Clearing a Path for 2016





Well well. We have an extra day, one to add to the other 365! Here we come leap year 2016.
The leap years have to pop up every four years to keep our seasonal names attuned with astronomical events. Otherwise, one day we’d end up with the winter solstice occurring in what we call July.
With any New Year comes the usual practice of listing notables from the previous 12 months. But since this is a leap year, I decided to flash forward instead of flash back.
Keeping in mind that nothing in 2016 is certain (except 13 new and 12 full moon phases) here’s my list of 16 things to look forward to.
1.   The joyful feeling you get when you lend a helping hand. Humanity shines when we grab the opportunity to pay it forward in line at the grocery store, smile back at a baby or open the door for a laden down person.






2.   The chance to give yourself a pat on the back for learning new “stuff.”  Sometimes wandering the streets of today’s digital village can be overwhelming. This week I found an efficient way to back up my computer and organize desktop files. Aaaah!
3.   Sunny spots, places where you can have a quiet sit and feel the kind warmth of Old Sol. One of my favourites offers a sheltered view of the lake, even when charging winds whip foamy tops off of the waves.


4.   Adventure stories. This is a cool thing. I still remember Katelyn and her horse, Whiskey, meandering along the shoulders of the road. Who knows what Highway 17 North or the waters of Lake Superior will deliver. By the way, Katelyn and Whiskey made it to Manitoba, where Whiskey is spending this winter. Katelyn took the bus back to B.C. where she is working until she starts her ride again in the spring.


5.   Puzzles to solve. I found a few brain teasing, although sometimes mind numbing, challenges in a great library book. The Codebook by Simon Singh shows an undeciphered, 1820s code that is supposed to lead to buried treasure. The book also lists the Morse code, which I hope to learn - just for fun.
6.   Watching plants surface. Last fall I transplanted the rhubarb bed (for the umpteenth time). This spring I’ll be anxious to see if the reddish tips find their way up through the ground.
7.   The emergence of the Pink Lady’s Slippers (aka Cypripedium acaule). The moccasin - shaped flowers appear in the same spot year after year. No matter how freezy the winter or how warm the spring, these bulbous beauties just keep coming back.





8.   The different ways to move over snowy ground. So far this year, close to the shore, there has been little need of snowshoes and scant opportunity to ski. No frozen pond skating – sigh, but a recent bootwalk over a few cms of the white stuff was a treat. The forest floor, not yet frozen solid, felt sqooshy and soft, almost like Caribbean sands. (No... I’m not going to cheat and include a trip south in the list. )


9.   Crisp perspective of the cold. Snow outlines every tiny twig. Stars and planets are diamonds scattered across black velvet. Frost flowers are a temptation to pick. And clear, mid-day magnetic skies are a deep hypnotic blue.



10.     Mosquitoes and blackflies! That’s right! They are food and strength for the beloved spring peepers, the melodic warblers and...the elusive trout. Besides, we’ve learned to survive pesky bugs with screens, bugnets, deet, mosi-q and by seeking the windy places.
11.     Loons. Each fall, once their spotted summer feathers turn to the soft grey and white winter plumage, these plaintive voiced water birds take off for the south. Where do they go? Will I see them again when I swim out front?


12.     Photos from friends and relatives. There will be beach gatherings, picnics and more joy to share.




13.     Books. I like the paper kind and am lucky to be looking at two Christmas gifts - Canoe Country by Roy MacGregor and The Heart Goes Last by Margaret Atwood. A stormy winter day, the woodstove. Need I say more?


14.     Music. Yes, yes, always. There are new tunes to enjoy i.e.: Adele’s latest, 25. The old ones still give off their charm too. I love to watch the lake breath in and out while listening to my scratchy, vinyl version of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.
15.     A trip, maybe, to Pukaskwa National Park. Last summer we discovered a tent that can accommodate cots. Yay - glamping!
16.     And, finally, giggles and laughter from the grandkids. Or any kids in fact. (Now that says it all!)


So here we go gang. Let’s all jump into life and find a Very Happy, Very New Leap Year.





Christmas lightens A New Year once again



ELF ON A TREE


Holiday seasons can tug at the heart. And is there much more of a memory trigger than a box of Christmas decorations? This year, after we hauled ours down from the attic, I came across a card that students made for me the year I retired from teaching. That flashback to Christmas concerts and all the excitement of the December classroom, made me dig up one of my old stories. I wrote it in December of 1993 during the first of the seven years that I taught at C.O.Somes.
My years at Somes were fantastic. The former three-room public elementary school at Batchawana Bay had a partial view of Lake Superior, sported a terrific rink and was a place of learning for some of the most awesome students ever. They often inspired me to write and hence this “true” story from 1993. It’s my version of Elf on a Shelf.
The week before Christmas this year was an especially magical one. We hadn’t yet encountered any of the usual Northern Ontario bouts of snow and ice. The playground was a wide open space where grasses shone golden from light reflecting off the lake. And at recess, the children, so happy to be wearing shoes instead of boots couldn’t stop running. They would gleefully toss off their coats and race over the hard frozen ground to the edge of the bush. That’s where the trees rose up and covered a small hill behind the school.
After one particularly sunny afternoon recess the children all came tumbling inside, talking about the leprechaun that they had seen hidden amongst the trees. Each day the leprechaun hype rolled into the classroom along with all the other pre-Christmas Santa talk. The children could hardly contain themselves. By the time the bell rang on the last Friday morning before the holiday, I could see that their excitement was about to overflow. But... I got lucky. It was a wondrous, snow-free, sunny morning and I knew I could settle their bouncy natures by going for a quick walk around the playground. Our goal was to “look for the leprechaun” before we started classes for the day.
The children followed, and then led me across the field. When we came to the edge of the trees, one of them said, “There Miss - over there!” So off we went amongst the trees to search for the elusive elf. With great delight they exclaimed about every hole beside a root being a leprechaun’s home and every collection of sticks here and there being his woodpile. Some of the children started tripping, falling, laughing and saying “The leprechaun is pushing me down!”
We wandered through the bush for a few more minutes and then I gathered up my students for the return walk to the school. As we lined our way back across the field, one of the children pointed at the trees and said, “I see him! I see him! I see his golden eyes shining!”
The others stopped and tried to spot the golden eyes. Some even agreed that they saw the glimmer too. After a few moments of questioning, we continued the trek to the classroom, satisfied with the success of the outing.




I wondered to myself how the reality of this leprechaun would compare to that of the red-suited elder who would later Santa his way into the school. Then one of the students asked me in an anxious voice, “But what if it’s a bad leprechaun?”
Oh, oh I thought. Think fast Ruth.
“Well,” I said, taking a breath. “He can’t be a bad one because this is a beautiful place and you are happy people and only good leprechauns can stand being around beauty and happiness.”
Thanks kind elf and Merry Christmas kids.


And a Very Very Happy Beautiful New Year too!