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| Dec 28 2014...No Lake Ice ...yet |
Maybe it’s the dark. Or
it could be the cold. This time of year has a way of making us seek comfort.
And of course, like people, comfort comes in all kinds of shapes.
A strong cup of tea or
a slice of dark chocolate helps. As does a snowshoe through quiet woods or
listening to a favourite version of a favourite song. Christmas music does drift
out from the speakers at a perfect time. For we are in full swing towards the
darkening days and are forced to acknowledge the shifts that nature gives us.
Now that the cold is
here and the snow covers the ground, light takes on a different role. This
month’s full moon, along with snow sparkle, has added a bit of magic to the
nights. I like the first part of the evening, when there is a bite to the air,
the skies are clear and the moon has not yet risen. The stars are twinkling
dots, peeking out from the black velvet sky. Later in the night, when the moon
casts tree shadows over snow laden bedrock, the outline of each twig and branch
creates the illusion that another tree might exist somewhere else.
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| winter solstice sunset 2014 |
Not only is the moon
playing tricks. The low afternoon sun on the lake conjures a golden road on the
water. Sunglasses are mandatory for on a trip to the beach on a sunny day, even
if the hard plastic wants to freeze your face. The beach takes a much different
shape this time of year too. The fall gargantuan waves, heightened by high lake
levels, pack more power than their summer cousins. Sand and pebbles become playthings.
Rolling and crashing waves are the hands of a sculptor. All the while, the lake
sloshes around back and forth, from shore to shore, until its story calms down.
Like the lake, like the
natural world, people have stories too. And perhaps that is what makes this
season so famous. At my book launch, I heard many folks speak of their family
history and their favourite stories. I spoke with Ollie Kalliojarvi and after
he told me of how the bucksaw could be carried in a pack, he suggested I speak
about log cabin building with his nephew Ron Holmberg.
I contacted Ron
Holmberg at his home in St Catherine’s Ontario. The first comment he made in
the phone conversation was that he had just been looking at the snow out his
window. He said that snow always makes him think of moving back up north.
North, in this case, is the Sudbury /Sault area. Holmberg was born in the Sault
and raised in Sudbury. He comes back for family reunions though. That’s where
family history finds a fresh life.
In the early 1900s, at
age 12, his orphaned dad, Robert (Bob) Holmberg travelled from Finland to
Cleveland, Ohio to live with a brother. There, Bob spent a few years learning
carpentry at a trade school. With skills intact and looking for work, Bob found
his way to Sault Ste Marie. He soon met and married Aino Alexandra Siltanen and
began a family. Then in the 1920s, Russ Devlin, who had just purchased “Beaver
Rock”, a magnificent stretch of sandy shoreline 140 km north of Sault Ste Marie
along Lake Superior, contracted Bob for a special job. Devlin needed Bob’s
carpentry and log building skills for his new home site.
So Bob and Aino moved
to Beaver Rock with three of their children. Aino was cook for the construction
crew and Bob put his building skills to work.
Ron did not know about
his dad’s construction work at Beaver Rock until about 10 years ago when he
visited his uncle Milton the day after a summer family reunion. Milton drove
Ron up to Beaver Rock to see the old cabins there. Bob could not believe what
he saw and how he felt when he peeked in the window of an old log cabin. He saw
a fireplace that sent him spinning into the past. With obvious emotion he
explained his thoughts.
“I was spooked out!” he said. “That fireplace was
the spitting image of the one my dad built for us at our camp near Sudbury.”
Ron had to investigate
further. He went inside the cabin. The spookiness continued.
He went on to say, “When
I stood there, I had the funny feeling that maybe my father was standing there right
beside me.”
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| Dream Steam |
Some places and some
stories do that to you. They raise memories that you might never expect. There
is no doubt that story telling, in all its forms, is crucial to our nature. The
narratives help us to grow. And what
better time of year than now to indulge?
So Happy Holidays everyone
and may all your stories be happy ones too.
And if not, may they help you turn towards the comfort, warmth and light
that is within us all.
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| ahhhh.... time for a rest |