Well, the conference is over and done and I'm still reeling.
I learned so much before lunch on Monday!
My presentation was well-received; half a dozen people came to me to tell me how glad they were to have heard me. Gratifying. Means my message isn't a load of crap (self-doubt creeping in...) Next day, had others telling me they wished they'd sat in on my presentation. Ah! Positive reviews, then.
Now I have to sift through the whirl of thoughts in my head and settle them down into coherent ideas for the future. Woke up in the middle of the night last night thinking, "AST!" As in Atlantic School of Theology. Not to attend but to speak at. Realized my talk, my ideas, my stories are cross-disciplinary.
But I know better than to leap forward without focus, without a stopping place. I know to sit still and be open and wait for revelation.
I know to get a good night's sleep tonight!!

Taken, and tweeted, by Michelle at the Alz. Society.

Closing Remarks

  

After -- we look relaxed now!

I'm back! Briefly.
You can blame Facebook and Twitter for giving me new venues for writing --- but I've also been neglecting my work-related blog as well. My brain is so consumed by my presentation for the Alzheimer Society conference IN TWO WEEKS! that other creative writing is suppressed.
Too, a lot of the writing I might normally put on a blog gets jotted down in my notebook as column ideas. Two columns a month based on personal experience means I have to keep the ideas flowing. I'm hoping once November arrives, I'll be able to open up and write some more.
Who am I kidding? Come November, I'm going through the manuscript again -- more editing, more tweaking -- and starting the pitch to agents again. Depending on how that goes, I'll pitch in November or start fresh in the new year. So many decisions to make.
And I keep thinking about the novel I started...but I realized my strongest writing is my non-fiction so I'm sticking with my long-time plan: to write fiction when I can devote all my time to learning and executing the craft. To cram it in while I'm working on other projects just doesn't suit me. I am not a writer who can work on a myriad of projects at once.
I think fondly of my first years here when I could post blogs entries every day. Where did all that purely creative expression go?

I am meeting with a successful author, a naturalist writer, who I greatly admire -- and who thinks I'm a good writer who should publish book! Thinks my work deserves a bigger audience than that of the newspaper's readership. So who knows what will come out of that meeting? That's a few days after the conference.

Beautiful autumn day here along the River Philip. Sunny, warm and very colourful.
I'm working on the first draft of my presentation so am now going to take a break -- had to have a cry to get the emotions out; I'm determined not to get emotional while giving this presentation so I imagine there will be many micro-crying sessions in the next couple of weeks! The dogs and I will go for a mind-clearing, heart-strengthening walk to the woods and back.
Need to do my neck stretches, too. All this writing is great but it's breaking my body down!

My box-eating cat:

He rips off a piece then spits it on the floor.

He's worse than a beaver.

Hey, who made the mess on the floor?

I haven't caught him at it again but I've cleaned up two more messes and the gnawed scoop in the box is halfway down the side.
He also shreds paper.
Wha??

It's been a busy week! The eggs we put in the incubator a couple of weeks began to hatch Tuesday night, four days before their due date, which is today.
So far, we've hatched out eight chicks successfully, are looking at five eggs not doing anything, lost 2 chicks to bleeding, have one - Twoonie, the second "born" -- that may not survive because of wonky legs (if it can't feed itself, it won't survive).
Here are some shots of Dwayne, our resident chicken obstetrician, assisting with a birth:

Our birthing room gets kind of messy:

Our nursery is filling up! Sometime today, these little chicks will be let loose in the big pen.

We didn't have much luck hatching chicks out of green-shelled eggs (in order to fulfill my need to have hens that lay green eggs); the disabled chick and a chick that died last night came out of green shells. But these guys are cute and noisy and active and it's going to be fun to watch them get bigger, just like the older chicks in the pen next door:

We started with five -- one died, and three of these are roosters!!
Aren't chickens fun?

Friends and enemies of our sunflowers:

Found this photo of Dad and thanks to a lovely slow first day at work, was able to scan it and Photoshop it.
This is going into my opening slide show for my Alz. conference presentation. Love it.
Now I really want to learn to drive our same-era tractor!

I just realized I hadn't posted a photo of our dinner with the Beers, and niece Emily, from Cobourg. The day they were going to be passing through our part of NS coincided with our anniversary so it was lovely to have a dinner party with people enthusiastic about eating lobster. 

Considering we've known Susan and her parents -- her mother is Colleen Ross, dear to my heart -- it's like we were celebrating with family. 

Just returned from an overnight stay in Victoria by the Sea, PEI, where I was interviewing people for an article for Saltscapes. Went very well, met lovely people who gave great quote, and a nice balance -- not all "This is a perfect, quaint village." Real village life stuff for a perfect, quaint village!
I can see why people love travel writing; it was fun to meet people and talk to them. This is good for me; making me more confident since it gives me a reason to strike up conversations with strangers.
I'll be posting photos about my little trip tomorrow on the work blog so check that out -- check out what I had for lunch !!

My friend and colleague Jane begins her holidays tomorrow so for the next two weeks, I work every day at the paper. Ugh. And I'm having trouble with my back from too much sitting so this is not going to be good. I have to make sure I flip over on the inversion table every day to offset the stress on my left leg and lower back from sitting all day in my awful seat (don't have the nerve to ask my boss for a new one although I'm entitled to one since I did have an OT assessment on my work space).
I don't anticipate work being slow since I will do all my work writing there instead of at home. Lots of people to talk to, always.

Chicks are growing. Five new hens haven't realized they can go outside here. Gardens are full of flowers. My echinacea are blooming! August is my favourite month -- even though I work non-stop for the first two weeks!

When I stepped out the door this morning under heavy, grey skies to take the dog for a walk, I heard a thick rustle of wings and looked up to see an osprey taking flight, low to the ground. I knew then it had been sitting on the ground or on one of the round bales of hay near the strawberry patch. This is how I knew it was one of this year's hatchlings.
Today marks first flight!
The main challenge for a young osprey on its first flight is mastering the land in a tree. This one tried several times to land on a tree top only to have it wobble, only to have to let go and fly on.
By the time I watched and called to my husband and took photos, it was obvious rain was coming so both dogs got a walk up the lane.
Two young ospreys were sitting on dead tree limbs above the lane. First flight, check. Landing in a tree, check.
Next lesson: catching fish.

Empty nest at 6:30 a.m. (turns out, youngest hiding inside).

Not yet mastered the skill of landing on poles or trees.

Practicing. Lift! Lift!

 

When a parent brought a fish to the nest, it was time to land and refuel.

When one parent brought a fish in for breakfast, Dwayne saw the third and youngest hatchling pop its head up from the nest. That one is always later than its older siblings; once the other two are flying with confidence and fishing for themselves, all attention turns to getting the baby flying and fishing.  This was quite a challenge last year; it waits to be seen if this year's youngest is braver and bolder.

Every year on the anniversary of our first date (which is two days before our wedding anniversary), we go out for supper at the same restaurant where we went and Dwayne got a fortune in his cookie that read, "Romance is about to blossom."
No one ever thinks to take a photo on their first date! Of course I wish I had...
But seven years later:

1. None of our twelve eggs hatched out of the incubator or under the hens. Very disappointing.
2. One of our five day-old chicks (who are now three weeks old) is dying. He (I think) turned out to be quite physically deformed -- crooked beak, no neck; he wasn't growing but he was ending up looking like a little hunchback chick -- and we weren't sure what was going to happen. But when I went out half an hour ago to check on everyone's water, the four healthy chicks were huddled in one corner and he was by himself on the opposite side. Chicken for "impending death".
3. I have a writing assignment for Saltscapes magazine which means travel to PEI. Turns out, my main subject is leaving for a trip to England then heading back to school in Vancouver so I have to go this Sunday for our interview which is just a little sooner than I had planned. Just got the assignment on Tuesday so thank goodness the magazine gave me the go ahead when it did. Going to be a busy weekend: my friend Jane and I are off to a writers'/readers' festival on Saturday.
4. Dwayne and I were going to go boating tonight so I could complete the second of two writing assignments for the Harry Thurston workshop I'm taking Tuesday nights but it's too windy. The subject is "place" and I want to write about the river. We've been on the river enough -- I was inspired by our boat trip on Monday night -- so I should be able to write it at home instead of in the boat.Have to impress Harry because he thinks my osprey article is a book-in-waiting.
5. Jane, co-worker as well as friend, takes her two weeks' vacation at the start of August and that means I work five days a week. Shocking! I have so much to accomplish on my days off before then; and the deadline for this article is August 26.
6. Dwayne still suffering great pain from his shoulder. Bad enough that the work-a-holic is not mowing lawns this afternoon. The grass will be growing, too, since we had a really good rain overnight. Maybe this will make it easier to convince him we need a couple of sheep to do the mowing...

It's hard waiting for babies to hatch, not knowing if any are going to hatch at all. No peeps, no pecks, no taps, no pips. Just waiting and watching...peering intently through the window of the incubator or, daringly, slipping a hand underneath "Gwen" to see if anything exciting is happening under her.
Maybe tonight we'll have a baby or two.

Cool Bites

Over the weekend, we "enjoyed" temperatures in the high 30's; Mum even tried to convince us it was 42 degrees one afternoon.
Thought it was time to try this treat I learned about from the author of "Once Upon A Flock": a popsicle for chickens!

Yummy! 

Dwayne hired a kid to stack the winter wood up in the field for easier transport down to the house later this summer. Abby had a good time "helping" with the small sticks but paid a price for the fun: 

Bug bites on hairless belly

Dwayne has finally realized that my homemade hamburgers are far superior to the ones he buys pre-made and frozen from our local butcher. I've been telling him that they're not that much work and this must have convinced him, especially since he paired the burger with two slices of Mum's homemade bread: 

Dee-wicious!

Another Church Gig

Mum and I did our best impersonations of intelligent, informed and theologically-minded worship leaders today. Our theme was "Joy" and man, can we plug a theme. If I counted up, hymns included, we likely said the word joy one hundred times! That's an old trick from my radio days -- you keep hitting the same phrase over and over and it will stick in the listeners' mind.

What is sad is looking out from the pulpit and seeing a dozen people there in their seventies and eighties. There is no one young keeping the church going. Mum said there is talk of shutting down the church, and it only hosts one service a month as it is.
There are so many old, white, well-maintained country churches in rural Nova Scotia and River Philip UC is a very pretty one (with those old square pews and tall, tall windows). It's a shame to know they'll be shuttered and silent some day soon.
Sounds like an article, doesn't it, but Mum and I have been talking it over and there is no solution; it's just a lament.

Summer Has Arrived In The Maritimes

(I now have to title everything because Blogger won't post this without "required field" filled in. Why must people tweak things that were working fine before?)

The heat wave has rolled into Eastern Canada, finally. My "Monte Negro" lilies -- a deep, deep red --  popped open this morning. They are my favourite in a garden that has way too much yellow in it.
Dwayne has another flat of berries to pick today for a customer; he picked two yesterday. Next year, he likely won't have to put signs out on the side of the road; he'll be able to sell everything on pre-order. He's working in this heat, though, and the sweat is rolling off him. What makes my lilies bloom and the potatoes grow makes him wilt.
Going to warm through the weekend then hopefully rain on Monday and down to 20 degrees mid-week.
Might be time to turn the heat lamp off over the chicks!

Berry Good Weekend

What a totally country weekend! Or at least, what I consider part of my country life.
With the long weekend, I've had five days at home to read, write and do the chores I love doing. We brought home baby chicks last week so we've been hanging out with our new "peeps" all weekend. Also watching three fertile eggs under a broody hen (or two; they seem to switch it up) while Dwayne is trying to incubate nine eggs.
We went to the Friday night kitchen party, finally, at the Chatterbox Cafe in Pugwash. I'm starting to develop a following of my column. Hard work is paying off.  
Dwayne has been trying to shoot the crows that are eating the potatoes sets he FINALLY got planted after so much rainy weather. But he hasn't hit one yet. "You know you're married to a redneck," I said the other day, "when there are cigarette butts and empty shell casings littering the yard." Nice.
I've been reading Cheryl Strayed's book, "Wild", and the weirdest thing keeps happening: Her book keeps triggering something in my mind and I have to put the book down and write whatever has come to me. After five pages, it was rewriting the opening to my memoir. Last night, I wrote eight pages in my notebook. I haven't written so much longhand in ages; took an hour (I was writing as Dwayne was falling asleep).
Dwayne and I had a conversation on Sunday night, one of those wandering ones that ended up touching on how hard he has always worked and that he had three jobs when he was first married back in the early 80's. Up until the nineties, he was still going down to the farm to milk every evening. I said, "You know, if you had kept up the farm that way, I'd likely go with you to help. That way, I'd get to spend time with you and you've finish sooner to get home."
It was an idea that really resonated with me. It's never bothered me that he works so hard, even though he usually puts work ahead of everything else, but at the same time, if I could help him, I would. I liked the way that statement rang so true inside me; I'm sorry we don't get a chance to do that. Oh, well, I worked in the strawberry patch this morning and kept him company while he waited for cars to roll in. Strawberries sold well for our first two days with our roadside signs. Hopefully word will spread about our red, juicy, unsprayed berries.

Checking on the chicks...

Bruno the bear eating ants in the back field for three days certainly puts a crimp in our walking up the lane, although the bugs are too thick for that anyway so Bruno can munch in peace...

Picking strawberries...

Even the ones that don't pass Mum's strict quality control and go to our kitchen are wonderful The hens get the really squishy ones which they don't mind at all...

 

I'm the creative, marketing & PR team...

















And this is our unique marketing angle: wildflower-infused berries! See if you can spot a few red berries in there...

 

 















Mum remembered this blast from the past: a favourite book of my childhood...

So now, as I head back to work tomorrow, I'm  hoping I head out the door to fetch the newspaper in the morning only to find Bruno sitting in the middle of the strawberry patch.

I submitted an application to be a speaker at the Alzheimer Society of Nova Scotia's conference in October, hoping that speaking on "the spirituality of Alzheimer's" would be of interest to them.
A couple of weeks ago, I met the co-ordinator of the education programs at the local support group meeting and she told me unofficially that I was going to be asked to speak. This afternoon, the woman coordinating the conference called me.
Ultimately what she wants is what I want to talk about but it's not based on my idea of "spirituality". I don't think she knows what I mean by that (which means it wasn't clear in my pitch) but it also could be a recoil from the word "spirituality". I suppose since I'm not a minister or chaplain or theological PhD, I don't have the cred to talk spirituality. This is a bit of a shock -- or reality check? -- to me.
However, what she wants is my last paragraph and that I can do.  It's about the 3 essential elements: the power of the word Love; the underutilization of Music; and the myth of aggression (she objected to my use of myth). I can see if I can work my "spirit" stuff into it through the back door but then again, maybe that's not really my message. But somehow I can't see that.
Right now I'm not seeing much of anything. I get flustered so easily and since I'm at work, I can't walk the dog or do  Sun Salutations to bring myself back into balance. I did make notes of our phone conversation, though, so I can run all this by my mother, the World's Best Sounding Board; and because I'm at work, I couldn't really hash it all out with this woman so we're talking again Thursday afternoon. My confidence will be back and I'll have an outline for her based on what she wants.
Plus: I found out my presentation time is one hour. 45 minutes to present then a Q & A. All of a sudden, that seems like a lot of time.

Yet here is what has me feeling discombobulated: It's not her "rejecting" my original premise of the spirituality but from what comes rushing back when I get talking about my caregiving experience. You'd think the power of my reaction would have lessened in the four years since Dad died but talking about it brings it all back with such a rush of emotions -- including anxiety, frustration and guilt.
Now I'm worried I can't talk about it. I'm worried I gave this woman the impression I can't be "professional" about my experience. Perhaps "spirituality" kept it at arm's length but then again, talking at a conference will be enough arm's length to keep me professional, not personal.
Even though it's my personal experience she's really interested in. Right now, the working title of my presentation is "If Only I Knew Then What I Know Now: One Family's Caregiving Experience".  I hate using that cliche but maybe something better will occur to. It is accurate, though. The focus of my presentation will be two-fold: lessons learned, and the family perspective.
Lest you think this was a negative conversation that has brought me down and made me question doing this, what is best -- and what I was hoping for -- is her offer to work with me on this to create the presentation both of us (the other half of "us" being the Alzheimer Society) will be proud of. I want to make a difference, I want to help, I want to create some kind of positive outcome from my father's suffering. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen. Mum and I actually had been hashing out other words than "spirituality" so maybe stepping away from that and finding a new focus is what is needed; maybe I'm too stuck on one idea that isn't the best one.
My brain is good with percolating ideas so I just have to let go, this instant, and trust in the process that always works for me.

More pictures that tell a lot of words instead of me trying to because we sat up really late last night with a bonfire and the strawberry moon and the fireflies trying to compete but I made sure I was up early in order to go for my walk before it got too hot because believe me, mornings are so lovely here, it would be a shame to miss them but now I've vowed to be in bed by nine.

Mum was the first to spot this guy in the field.

Dwayne and I headed out on the bike to get closer.

Somebody is not sure how close he wants us.

"I'm outta here."

"How about I watch you for awhile?"

Two baby heads spotted. Will we see a third soon?

Mum's birthday lunch at the Landmark Cafe in Victoria-by-the-Sea, PEI. Lovely town, lovely day.

Photos of the action around here since I last posted. Pretty typical, I'd say:

Some of these just beg for a caption contest, don't they? And somehow, they all just seem to flow together thematically.

Given that I'm developing Reader's Waist and Writer's Butt, I am making a concerted effort to walk more, particularly on work days (which are long and involve lots of sitting). The plan is to come in the door from work and instead of sitting down with a glass of wine, put on my sneakers and take Abby for a walk along the road (that's 40 minutes, a good walk).
Before I could head out the door this afternoon for the first walk of the new regime, Dwayne said, "You'd better check on your mother."
"What? Why?"
"She came in from gardening and said she was done and going to make herself a cup of tea. I think she might have overdone it. She looked really hot."
So I trotted right upstairs where she was reclined out fully in her chair.
"Are you okay?" I asked.  "What's wrong?"
"It's just my allergies acting up," Mum answered. "I'm allergic to hard labour."

I posted scenery photos on my Field Notes (work) blog but here are the more important parts of our road trip to Ontario: the people we visited.

In Maine, I made a new friend.

At the Gayman's in Uxbridge: Cousins!

Susan Beer and her mother, Colleen Ross, in Cobourg.

Find Mrs. Stinny!

After another fabulous dinner chez Shelagh in Cobourg.

So the latest problem around here are the vast lawns that we have. You don't think much about the lawn until  you can't cut it. I don't know how many acres (no more than a couple) but Dwayne says it takes 6 hours to cut it all, including the areas that need to be cut twice a week. 

BUT

he can't work the ride-on lawn mower with his right arm. Shifting gears (or whatever) hurts his shoulder. When he says he's not sure he can mow the lawns, that means it's REALLY hurting because this guy mowed the lawns the day after his foot surgery three years ago! 

What do we do now? He's not working so there's no extra money to hire someone but the grass is longer, going to get longer with a weekend of rain. 

My schedule -- absolutely no room to add six hours of lawn mowing. And I've never been a lawn mower. Can't imagine doing it, really, I can't imagine anything I'd like to do less. Outside of the flower gardens, my job, when I remember to do it, is use the push mower on Dad's plot. Which I don't like doing because it's sloped on three sides. 

Maybe...just maybe...Dwayne will now take seriously my perennial suggestion for dealing with all the lawn we have: SHEEP!

Dwayne is away on his annual fishing trip and Mum is in Georgia so they missed Archie's TV debut this morning when he walked through the last part of my community correspondent segment on CTV Atlantic Morning Live.
I also took a behind-the-scenes photo because I'd already planned to do a work blog post on doing the segment but today, CML posted the video on their website.
Point being: I wrote it all up on my Field Notes blog so click the "work blog" link on the right to check out the video and the photograph.

My Field Notes column didn't win in its category but we had a good time at the Atlantic Community Newspaper Awards gala on Saturday night.
Too bad I didn't win; the guy sitting next to me at our table (his wife was a presenter from Atlantic Lottery) vowed to give a big loud "Woot! Woot!" if the MC called my name.