Ok, here's the final blog. It's 8.30pm and I'm still awake, so the fight against jet-lag is one I'm winning (so far). I've spent the day telephoning companies, writing letters and beginning to unpack my belongings from my parents house. Productive!
Also I called into my house and it looks clean and in decent condition. Phew.
What's immediately noticeable? Rolling hills, sheep, the ease of familiarity, the traffic, how people speak to each other, food, English money, houses made of bricks...I could go on. In particular I notice people. I went to town, and felt straight away to be amongst 'my' people. Strangers, yet somehow familiar. And the soft tone of a Mackam voice. Beautiful.
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Thank you for joining me on my journey. I wish you health and happiness, wherever you may be.
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I want to sign off but am conscious that once I'm more awake I might have more to say, so I won't end this blog just yet. I think a summation is in order...zzz...later...
Things I will miss about Canada: how clean it is everywhere (very little litter), the friendliness of strangers, the trees, the wildlife, the water, the sunshine, the crossing the road, hitch-hiking, driving on the right, Canadian money, Green Cuisine, funny place names, travelling on the ferry.
Why I'm looking forward to when I get back: lots of baths, mashed potato, my own bed, tv, talking about the weather, new clothes, cheap texting, English money, English humour, and of course, people!
It's our last night in Canada and I'm blogging from the bath! My first bath in four and a half months and only my second in Canada. The nice hostel was full so we treated ourselves to a better room at the not as nice hostel. En-suite and a bath :)
Plus we just got back from Green Cuisine. The only thing I'm lacking is a rubber duck!
Will all of the rain fall out of the sky?
Asked the shy little girl with the bright blue eyes
Will the rain form a lake outside in the road
can we travel to school in a big rowing boat
Will the teachers teach with their wellies on
Talking away as if nothing is wrong.
Will playtimes pass really really fast
watching ducks out the window, swimming on the grass.
Will work be impossible, far too wet
We'll play all day - the best day yet
Will all the rain fall out of the sky?
Asked the sly little girl with a wink in her eye
We must be the only people in the hostel cooking actual meals. Lasagne, nachos and chilli, spaghetti. People look at us at bit funny sometimes, as they reheat their canned soup or munch on their toast.
I also meant to say that given we've had pretty damn near perfect weather for the last six months complaining about two days rain just wouldn't seem right! Let it rain!
What is a name
when to daughters passed,
at best, a double-barrelled
misfit that is cast.
The genes of a daughter
matter, no less
but equality fails,
the rules do define
history has spoken
there's no going back,
no sons to be had.
A name might be lost
a female curse,
looked back on fondly,
for better or worse.
I was contemplating what I'm going to need to sort/unpack/arrange in order to get to Scotland (with the mountaineers) three days after I get back. I plugged in my iPod and the first song was Wild Mountain Thyme. 'Will ye go lassie go?'
We spent this morning picking mushrooms in the forest. Apart from the farce of finding the right path (fourth attempt, which was the same trail as the first attempt!) it was kind of fun. The hosts helped spot them and it was nice to get a walk.
Treasure small enough,
to fit in the palm of your hand,
no real use
and yet you still command
the power to make me smile.
As if pulled back in time
I hunt,
searching for the one,
green coats split
to reveal
shiny brown spheres
of perfection.
No longer needed in battle
yet, still retaining a
special skill
the hint of autumn come
and a child within
Maybe Tomorrow
There's a voice that keeps on calling me
Down the road, that's where I'll always be.
Every stop I make, I make a new friend,
Can't stay for long, just turn around and I'm gone again
Maybe tomorrow, I'll want to settle down,
Until tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on.
The Littlest Hobo (for the uninitiated)
Today the weather has turned and it's finally raining. It's just like England! We raked leaves, picked tomatoes, made chilli and brought in the firewood. I don't know if there's any more work to be done, so we're taking the chance to rest and get dry.
The lone flower
clings to the mountainside
battered by wind
its firm roots
grip tightly
A thing of beauty
it wants for nothing
in its solitude
I sit in the sun, the sound of the salmon splashing in the stream below me. The kingfisher darts to and from the water and the dragonflies hover and flit.
The bees go about their business, a musical accompaniment as I soak up the heat and watch the trees.
Logs lie strewn like long forgotten gravestones. Overgrow and old. The smell of the wood stove gently permeates the air. In the distance the trees caress the mountainside and an eagle soars.
Cold wraps itself around
gnawing at bones
creeping insidiously inwards
till its made itself at home
teeth voice their complaints
to a body trying to control its thermostat
extra socks, a pitiful attempt to placate
cold toes
that second layer
no match for the instigator
of a sore throat and blocked nose
