." The more I thought about it the more I was touched by how close we really were to nature. It was all around us and we were all around it (metaphorically speaking of course). Suddenly a lot of things came into my mind all at once, breaking my peaceful ponderings on God's great gift of the natural world. "I bet we can eat rabbits." Another inquiry and sure enough rabbits around here are very good to eat (great in stew I'm told) and are actually quite pricey when found at the butcher's counter at the grocery store in town.

I'm not sure if it was the thought of free meat but many other questions popped up. What could we do with the skin and fur, could we make money from this, how about mittens my hands are really cold. Of course we could! We could catch a rabbit, skin it, eat the meat, tan the hide and make all sorts of great things. There is a large First Nation's population around here, there is bound to be someone who knows what they are doing! This little suburban Chicky had no idea what she was doing or how she was going to do it but somehow I was going to snare a rabbit!

Easier said than done.

We have a friend in town who knows how to set snare lines and so he came out with his family one snowy Saturday afternoon. He and my husband tracked back in the bush and set out a couple snares with sticks and wire in places they saw tracks. The idea is that when it is really cold the rabbits run all night to keep themselves warm. They tend to run in the same patterns so all you need to do is find a well travelled spot, create a bottleneck with your snare and voila you catch one (if you are interested you can google the details of exactly how the snare kills the animal but I have to keep it PG for my mom...she's a little squeamish).

The first morning my husband and oldest daughter excitedly walked back into the bush to check the snares. We all expected them to come back with a rabbit. I waited. They came back with....nothing. Yes, apparently the rabbits had been around but none of them went through the snare. The next day the same thing, except this time the rabbits seemed to run over it, knocking down some of the sticks. D fixed them and excitedly waited for another night. The next day still nothing. Indeed the rabbits had been there but this time not only did they knock over the snare but they also pooped all over it. I'm not kidding!

Alright, so I underestimated you bunny but you haven't seen the last of me! Ok, well maybe until next winter. I'm not really sure how to track rabbit when there is no snow so we may have to wait. But believe me, they won't poop on my trap next year! Really, believe me!

O Glorious Spring, we wait for your arrival

I went outside with the kids this afternoon. It started as a job. We had finished another row of wood and I couldn't reach the top of the next row. My oldest daughter offered her help (in capris and my housecoat) as I climbed up on the chair on my tiptoes to reach for the afternoon's firebox fuel. When the job was completed I look around, for my son had joined us and I couldn't find where the kids had wandered off to. They were off somewhere in the back of the property. I decided to set aside my work and trudged through the still deep yet melting snow to see what they were doing.

A chickadee caught my attention as it fluttered from branch to branch almost in a conversational dance. He cocked his head in a way that seemed to suggest a salutation of some sort. We followed squirrel tracks around and around and around the yard. I looked up to the clear blue sky and let the sun fall on my face, enjoying the quiet sounds of nature. As I turned around and saw my house bathed in warm sunlight, icicles dripping with the remnants of a bitterly cold January, I was struck with awe.

It is a beautiful creation that God has made for us. It is wonderful redemption that God offers us. It so permeates all our lives that we see it each year in the renewal of nature, in the cycles of life. The old melting away, the new bursting forth with vibrant colour and strength.

O Glorious Spring, we wait for your arrival with expectant hearts (and cold feet).

Barbeque Anyone?

Well, it's 10:45 pm and we just came in from hooking up the propane to the house. Yes, the propane. We live miles from civilized society, there's no delivery system of natural gas here. So, there's propane and it runs our tankless hot water heater, fridge and stove. Outside of electricity, it's the most important source of energy for our house. And we run out of it about every 4 weeks! Just like the firebox for heat, we need to maintain the propane so that we can heat our water and cool our food. It's a bit of a pain and at times I remember my suburban life of not remembering.

I have to admit that we are somewhat unprepared to live in the country in Northern Ontario. We drive a minivan, not a four-wheel drive SUV, we don't have a truck or trailer (key in the transportation of things like...oh... propane tanks which can't be put in enclosed vehicles) and up until a couple weeks ago I didn't even own a pair of long underwear. We didn't think about how we would get a new propane tank here in the first place. Let's just say that the past couple months have involved calling friends upon discovery of the empty propane tank and asking them if they would kindly drive the 25 minutes to our house to get the tank, drive another 15 minutes to the exchange depot and well, you get the picture.

A solution had to be found for this problem and buying a brand new Ford Explorer Sporttrac XE in pearlized black with a bed extender and heated seats and moonroof wasn't an option. Fortunately my husband, ever the industrious man, called the propane company which furnishes the store out here in Goulais and they said for an small fee they would deliver the propane to us! Perfect, so now we can get it here.

The countdown had begun as we knew it had been about 4 weeks since last begging a friend to come and bring us propane. We were trying not to use too much for fear of running out. So, the propane was delivered today and waiting for my husband to hook it up when he got home. I bathed the kids, and cooked our lasagna and as I pulled the cooked dinner out of the oven discovered that we had finally run out. God's grace or good timing? Now all I had to do was wait for Darren to come home and magically put on the tank...or whatever it is that he does.

Darren got home tonight at 10pm and I decided that I would come out while he performed the installation...moral support. So there we are, in the dark, Darren dragging the hundred pound tank over the snowbank and around to the back of the house. The part of the house that faces 100's of acres of crown land. It is at this point in the story that I should mention the wolves. We heard a pack of wolves howling last night and they sounded mighty close to our street! So here we are, at the back of the house in the dark. Didn't have a flashlight and couldn't find the lantern so I'm standing with a mirror trying to reflect the light shining from the bathroom window into the area where Darren is working. Oh, and holding a pipe wrench to fend off the wolves...should they come.

As I'm sure you can deduce. you are reading this blog post so we did not get eaten by any wolves. And, we were successful in restoring some of our beloved amenities (that would have just been provided without thinking had we remained in suburbanville). It's kind of annoying to me that we have to do it, especially when its cold and late and dark. BUT, it did provide my husband and I with a good laugh...and hopefully you too. Isn't that what life should be about?

And I thought propane was just for barbeques!

Fire and Fashion

I heat with wood. How do you heat your home? I would venture to guess that many of you would answer this question by saying that you turn the thermostat to "heat" and that's how you heat your house. Up until 8 weeks ago, I would have the said the same thing. I mean, I would just go over to the wall, turn the little dial to "heat" and voila! I never would have taken the time to consider how the furnace actually worked or what I needed to do to make the heat continue to flow (outside of paying the bill).

I knew full well when we moved up here that we would be heating with wood and that to produce this heat we would be burning the wood in a woodstove. Now, the world of woodstoves is not completely foreign to me as I grew up going to my grandparent's cottage which had only a woodstove. But that was of course, in the summer and I never acutally asked how it worked or what was the best way to start and maintain a fire. But that didn't really mean anything to me becuase Darren was going to be working from home and he did grow up with a woodstove so he would handle it. All I would have to do is sit there, look pretty and get warm. It didn't work out that way though. No more than a week after arriving in Goulais River Darren discovered that he would have to go into town after all. (That is another surprise about the country...you can't get super-fast internet!) Within a couple days he had an office and I was alone with the kids, in the bush, in December.

My immediate response was one of panic. What was I going to do? How do I build a fire? How do I keep it going once I've got it started? What if I burn our brand new house in the bush...and all the bush...down? Once I realized this wasn't going to be the end of the world I decided to embrace the challenge. That is one of the reasons why we moved up here in the first place. We wanted more out of life, an adventure. So this would be one of my first. I would learn how to use this cast-iron fire box that sits smack in the middle of my house. I am a progressive woman, I have a degree, I can learn how to build a fire...right?

This is where it gets complicated. Apparently, building a fire is a very personal thing. Everyone who has had experience with building fires has their own ideas about how it is done. Nay, they are more like beliefs, passionately held beliefs! One says you need lots of wood, another says lots of heat, still another says -no shouts- that its all about what you use to get the fire going. My goodness I just want a warm house! I decided to read about fire (who knows what good that was actually going to do me but I was out to prove my intelligence, my independence) on wikipedia and became disillusioned. The fire tetrahedron!? Come on!

In the end I just dove in (figuratively speaking of course). I used wood, I used kindling, I used a lighter...I got fire. I've had about 6 weeks practice and I still have a way to go. This sounds absoluely ridiculous to me but Darren can still build hotter fires than me. He says it has something to do with the coals. But I'm getting there. We are not freezing and that's what counts.

So here are the things I need to do to keep my house warm. I have to go and get the wood out of the wood shed. (Here I am fortunate becuase when we bought the house we also bought all the wood in the shed which should cover us for a couple years...so no chopping yet). I try to pile as much as I can at the front door so I don't have to go out too much when its -30. Then comes the intricate yet delicate interplay of kindling, log placement and ignition (otherwise known as pure luck). Once there is some flame I close the door of the stove most of the way but not too much as to extinguish what I worked so hard to achieve. You would think that I'm home free at this point but I have to make sure to watch the fire and put another log on before it dies down too much and I have to trust luck to get it started again. Every couple weeks I have to take out the ash tray (found underneath where the fire burns...Vermont Castings has something going here) and clean them out. The dumping of the ash requires much technique as not to get it all over my clothes. If I continue to repeat this from September to March (some people say June but I am not speaking that into my life...glass half full) then I will have a warm house!

This seems like a huge hassle. And you know, sometimes I think it is. I get the fire started with great difficulty but then I get busy with my day and totally forget to keep it up and then have to start all over again. The logs are heavy and awkward for me to place in the stove and I tend to get ashes all over the place. But you know, I am proud of myself. I learned a new skill. One very important skill that has been used (and is still used by people all around the world) as one of the cornerstones of daily living. I don't just take my heat for granted anymore.

All my talk about fire has reminded me of one thing that has taken me a bit by surprise about living out in the country and that is clothing. Thinking about it now, saying this sounds even funny to me but I thought people dressed the way they do in the country (compared to city folk) becuase they were simply more casual people. Now I realize its actually for a reason. I am a stay at home mom so my wardrobe though nothing spectacular, is a little more casual. But it is filled with dress pants, jeans that are longer to go with my knee-high black leather high-heeled boots, cute little button-up blouses from RW&Co. These are definately NOT the most ideal outfits in which to get wood or take out the garbage or empty the ashes from the woodstove. Even when I'm in town, I have to walk in snow! Can you believe it?! I've lived in Southern Ontario all my life...there is no snow! And if there is then we call in the army to get rid of it. I'm going to have to go and get boots. And the boots that people wear around here are no pansy boots! My goodness, they look like you could traverse the north pole with them! The people around here call them skidoo boots. We're going to have to work with UGG Australia or something to make them look a little better but I guess thats another post. I guess the bright side of this is that I have a very good reason to get a new wardrobe! LOL!

How Far?

851, 23.7, 9, 0...What could these numbers possibly mean you ask? Well please, let me tell you. :) 851 would be kilometres from my previous home. Yes, I moved from Hamilton, Ontario 851km away to north of Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario. To be specific a little unorganized township called Goulais (pronounced Goolee) River.

What is in Goulais River, you ask? Compared to the city of Hamilton, not much. But it is on the shores of the beautiful Lake Superior. There are a couple corner store type places, a really cool covered ice rink, an LCBO (not much selection unless you like Molson and Labatt) and lots of space, yes space. Why would we go to a place like that? Well, it's quite beautiful and peaceful. If one is looking to simplify their life then this would be the perfect place in which to do it. It is also cheaper. We knocked off $100,000 from our mortgage and have more space then we did in Hamilton. We also believe God called us to move here. We're not sure of all the reasons...yet!

23.7 would also be kilometres from the nearest street light! And that street light would be on the main highway, the only highway, the TransCanada Highway. It's a lonely and dark drive into the house when you leave the highway.

9 is the number of hours it takes to drive here from Hamilton (that is if you hurry, don't run into traffic leaving the GTA and don't stop for too long when you pee). In fact, the Sault is about 9 hours from just about any major centre. It's about 8 hours to Chicago, 9 to Ottawa, 9 to Buffalo and 8 to Thunder Bay. It's just in an awkward place, where Lake Superior, Lake Huron and Lake Michigan all meet. And then, of course, you have to add the time it takes to get from town out to our place which would be about 60 minutes in the winter and 40 the rest of the year.

0, my final number. Can anyone guess what that represents? Anyone? No. Well, it stands for the number of neighbours I have. Yes I have 0 neighbours that live here year round on my street. There is one guy that comes up to his camp (for my Torontonian friends that's way less than a cottage but more than a tent) on the weekends and that's about it. I went from sharing a suburban backyard with six other neighbours (a great bunch of folks, miss you all) to having none! It's definitely something that is taking time to get used to. No more yelling out the back door to see if anyone has an egg. If fact, it's a real hassle if I run out of something because it takes about 20 minutes just to drive to the "Goulais River General Store" and I'm not guaranteed they will have what I need.

So yes, when I say that I have moved to Goulais River most people ask me where and how far? Oh and they also ask why? Why would we do such a thing? That's a really good question. Some days it just seems too clear to me. I'm up for adventure, I like change, I like challenge, I like trees and the outdoors. But then other days is gets a little confusing. Is this really what I wanted to do? Did I really hear God telling me to move up here? Am I crazy? Things have been good and interesting so far. I have learned a lot in the past few weeks and as I get breaks from schooling the kids, loading the wood stove and cleaning the house, I will try to record them here for us all to read.

Have a good night and enjoy your forced air furnaces!