For the uninitiated, we live in a small town. By “small town”, I mean that we live in a community of 10,000 people. While 10,000 seems like a large amount when you are referring to money, it seems like a pretty small number when you are referring to people living in the same vicinity. Our home is actually ten minutes behind said small town in a sub-community that consists of a mere 500 people. We love it here.
I have lived in other small towns and I think I can honestly say that this small town leaves other small towns in the dust. We have a decent-sized city (where I work) ten minutes to the south and we have a large city a mere forty-five minutes to the north. We have access to all of the amenities of the city while living in a town where everybody knows your name. Well, everyone knows my husband’s name (He grew up here, and I’m known as “Matt’s wife”).
This small town of ours has made a name for itself as the “Town of Festivals”. A few times a year we throw a big party and people come from far and wide to attend. The first weekend in June is always Actionfest. Baseball teams descend upon our town to challenge the locals and in between watching Matthew and my brother play ball, we partook of the festivities.
Saturday morning is the parade! With Princesses! And candy! And clowns! (*Shudder*) And…garbage trucks? Only in Summerland.
The kids LOVED it, despite how they look here.
Oh, hi! Graham at fourteen. Sigh.
Sunday morning is an interdenominational service in the park, which is twenty shades of rad for a number of reasons. When the service is over we always beeline it over to the Mini Donut vendor (Mmm…donuts) and usually head home after indulging. I say “usually” because we actually stayed for awhile and told the kids they could partake in one of the rides. JUST ONE. They chose the cheesy Be-Towed-Behind-The-Quad-In-Barrels ride (complete with horns!).
They handed in their tickets.
They were a wee bit excited to be on the ride.
Ah, small town entertainment.
The “train” came back, we unbuckled the kids and helped them out and Emily immediately pointed to the horses. She told me that she wanted to go on that ride. I told her that I had used all of my cash to put them on the ONE RIDE that they had chosen and that they had been instructed to choose carefully. She had chosen the train.
Matthew met up with us, saw his baby girl’s crocodile tears and asked what was going on. Upon hearing how much she wanted to ride a horse he ran off to the truck to fetch the cash he had in his wallet. Daddies and their girls, hey?
(The dudes had the option for another ride and opted for the bounce house. We do our best to play fair over here.)
I think that this is one of the coolest things about being a parent. The majority of the time, you show your kids that you love them by teaching them about making wise decisions and about the consequences of those decisions. But sometimes, you show your kids you love them by letting them ride a horse for the very first time.
Back In The Saddle
Date: Sunday January 3, 2010Posted in: Emily, Graham, Life In The Sticks, Nathan
Happy New Year! Yes, I know I am many days late with the greeting but I took a bit of a break from the Internet. Not a complete break (Though that sounds a little heavenly, doesn’t it?) but I had kind of put it on the back burner. Apart from Scrabble, that is. Matthew and I have spent a couple of afternoons playing Scrabble on Facebook while the kids beheaded each other in Wii Lego Star Wars. Nothing says family togetherness than a good sword fight. Or something.
We had a hectic two weeks that included hosting Christmas dinner, a Boxing Day dinner for the other side of the family and then Graham’s birthday party. That party saw us entertain an additional six kids under the age of seven. IT WAS A LITTLE LOUD. Also, a whole lot of fun. I love that the kids are all at an age where you can send them down to the family room to play while the adults get to sit and actually talk. It’s a whole new world. Or something.
The day of Graham’s birthday I woke up feeling “off” and a little bit nauseous. With the aid of a nap, I managed to get everything done and enjoy myself with the friends who came over to celebrate with us. As we crawled into bed that night I told Matthew that I no longer felt nauseous. I was happy to have averted what I thought could have turned into some intimate time spent with the porcelain throne.
The next morning, I woke up with a blasted head cold. I have tried to keep my whining to a minimum but I have spent my days (DAYS)(These days HAVE NOT ENDED) alternating between blowing my nose and slathering it with Vaseline in order to prevent it from chapping. I also have a lovely cough that (according to my husband) makes me sound like a man. In other words, I am a particularly lovely sight right now.
The upside to this nasty cold is (that it waited until after all of our big events were finished, and) that it forced me to slow down a bit. I had a huge list of items that I wanted to get done before I start work on Tuesday and even I have to admit that the list was a little unreasonable. I did get a huge chunk of stuff done that I have been aching to do but apart from that I just enjoyed my days. I played Battleship with Graham, I played Connect Four with Nathan, I painted with Emily. I slept in past 6 a.m. (my usual internal alarm clock) four days in a row. It was mostly because I was up blowing my nose every two hours, but still. I read a two books and played with my shiny new camera.
I used that camera to capture some sledding fun out in our backyard. We had a brown Christmas but a few days later we got some snow. And more snow. And then, even more snow. For those who are new around here, we live on an acreage out in the sticks. We also have a huge hill that is perfect for sledding on. I was too sick to participate but I bundled up and photographed my family in action.
Nathan is the “Sporto” of the family. He’s naturally athletic and loves a plethora of sports. He especially loves “snowboarding” which is what he calls sledding on our Ski-Doo sleds. We’ve had a few minor dustings of snow and he’s asked if he could go “snowboarding.” There was never enough of a base, but now there is. He was beyond happy about it.
Minor crash:
This photo was actually upside down when I took it; he landed at my feet.
Graham soon joined in on the party.
He crashed as well, but was having too much fun to be upset.
Last year, Emily REFUSED to sled. We would try to take her with us and after just one run she would be wigging out. She doesn’t like to be thrown up in the air either. For such a feisty girl she is exceptionally cautious. I’m not sure what happened this year, but she’s loving the sledding action.
See?
Matthew put her on the bigger board because she kept dragging her feet.
She wasn’t scared of the sled; she was worried that she was going to crash into me. I jumped out of the way with time to spare. She was pretty happy about her mad sledding skills.
That’s what we’ve been up to. Enjoying life, soaking up the fun that we can and popping Advil Cold & Sinus. (Just me. So far).
I had a good friend of mine tell me that 2010 is going to be rad for the both of us. I believe it to be true and I hope it is the same for each and every one of you. I mean it. Happy New Year, you guys.
My family and I have escaped any form of the flu (so far) but it appears that Matthew and I contracted a mild case of the “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR EVER-LOVING MINDS?”
It all started last week when he was looking through real estate listings online. This is nothing new; he loves to see what houses are out there and where our fits on the market. Also, he likes to snoop. Don’t tell the neighbors.
He was going through the listings and called me over to show me a particular property. It’s on four acres, with an amazing view of the valley below. The house is smaller than ours but is by no means tiny. The decor isn’t bad but would need a bit of updating. We’d be closer to town and our friends and (Here’s what he pitched me) we’d have faster Internet. (We’re on satellite Internet. We live in the sticks, yo.)
He drove by it a few times and then we drove out there as a family on the weekend. I love the view and shaving five minutes off of our drive into town wouldn’t be a bad thing. He left a message with a good friend of ours who is a Realtor and told her to contact us after the weekend. She did, and stated what we knew deep down. We would be crazy to give up what we have. And not just the nice kind of crazy where you hand out flowers to people that you meet but the kind of crazy where you mutter to yourself and people cross the street when they see you coming.
We sat and talked about it and came to the conclusion that while one day might be a good idea to move closer to town, we’re just not ready to do so. We are only a ten minute drive from the center of our small town. We’ve poured almost eight years of work into this house to make it our home. We refinished the exterior of our house (More here). We gutted our master bedroom and made an en suite that I love. We made a craft room for me that might just become my writing room. We’ve renovated our Great Room twice and apart from the never ending cleaning up after meals and snacks, it’s my favorite room in the house. We have a laundry room that may be in the basement but is pretty darn cozy, even if I do say so myself. We created a little girl’s room that my daughter loves to show her friends. We have poured unlimited time and love into this house of ours, and have borne three babies who have known no other place as home.
Are we ready to walk away from it all for the sake of a view of farms and other people’s houses, and to save five minutes of driving? No, we’re not.
I pondered all of this as I took Nathan, Emily and the dog for a walk down to the creek.
(While going down our driveway…Nathan: “Emily, it’s really steep. Let me hold your hand so you don’t fall.”)
We are a five minute walk from a beautiful creek that runs alongside the TransCanada trail.
Not only is our house itself ensconced in nature, by meandering a few minutes down the road we are treated to rushing water and a well-groomed trail.
There is an old railway line next to the trail that the kids love to explore.
There’s nature and such coming out the wazoo.
Matthew can hop onto his ATV at home and leave straight from there to go on an adventure. When we’re in the throes of winter and I’m cursing the cold, he can get on his snowmobile and again, leave right from our driveway to go off gallivanting in the snow. We have three acres that back onto government land. Our yard is huge, completely private and the kids have all of the outdoor fun they could ever dream of.
One day, we may want to make the move away from here. Today is not that day.
How Does Your Garden Grow?
Date: Tuesday June 23, 2009Posted in: Honey, Life In The Sticks, fitness&health, me
I do not have a “Green Thumb.” I grew up with a Dad who could (and can) create beautiful gardens. Flowers in every color under the sun and fruits and vegetables that were so succulent that it was a little bit ridiculous. While I am like my Dad in looks and a number of personality traits, I did not inherit his green thumb. One summer I house sat for friends of his who had two cats and a home full of plants. I managed to keep the cats alive (Even thought they kept bringing me dead birds. EW) but by the time the couple returned from their trip approximately half of their indoor plants had turned brown.
It turns out that plants need water. Who knew? (You probably do. Shut up.)
When I was a single gal in Vancouver my Dad would buy me plants…only to witness them die a slow and painful death at the hands of his daughter. He finally gave up and bought me some trailing vines. Those need very little water to live . This should be a match made in Heaven. Except that I killed each and every one. I am awesome like that. (Related: HOW WAS I ALLOWED TO HAVE CHILDREN?)
A short while later I married a man with Dutch blood and moved to an acreage with a huge plot laid out in which to host a garden. The first few years we lived here we (he) didn’t plant anything as we were getting settled, building a business and starting a family. The last few years have been a whole ‘nother story.
I was going to post a photo of the entire garden (I actually took one then subsequently deleted it) but settled on a photo of one of our rows of spinach. Just know that we have everything from strawberries, to peppers, to tomatoes, to green onions, to squash to….a whole bunch of other stuff. I am too lazy to walk out and read the garden labels and also think that such minute detail is overrated.
This past weekend was our (Matthew’s) first harvest. We had our first haul of rhubarb and strawberries.
On Sunday afternoon, Matthew decided to make a Strawberry Rhubarb crumble. Yes, he made dessert ON FATHER’S DAY. Truth be told, I offered to make it. He was just so proud of the fruits (Ha!) of his labor that he wanted to make it all by himself. Fine. And fine, it was.
Words cannot express how amazing it was (or how I could not stop myself from taking an extra bite (or twenty)). I asked him where he found the recipe and his response was, “I think it might be from a blog.”
I walked over to his laptop and then laughed out loud. It was Smitten Kitchen’s Strawberry-Rhubarb crumble. OF COURSE it was good. It’s SMITTEN KITCHEN for crying out loud. You all need to make this recipe. STAT.
Despite my history of being the Harbinger of Death to any and all plant life, I have always wanted an herb garden. This may be news to any new readers, but you old school folks know that I love to cook and even have a recipe site. It’s been far too long since I posted anything over there, but there is the whole (LACK OF) TIME ISSUE. I also have been in a bit of a cooking rut that I’ve been slowly breaking out of.
Back to the herb garden. We went to the local plant nursery, I picked out the herbs I use the most (Basil, Oregano, Thyme and Rosemary) and planted them in containers. We have a bay window by our kitchen table that faces South, which is perfect for getting all of the sunshine the herbs need. A month later and they are thriving. I do believe that this is a miracle of some sort.
Matthew asked me what happens next to which I replied, “I have no idea.” I consulted Google but the instructions I found are way too vague for a novice like me. I need someone to say, “After XXX days, do THIS. And maybe THAT. Then use them to cook with.”
Help?
And finally (the crowd perks up just like a congregation does when the Pastor starts a sentence with, “In conclusion…”) I have been branching out in my recipes lately. We had gotten into a terrible rut of eating the same thing the same nights of the week and have been bored. I’ve been trying one to two new recipes per week. On Friday I made something that I absolutely love but had never attempted to make before: California rolls!
Not only did they look like California Rolls, they tasted like California rolls. Yet another miracle. I’m always open for new recipes (and tips for what to do with my herbs), so if you are so obliged you can hook me up.
So, that’s some of what we’ve been up to. A little bit of being granola mixed with a little bit of being Star Trek (A new frontier and all of that). Next thing you know we’ll get some cows and I’ll be milking them at 5 am. If it were up to my husband that would totally happen but, um, NO.
When Matthew and his Dudes went on their snowmobiling trip he brought along our little Canon Powershot to capture their adventure.
The view from the top:
Coastal mountains in the background (They seem so close!)(But it’s a three-hour drive!) and a couple of sleds in the foreground.
Same shot, but zoomed out.
A shot of Matthew’s sled (I LOVE this).
One of the hills that they conquered.
The sun. Setting. (Uh. No kidding.)
These photos took my breath away; looking out across mountain ranges can sure put your wee life into perspective.
For those who aren’t from around here, the topography in these photos is similar to what it is like at our house. In fact, a few weeks ago the dudes went on an afternoon riding trip that started in our driveway and took them to this same ski hill where they stayed last weekend. When I say that I live in the sticks I am so not kidding. I’m surprised we have electricity out here, never mind the Internet.
You would think that living on an acreage out in the country would mean that I had a vast collection of country music. That would be a big, fat, negative.
It’s not like I haven’t been exposed to it. My Mom is a huge fan and subjected me to forms of torture that went by the seemingly innocuous description of “country music.” Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers are not for the faint of heart. Throw in some Crystal Gayle and you could almost call it child abuse.
As I grew up, country music became more mainstream and it started being played on the “Top 40″ radio stations I always listen to. I ended up rooming with the ever-lovely Tanya at Briercrest and she was a die-hard fan. I would wail and moan about her choices in music and she had a great retort:
THOU DOTH PROTEST TOO MUCH.
Pfffft. I was just speaking the truth.
It is not as though I dislike music. AU CONTRAIRE. I love much of the Top 40 crap tunes, as well as bands ranging from The Dave Matthews Band, to U2, to John Mayer, to Jars of Clay. I listen to pretty much anything but country. And of course, Yanni (Though Matthew likes him; FEEL FREE TO MOCK. Goodness knows I sure do.)
Cue Tuesday night. The family and I were watching American Idol (Which I normally don’t watch past the initial tryout rounds (Because I am all about the mocking) but the kids love it. And it keeps them quiet, so there’s that. I could do a whole separate post on my hatred for American Idol but this about sums it up perfectly.) If you are smarter than I and are not numbing your brain with the train wreck that is AI, Tuesday’s theme was “country”.
Once the kids were in bed, I was editing Matthew’s snowmobiling photos. Through some force unknown to me I all of a sudden found myself in the iTunes store. In the “country” section. ON PURPOSE. I only downloaded a few “country” songs. Carrie Underwood (But she’s also considered mainstream!), The Dixie Chicks (Not so much, but they’re played on my local Top 40 station! I’m not entirely on the Dark Side!), Johnny Cash (Uh, well, I grew up listening to him…and loved Walk The Line, so it doesn’t really count. Right?)
(Speaking of artists I grew up listening to, my Mom was also a huge Neil Diamond fan. I may or may not have downloaded his Greatest Hits album on Tuesday as well. Sweeeet Caroline. Bah-bah-baaaaaaah.)
(HOLY CRAP. I AM TURNING INTO MY MOTHER.)
(No offense Mom. I love you. Even though YOU DID THIS TO ME.)
Here is what I need you folks to do for me; TALK ME OUT OF THIS INSANITY. Tell me some non-country music I need to be listening to on my commute.
Or, um, give me some country music suggestions for downloading. Not that I will download them or anything.
*Ahem*
Or something like that.
The long-timers around here know that I live in the sticks. We are a whopping ten minutes from town. Locals think that the ten minute drive is so far. Try living in a big city for awhile and get back to me on that thought. Amateurs.
I should make a t-shirt that says “It only takes ten minutes“. Wait a second. That phrase could have mass appeal. Think about it.
We bought this place nearly eight years ago (Really? I am getting old) and got a big piece of property for a small sum of money. We have three (2.89, if you want to get technical) acres that backs onto Crown (Government) land. Cue the Dixie Chicks: Wiiiiiide Open Spaces… (Not that I am a(n admitted) country music fan).
It is no secret that I hate winter. Hate it, hate it, hate it. People tell me that if I were to move to a warmer climate, I would miss the seasons. I BEG TO DIFFER. And if I did? Miss the winter? I could come back and freeze my tush off for a week or so. Not that I would pay money for that to happen.
The fact of the matter is that I love where I am. I love our home, I love our community, I love my country. Moving away would probably kill me slowly. While there are a few months of the year where the weather tries to get the best of me, the rest of the year is pretty fantastic.
What to do about those months I hate…
Matthew and I thought we should try to make the best of it. He and my brother have been working on building an outdoor ice rink. This past week, it was ready to skate on.
I grew up in a small Northern town and skated throughout my childhood. I was not a Figure Skater, but I figure skated.
It has been a good ten years since I have skated. Yes, I accompanied Graham’s Kindergarten class last year, but I spent the entire time hunched over and supporting my boy under his arms so that he would not fall.
Out on our wee rink everything came back to me within minutes. I skated forwards and backwards, and even threw in a triple sow cow. That is a complete lie, but that term always makes me giggle. Hi. I’m twelve.
The kids got skates for Christmas (Thanks, Nana!) but still need to learn how to use them. Instead of braving the ice, they tackled the hill behind our house.
The little dudes had a great time.
This dude did as well.
He starts way up the hill and goes at speeds that make my toes tingle.
Miss Emily and I did a run and were hit in the face with waves of snow. Upon coming to a stop she stated exactly what I was thinking.
“I’m all done now.”
I asked if she could take her thumb out for me.
We have been having a lot of fun. So much so, in fact, that I might actually be enjoying winter. Ish.
Please remind me of this fact when February hits and I am all “DIE, WINTER! DIE!!!”
We will probably be doing more of the same this weekend, what with the never ending snowfall. (Seriously. MAKE IT STOP.)
How about you? What have you got going on this fine weekend?
* A Year ago today: As Seen On Etsy
Giving The Entire Family A Time Out
Date: Thursday November 6, 2008Posted in: Emily, Faith, Family, Graham, Honey, Life In The Sticks, Nathan, me
When I am out and about with all three of my kids I usually get unsolicited observations.
Wow. You have your hands full.
You must be busy!
Nothing like stating the obvious to grate on my nerves. A glimpse into my life, from our trip to Seattle:
Life with three kids is busy. Life with any number of kids is busy. I do not claim to have the Queen of Busy as my title. I just try to get through the chaos without imploding. Or exploding.
My weeks are filled with driving Graham to and from school five days a week, driving Nathan to and from preschool two times a week, groceries, appointments, errands, Mom’s group…
I also have work to do. So does Matthew.
We know full well what a superb setup that we have over here. When he has work to do, I put on my cape and pretend to be Supermom (Pretend being the operative word).
If I have work to do, he is Daddy Daycare.
Emily likes to make “pancakes” out of sand and serve them up. With “butter” and “syrup”, of course.
Those of us who are at home each day sit down to eat lunch and dinner together. Apart from meal times, one of us is working and the other one is parenting (Which is also working. Just not for pay.)
Saturdays are still a busy day for me with my accounting gig, but at least Matthew doesn’t have to field phone calls. He will often putter in the yard while the kids play around him. Sometimes he will either load them on the ATV (For a short trip to the creek), or into the 4Runner (For a longer trip exploring other areas out here in the sticks).
I work as fast as I possibly can in order that we can at least have some time in the late afternoon/early evening to hang out as a complete family unit. Now that it is getting colder/darker, this usually involves colouring at the table/watching a movie together/ having tickle-fests on our bed.
Sunday afternoons is when the word “Busy” is a curse word. Everyone knows that cursing on Sundays is frowned upon.
After Emily’s nap we try to do something outside. TOGETHER. My kids love to be outside, as do Matthew and I. (OK. I only like it when it’s not FREEZING, but still.)
This past Sunday Matthew and the kids took me to a place they had found on a previous Saturday while I was working. A mere ten minutes away from here are a bunch of concrete foundations in the middle of a tree-lined field. The history books tell us that there used to be a settlement (Many moons ago), that included a post office, a school, and some other buildings.
Someone lived here. Neat.
We wandered down an old dirt road.
Sigh.
The road went over the “Once in Awhile” creek.
It is called this because it only runs…wait for it…once in awhile.
There was this big pile of stones.
I really hope it wasn’t a grave site.
We found a ginormous ant hill.
I kept my distance.
We wandered through the trees for awhile.
Matthew thought that this one looked like half of a heart.
I went looking for some colour to photograph, and found some specimens of nature clinging to life.
As you know, I like red.
Poor solitary berry.
Water droplets are fun.
I thought I’d look for a new colour.
Red and green! Christmas colours! Only forty-nine days…
While I looked for colour, the kids played with sticks.
That was his “avoid the camera” technique.
Stinker.
Emily was a little excited abut her stick.
I’ve been sleeping with one eye open ever since I took that shot.
I need these breaks from the hamster-wheel of life that is Monday through Saturday. Sundays are a day for me to unplug, unwind, and recharge. Our family needs the down time in order to prepare for the week ahead, and we all need that time for the five of us to connect and enjoy each others’ company.
Because we do. Enjoy each others’ company, that is. This is a good thing as we will be together for the rest of our lives.
When we are in the trenches of our chaotic life during the week, Sunday puts it all into perspective. I may be up to my limit in what I can handle but I know I can push through because Sunday is coming.
What do you like to do to give yourself (and or your family) a “time out”?
*OK. This is getting weird. I wrote this post and then dug through my archives to find the post from a year ago today: Life In The Sticks: Episode Three. You would think that I was doing this on purpose, but I am not. Weird.
