Tag Archives: rural

The next chapter: moving rural (2)

Community, connections, diversity, Rural Life, , , ,

Community in Carrying Place

We have stepped into the pages of a novel filled with richly drawn characters – more than a hint of Stephen Leacock, but giving life too to my reading of Mary Lawson (writing about a more northerly Ontario rural community), Robertson Davies’ Salterton Trilogy, Monique Proulx’s Laurentian forest folk. I think perhaps it is easier to live in an unconstrainedly authentic way outside a city. Whether this is because of the people this life attracts, the grounding effect of an ever-present awareness of the natural world, less pressure from the tyranny of ‘nomal’ or something I do not yet understand I am not sure.

I love that there are farming families who have been here for generations, with a deep knowledge of and love for the land. There are those who left but felt the tug of their roots and returned, those who came thirty or twenty years ago, those who drive five hours each way every summer weekend from Pennsylvania or western Ontario, and newcomers like us – a healthy mix that includes at least a little multicultural leavening. It is good to know that about 60% of us are permanent residents.

The community is drawn from all walks of life; as well as the farming families we have so far met a lawyer, a civil servant fresh from a posting as Consul General, the published author of a fantasy novel, a forensic psychologist, a tech entrepreneur, a lawyer, a physiotherapist, a wonderful character with many stories to tell who described starting adult life as a ‘huckster’[1], the Chinese owner of a local fishing lodge and his wife who runs an LED import business, a couple with a tech background who have a smallholding with a straw-bale home, and more.

One eighty-year-old neighbor settled here with her ex-naval husband after travelling the seas on a schooner he built. She is on intimate terms with the raccoons, as well as the ubiquitous chipmunks and squirrels, and has this summer permitted the construction of the Groundhog Hilton in her rockery, though she plans a forced resettlement of the young engineer next Spring.

Carrying Place 2016 (19 of 33)

The pot of honey and card that arrived on our doorstep between our pre-closing inspection and our return from the lawyer with the ‘keys to the kingdom’ were no one-off. There is a genuine kindness and warmth that seems to characterize our new ‘hood; people take care of each other. There will always be someone willing to share their knowledge or who can help with the things that need doing. And there is something pretty awesome about setting out for an evening paddle and ending up getting to know new neighbours over a beer on their island party deck!

[1] Dictionary definition of huckster: retailer of small articles, especially a peddler of fruits and vegetables; hawker.

The next chapter: moving rural (1)

our home, Rural Life, , , ,

A good friend asked for my first impressions of this new stage of our lives. If I had to choose one word, it would be ‘blessed’.

Homecoming

For me there is a real sense of coming full circle, of ‘home’, of ‘returning to the land of my soul’[1]. Although I have tried throughout my life to live authentically, have enjoyed each new stage and adventure, all the riches of experiences and connections, in returning to rural life there is a feeling of re-accessing a true, deep part of me that I associate with my childhood and teens. I was a child of nature, integrally connected with the rhythm of the seasons, with a strong link between external and internal realities. I have at times struggled to find that link amid urban overload. Here it is a sweet, familiar melody running through my living.

Always the lake . . .

As each day dawns, I am excited to experience anew the beauty of ‘most this amazing day’[2].

Carrying Place 2016 (3 of 33)
Carrying Place 2016 (10 of 33)
Carrying Place 2016 (11 of 33)

 

Cranberry Lake, a cranberry bog flooded during the construction of the Rideau Canal, is what I see when I open my bedroom curtains; it takes my breath away every time I glimpse it. In a house with more windows than walls, it is a constant presence, the backdrop to our lives.

Some days, the water has been sprinkled with diamonds or fine, powdery glitter. Then there are the times of mirror calm, when every island become a Rorschach inkblot, or of grey shot with silver, of rising mist heralding the mellow mornings of Fall; and, to start and end the day the sun (and sometimes the moon) throw fire into the lake, painting it in reds and golds or soft pinks and purples.

 

Carrying Place 2016 (25 of 33)
Carrying Place 2016 (30 of 33)
Carrying Place 2016 (29 of 33)

I have always loved the wind, but until now I had not begun to understand its subtleties; the lake shows me how its tendrils touch and change things, shows me the quiet spaces where the wind is not. I notice which way the wind is blowing – usually from the south east; even through this hot August, colder when from the north.

Carrying Place 2016 (14 of 33)
Carrying Place 2016 (18 of 33)
Carrying Place 2016 (16 of 33)

 

The lake roots us in change, it is never quite the same as it was. Out paddling in the flat calm of early morning, I understood both that that calm is always present beneath the water’s every mood and that in those moments of absolute calm it is can most fully reflect back the light – it is truly magical to watch it ripple on a leafy overhang.

[1] A reference to a lovely song I know through Neshama Carlbach, ‘Return Again’ 

[2] e.e. cummings ‘I thank You God for most this amazing’