Christmas Flashback

This is our Christmas tree five years ago. It was a beaut.
I post this photo because we don't have a tree at all this year. With both the cats being climbers, with Remy being a chewer and Leonard being a climber, we decided it would be a lot easier on our nerves -- and on my very sentimental collection of ornaments -- to not put up a tree this year.
Verily I say unto you, it is possible to do Christmas without a tree. We get so hung up on "the way things are supposed to be" and "the way we've always done things", we get so caught up in the rituals that we forget the purpose of the ritual in the first place, we lose sight of the reason we do the things we do.
Our Christmas will be no different, no less peaceful and joy-filled and lovely, no less memorable than any other Christmas we've celebrated together since 2006.
But this is the first time since we married that we haven't put up a tree. Even the year we were flying to Georgia on December 26, we still used my lighted palm tree (supposedly for a summer patio) as a holiday tree -- and spent much of our days pulling Archie the kitten off the top of it.
Another reason for not putting up a tree this year is the simple fact that as soon as December 28 rolls around, I am back to work with a vengeance. Back to church work, on the same schedule I've followed since September, but also getting to work on the 25 essays that need to be completed by the end of February for Nimbus.
So I've put up a minimum of decorations this year -- only stars on the mantel, only a few Santas (Faron's, of course), the mice on the TV table, and of course the family Christmas photos -- in order to be able to un-decorate in one evening. There are so many lights outside, however, including the shooting star and -- wait for it -- the Snoopy inflatable (yes! we inflated this year!) that we don't really miss the tree inside.
Well, only a little. 
And this is how I figure it: next Christmas, when I'm taking a break from promoting my book, I have the joy of decorating the tree and the thrill of seeing my precious ornaments again to experience. Being tree-less in 2015 will make the return of the rituals of Christmas 2016 even more meaningful.
Besides, we all know I've already received my best Christmas gift!

I Am Number Five

The whole reason my husband told me to get another cat -- little realizing I fully intended on getting a bonded pair the next time I adopted -- was to control the mice population that might emerge from the wood that had just been stacked in the basement.
In less than three months, the two cats have proven my husband's wisdom: This morning, Remy trotted upstairs with Dead Mouse Number Five in his mouth.
This was the best photo I could get, and then it was time for incineration in the wood furnace.
Of course, Dwayne wasn't home. It's all well and good to have the cats catching mice but I'm not the kind of wannabe country girl who nonchalantly scoops up a dead critter and disposes of it.
But I donned the dishwashing gloves and did it today because of Dead Mouse Number Four.
Early yesterday morning, while I was doing yoga, the cats came upstairs with a dead mouse and since they seemed to be having such a good time playing with it and since I didn't want to interrupt my yoga practice, I let them play.
But when Dwayne got up and couldn't find the mouse, and when Remy wasn't interested in his breakfast chicken, I learned that playing eventually leads to eating so now I'm under strict orders to dispose of any mouse that makes an appearance on our dining room rug.

Fewer Treats In Christmas Food Boxes

As published in the Citizen-Record newspaper on Wednesday, December 16, 2015, by Sara Jewell.

The Christmas Food Boxes prepared every year by the Oxford Lionettes are now filled for 45 families, including 62 children, who are receiving this seasonal help.

            “The boxes are meant to give a little extra help to those who can’t quite make it through the Christmas season, with all of the costs involved,” explained Heather MacDonald, president of the Lionettes club and also a volunteer with the Oxford Food Bank and a member of Trinity United Church in Oxford.

            According to Heather, some of the people on the list use the food bank regularly but she said for more than half, it’s a one-time thing.

“They’re trying to buy Christmas presents and pay the bills so that little extra, like a turkey and groceries, just helps out.”

            But while demand for the boxes is not dropping, the number of donations is. The community groups and organizations that the Lionettes have received financial support from for more than 20 years are dwindling in membership, or even disbanding. Heather sent out eight fewer letters to churches and organizations this year.

            “We also have struggled with food donations for a number of years,” she added. “It started out with all the churches doing white gifts. On the day we used to do the White Gift service, we would take all the gifts into the vestry then they would come pouring in from all these other churches and we would have at least four long tables set up and they’d be loaded.”

            Now many churches are closed or not doing white gifts so a couple of small tables are enough to hold this year’s food donations. It also means extras like baking supplies are now being slashed from the grocery list because of fewer monetary donations.

“We also used to buy pancake mix and syrup because it’s not just dinner,” she said. “You want families to get up Boxing Day and have something to eat. It’s Christmas Day, and a little bit on top of that. But the on-top-of-that is disappearing.”

            Going public with her pleas for help has generated more private donations.

“We’ve had a few more individuals step up which has helped,” Heather said. “Either people will have to step up or we’ll just continue to slash the grocery list.”

            So that’s where this is heading, folks. As fewer of us participate in church and community groups, we need to fill the gap as compassionate, generous individuals.

            And yet, all the calls for donations during the holiday season can be overwhelming, draining both on the emotions and on the bank account.

            Here are a couple of ideas: This year, instead of exchanging gifts, members of the United Church Women’s groups donated boxes of chocolates to be included in the food boxes as treats.

            My own solution is better organization. I’ve gone to my 2016 calendar and written “Xmas Food Boxes” and “Mittens & Socks” on the page for October. I’m going to start that month to collect items for those two seasonal drives. At the same time, I’m going to start buying items regularly for the other organizations I supported this year that have ongoing needs.

            It will take only creative thinking, and a few new habits, to keep the Christmas tradition of helping others alive for another twenty years.

Proof I take my own advice.

Field Notes, the Book

Celebrating a signed book contract.

Yes, that says 'book'!
Field Notes: A City Girl's Observations of Country Life has been sold to Nimbus for publication in October 2016.
Thank goodness they had a gap in their fall catalogue for a book just like mine because there is no way I'd be able to wait until spring 2017! It's been hard enough waiting a month to make the official announcement. I wanted to wait until the contract was actually signed, which I did in Halifax yesterday. And how appropriate that my husband, who supports my writing by keeping me fed and the house clean and leaving me little notes that tell me to keep going, was the witness to the contract.
So a big leap forward in the big red Bog boots!

Portrait of a Bird At Impact

I am a negligible, and rather negligent, housekeeper. I have no qualms about admitting this; I used to be more dedicated to cleanliness but now I've morphed into an absent-minded writer. I'm kind of like Pig Pen of "Peanuts" fame, churning up puffs of dirt as I wander through the house carrying a mug half-full of hot lemon water. Thinking about stories, not dust bunnies.
It's always a question of priorities and deadlines now. When nine o'clock comes, I head upstairs to my office, not to the closet to haul out the vacuum. When four o'clock arrives, I head out the door for a mind-clearing walk with the dog, not the kitchen to tidy up the day's dishes.
Because of this, sunny days drive me crazy. It makes me wonder why we have such big windows. The sunshine lands on cabinet tops and picture frames and reveals the layer of dust that has gathered since I last wielded my dusting glove. This morning, the low angle of the almost-winter sun slanted across the countertop in the kitchen and revealed the crumbs and salt shakes left behind by my husband's evening snacks.
So it's nice to discover remnants of a hard-working life left on a screen that are actually worth saving, worth photographing, worth admitting still exist. No bird was harmed in the creation of this portrait. An angel among us. Delivering a message? I take it as a sign to keep writing and not worry about washing windows.
Which reminds me, I washed the bed sheets this morning and really should try and get them dried and back on the mattress before bedtime.

Local Muslims Find Acceptance & A Life of Peace

As published in the Citizen-Record newspaper on Wednesday, December 2, 2015 by Sara Jewell.

Alia Kamareddine & her daughter, Zaynah, serve tea and sweets to guests in their home.

Perhaps what makes the Syrian refugee crisis a struggle for some people to understand is that most of us don’t have first-hand experience with living inside a war-ravaged country. We may have grown up hearing stories about our great-grandparents and the circumstances that often forced them to leave their country of birth but that’s not the same as living the experience.

            Alia Kamareddine of Port Philip, Nova Scotia, knows first-hand what it’s like. She and her husband, Sam Mohamad, immigrated to Canada from Lebanon in 1988, shortly after they married at the age of 18. They left Lebanon because of the civil war that ravaged their homeland between 1975 and 1990.

            Alia and Sam and their four children are Muslim. What does it mean to be Muslim, to raise children and run a business and have a social life in Nova Scotia? To be one of “those people” in a place like Cumberland County?

            “We’re very happy to be living here,” Alia says. “There’s lots of nice people, and I never get any backlash from anyone. I’ve never experienced that ever.”

            So when Alia reads comments about Muslim refugees being a drain on Canada, or that all Muslims are terrorists, it makes her feel very sorry for the refugees.

            “They’re running away from ISIS and lots of them don’t have houses or water or electricity, they don’t have anything,” she says. “I really sympathize with them because we went through the same thing in Lebanon during the civil war.”

            Alia and Sam have three sons and a daughter, Zaynah, who at 15 is the youngest. She is more than willing to engage in conversation with others about the realities facing the Syrian refugees.

            “I feel like some people don’t understand what the Syrians are coming from,” she says. “They’re trying to leave their country of war. My parents were in the same situation, not as extreme, but they came from war and they came here and started with nothing. Now we have a business and a house and food, we have everything we need, and I feel the Syrian refugees can do the same thing.”

            Zaynah, who is fluent in Arabic, sees both sides of the story presented through the news and shared on Facebook.

            “There’s been a lot of wars in the Middle East so I feel the people there who are writing the news have been through the same things the Syrians are going through now. When I see Facebook posts from Canada targeting the Syrians, saying they are terrorists and they don’t belong here, that really breaks my heart.”

            What breaks her mother’s heart is the impact the war in Syria is having on children.

           “The children are hungry and they can’t go to school. None of them are going to school now. The UN should do something about that,” Alia says.

            So really, any immigrant, any refugee, any Muslim is just like any of us. The average person in Syria, in Lebanon, in Turkey or Ukraine or any other place of conflict just wants to work, raise their kids and be safe.

            “We want to live in peace but politics kills people,” Alia says. “It’s not the people, it’s politics. It’s like you have a checkers game and someone big is moving those checkers.”

            “Canada is the most peaceful and accepting country,” she adds, “so we expect Canadians won’t have a problem letting in Syrian refugees.”

Soul Walk

When you leave the familiar path, abandon the usual way, and venture into the unknown, the undiscovered -- at least to your own eyes and feet -- you often find something you didn't know you were missing.
Like a memory or a feeling. Or both.
The memory of feeling this way before, when I was a child walking in the woods behind our cottage on Rice Lake in Ontario.
So this walk through a field, along the barbed wire fence keeping the cows in their pasture, this walk along a faint deer trail, this walk through a deciduous wood, reminded me of my father, reminded me of my childhood, made me feel that way again, young and free and safe, exploring and learning and opening up, made me sense my father's presence not beside me but inside me, alive, living on.
The field was deeper than I realized, larger than it looks from the road, a long way down to the river, to a little point of land my husband had told me about, a point he sees from a boat and feels calling to his spirit, begging him to come in and be still.
I sat there for awhile, on that secret, cherished point, listening to the choppy river lap at the shore, listening to the wind through the tall, brittle grasses, hearing the dog's short bursts of exploration and return, breathing in, trying to make my eyes wide enough -- panoramic -- to take it all in: the wide swath of water, the sparkling sunshine, the dry yellow river grass, the morning air, the autumn breeze, the place, the feeling, the longing.
And so through my husband, who has lived here all his life, who has this river running through the veins of his body, I reached through and found my father, found a memory of a feeling that brought my soul to the surface, floating like a leaf on the edge of a wave.