Saturday, May 16, 2009

Hot Rocks



My first entry into the blog is about mothering, even though Mother's Day has come and gone for this year. I know that this may appeal more to the female readers of our blog, but Jim really understood what I felt about this topic, so I'm hoping that all can relate.
I am reading a book that I bought some time ago, but never read. Now that I am retired (?) I have finally gotten around to it. It is called Simple Abundance, A Daybook of Comfort and Joy by Sarah Ban Breathnatch. I will be ready to pass this book along on February of next year as there is a reading a day to complete. It is fairly spiritual in nature. although not religious at all. Some of it I read and think, "Well, I'll never do that or that's kind of silly." But then other readings are bang on. The reading for May 13th, Honouring the Great Mother, was one of those and it moved me to tears. It is a section about Homecrafting, and Getting Your House in Order. Rather appropriate for us at the moment, don't you think? Anyway, I would like to quote two paragraphs to start.
"Many women I know share a seldom-expressed yearning to be comforted. To be mothered. This voracious need is palpable-and often unrequited. Instead, we are the ones who usually provide comfort, caught between the pressing needs of our children, our elderly parents, our partners, our friends, even our colleagues.
Though we are grown, we never outgrow the need for someone special to hold us close, stroke our hair, tuck us into bed, and reassure us that tomorrow all will be well. Perhaps we need to reacquaint ourselves with the maternal and deeply comforting dimension of Divinity in order to learn how to mother ourselves. The best way to start is to create-as an act of worship-a comfortable home that protects, nurtures, and sustains all who seek refuge within its walls."
Since Mom died and actually well before, I have struggled with allowing myself to be mothered by me or any one else. I am very much ready for that to happen now and have realized that building the new house is my permission to do so.
As we struggle through this patch of extremely cold weather and snow, my thoughts turn to Mom (and Dad too, as he always played a role in the excercise) and the hot rocks. The patience and caring they showed through the careful heating of those stones on the old wood heater, the wrapping of the stones in layers of old sheets (even though sometimes they were so hot, they singed the sheets that were on the bed) and then the delivery of those toasty warm stones to the bottom of our beds before we even got there on those chilly nights at camp was a gift beyond love. It was a lesson on creating the perfect environment for us.
I can flick on my electric blanket in the little house now (and that works unless we have a power outage), but as I plan the new Headacher, I am consciously throwing in little percs for me and those who "find refuge within its walls". I am having heated flooring in the main floor bath, and I hope a heated towel bar. May not be as good as "hair stroking" that we all remember, but something I can do for me. We are having Central Vac. And that allows me more time to do more for others.
I am so enjoying stories of gardens, canning, old clothes and bacon. I could go in any of those directions and probably will eventually. For now, I am going to enjoy bacon and eggs tomorrow morning Andrea, one of the camp specials. And I'll probably do a Granz and make a 1/2 sandwich with the piece of bacon left. Not quite an Amma sandwich, but close. How wonderful it is that everyone has memories of special people in their lives who for a space in time, makes us feel mothered.

Hmmmmm, Bacon


As a kid, staying with Amma was like being wrapped in a warm hug. No one else showered such constant affection and attention on us. In her eyes we could do no wrong and what kid does not love that! Amma was even able to tame the scariness of Grandpa Alliston.

Their house was so different from our house and the Head households. It smelled different, it looked different (is it my imagination or was there plastic on some of the furniture?) and it was filled with what seemed to be exotic and unusual objects.

One of the things that Amma did well was feed us everything that we were not allowed to eat at home. The details are a bit fuzzy but one thing I remember clearly are the breakfasts. After being allowed to sleep as long as we wanted, Amma would let us have whatever we wanted for breakfast which was a strong contrast from the healthy eating that was routine at home.

I believe that Janeen was taken with the sugary cereals that would never be found in our cupboards. As for me, I was hooked on bacon sandwiches. Three pieces of buttered toast layered with a few pieces of bacon inbetween. No egg, no lettuce, no tomato – just bacon (!?!?!?). How I came up with this for breakfast I will never know but I thought they were delicious and I was allowed to have them every day!

I am sure that a daily bacon sandwich would not pass muster today as far as child nutrition goes. I am also sure that my mom cringed when she saw what we were eating but held her tongue and let Amma spoil us. I don’t know why these sandwiches were so good. I think that it is mostly because there is something special about being spoiled as a kid and being showered with unconditional love. All I know is that although I have never had a plain bacon sandwich since and will probably never have one again, my stomach is growling at the memory.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Grampa would love this

Eliza just sent me this picture and tells me that the Viyella shirt that she has on belonged to Grampa. He gave her two shirts about fifteen years ago. She has worn the red one to tatters and has this blue one remaining to remind her of her grandfather's tender hugs.

Funny, the night that Dad died, I slept with Mom at Pinecrest. I took one of his shirts out of the closet to wear. Somehow it eased the pain and was a way for me to stay cuddled up to him for a few more hours.

It is so interesting to me that of all the men that Dad was and all the roles he played, business man, volunteer, chorister, it is the images of him as outdoors man, fisherman, gardener that remain most poignantly for me. I suppose this is because he spent his long retirement and aging years in these pursuits, but it seems to me that these are also his strongest legacies for me and my daughter, perhaps all of us. He seemed to be happiest and at peace when he was out in the clean fresh air and doing the hard labour of growing and catching food for the family table.

Today I am remembering his pride at coming through the kitchen door at camp, with some produce, dirt encrusted carrots perhaps and Mom's peeved sighs, knowing that they would need to be cleaned and cooked for dinner, even if they were iddy biddy baby ones and we would only have a taste each!

A year or so before Dad died, I think the last summer he and Mom spent any time at camp, I knelt beside him, he on is little gardening stool and we weeded and talked. It was slow going, both the weeding and the talking, but moments that I will always treasure.

Would love to hear your stories about the garden too.

Elaine
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