Mom's Flocks

My Mother loved to grow anything but her Flocks were special. Mom bought some flock roots from a lady in Bras D'or and from these roots came a beautiful Flock display. Our earth was poor in our yard in Cape Breton but the flower garden flourished in spite of it. Many colours made a real contribution to our back and front yard.

When I moved to the Ottawa valley and owned my first home Mom gave me a few roots to plant. I was visiting home and making the traditional walk through her backyard when she took a shovel and plucked some roots into a pail. I never thought that they would live through our home travel but they were planted in excellent soil as soon as we arrived home and they did well.

That year they survived and grew to a large and healthy state. The following year I was greeted to a fine display of white and red blooms. I moved a year later to a newer home and took the flocks with me. Again they grew and as I moved more times I always took Mom's Flocks along for the ride. One year we had terrible rust on the flowers and I thought they were a goner.

Mom came to visit a few times and she always looked for her flowers. She passed away at a young age and I kept her memory fresh with the cultivation of these flocks. After several more moves we settled here in Ontario and the flowers flourished. I mentioned once to my older sister that I had some of Mom's flocks and she wondered if I could spare a few. I brought some roots home to Cape Breton and the circle was complete. Her husband was a wonderful Gardner and he grew the flowers with great success.

Here in my back yard I have a little plot reserved for the flocks. Every year they are a different colour and this year they are blue or mauve. After a half century of travelling with me they have found a home here with us.

Garden Chores

It is easy to watch your garden grow and not notice the battle among competing vegetation. In grade four my teacher said that a weed was any plant that is growing where it is not wanted. I pride myself in saying that I don't have any weeds growing in my garden but this week I noticed an invasion of strange green plants among our vegetables.

Strawberry plants have a way of travelling many feet in a short time. Our cucumbers are climbing our neighbours hedge and overtaking the tomato plants that were planted eight feet apart. The climbing beans have invaded the apple tree and our Virginia Climber have filled our second floor gutters. I call these invaders weeds as they have to be conquered and the garden restored to an orderly selection of vegetables......wrong...I have not the heart to kill these green plants so I try to move them to their own space.

It would be easier to cut and bundle these plants and make them compost but somehow the beans can be picked from the apple tree and the cucumbers are able to be harvested from my neighbours hedge. The grapes planted on the fence line have taken a liking to the neighbours smoke tree and have engulfed it. I told him he could keep the grapes but he did not smile.

Anyone who has morning glories knows that once they are rooted they make their area safe for themselves and crowd out everything else. Ours were planted to cover a trellis and they did but they have invaded the climbing rose bushes and now we have purple roses among the red roses.

The past few days I have tried to bring order to our greenery and I did in a sense that I have joined up with the free spirits of our flowers and vegetables and have recognized them as equal and may the strongest prevail or learn to live together in harmony. In any case I love to walk among our flora and recognize it for what it is ...sheer beauty.

Family Boating

Boating has always been in my blood and at the first opportunity I built a canoe and later owned a number of boats large and small. Probably the pleasure I derived came from the fact that once on the water with your boat or watercraft you leave your connection to land with it's demands. When our children were very young we owned a cottage and had three watercraft. The kids used to love the old punt. It was a home made ,flat bottomed boat , powered by home made oars and leaked like a basket in spring.

The kids with life jackets in place , would bail out this boat with the help of their friends and amuse themselves for hours. Many years later we had a slick 22 foot Starcraft with an inboard and toured the Ottawa River over a sixty mile range. Once on board the family were compelled to adjust and cope with each other for the hours we plied the river. We came together as a family on these ventures and pulled into beaches for bathroom breaks and exploration. These adventures made our kids understand the nature of the out of doors and an appreciation for the natural beauty of our environment. They also became good boaters and were my stable crew when we bought a larger boat.

This new boat had a long history dating back to the second world war when it was commissioned into the Royal Navy as Jocelyn the Third. After years in the service it was purchased by a man in Peterborough and sailed the local waters for years before I managed to buy her and take her to the Ottawa River and renamed her Miss Pembroke.

This purchase was without a doubt one of the best family motivators. We as a family used every opportunity to get out on the river. The big thing was that she was large enough to take all the friends. Miss Pembroke was registered to carry 55 passengers and a crew of three. There were times that we filled the Quota and then some. The other day I was looking through the captains log and estimated that over the years we sailed this boat several thousand friends and family benefited from their trip on the Ottawa.

We had cabinet ministers, Lords and Ladies, men and women of the cloth and all between risk a cruise on the Miss Pembroke. She was a fine stable craft capable of handling bad weather and on one occasion sailed by a tornado with my son in law hiding under the seat afraid for his life. The storm came within a hundred meters of us and veered off to the Quebec side. The real story of the Miss Pembroke was that it was a family boat where everyone was welcome. She re-opened up the Ottawa River after fifty years of neglect. The lumber industry polluted the river with millions of log and made it unsafe to travel this magnificent seven hundred mile waterway until the industry started to truck the logs rather than to have log drives every spring and summer.

For we, the family she was freedom to go up the river for corn boils, sunset cruises and just plain pleasure. I loved that boat and feel sad that she now rests out of water with a new name as a tourist bureau. Yes boats help to bond families, educate people about our water resource, provide a peaceful time for us to just chill out and escape the rigors of the day.

Another Birthday

As I have said many times a birthday is important in our family. Sadly we were unable to gather the clan for this special occasion as some of us work. Better put I should have said that some of them work. My son is 44 and comfortable in his skin. He has become the careful , skilled one when it comes to projects requiring measuring and precise fitting as in finish work.

As a youngster he loved music and playing with hot wheels until he was old enough to discover the world of technology. At twelve he volunteered at the local cable TV station and began a paying job at CHRO shortly after. Since we were a family connected to the Ottawa River he became one of the youngest people to receive his captains papers at sixteen. He was a responsible person on the river with our family boat the Miss Pembroke. I trusted him to do the right thing and he usually did but there were occasions that he tells me about now that give me doubts about his overnight excursions on the mighty Ottawa.

Good friends give parents that security to know all is well and he did have good friends. As a matter of fact his friends back then are still his good friends now. His son is much like him and as he ages I know his influence will hold him in good stead. It is a good feeling to have children who become your good friends when you enter that stage when you become a senior citizen. Even though I don't feel old the calendar tells me that I should live every day to the fullest. Theresa and I do our best to live up to that motto and every birthday we celebrate makes us more aware of the gift we have in children and grand children.

Later this month my son will come to us and with a outdoor meal of steak ( his speciality ) and fresh grown vegetables we will celebrate his B'day again. His own family probably spoiled him already but we are prepared to do it again. Happy birthday son Henry.

Doris Up, Up And Away

My 92 year old mother-in-law is a frequent traveller. She accompanies us on most of our trips and all the ones we make to Florida. She is a good traveller and rarely sleeps on our long 16 hour days on our way south. This week she is travelling to New Brunswick to spend a few weeks with her sister-in -law Polly.They have been friends for longer than most of us have been living and still love each others' company. The weeks of visitation have already been filled with social engagements and I am sure that when she steps on the scale on returning to Ontario, she will be in for a shock. Down there they know how to cook and eat.

Doris gets excited when she travels and sleeps lightly the night before leaving. This morning I heard her creeping around well before her normal time of getting up. She tries to be quiet but I hear her. She has packed her clothes days before and checks and re-checks everything a dozen times.

She is not a nervous flyer and gets special treatment because of her age; seat number F, row 1. Since there is little service on flights these days she packs a good lunch. Usually she shares it with her seatmates, specially if it is a young man.

Today we drove Doris over to Hamilton to board the West Jet flight. You would never know that she was her age as she walked through security. We will miss her for a few weeks and will pick her up at her sister-in-law's house to travel home. I know Doris will have a great visit and tell us of all her adventures while in New Brunswick.

Skilled Workers From Central America

Yesterday I had a new roof put on my house. Not a complete roof but a portion not considered bad enough to do when we had our shingles replaced eight years ago. My son and myself planned to do the work ourselves but a good salesman for the roofing company convinced me otherwise. He promised to do the work quickly and professionally for a good price and I was sold. The temperature was 32 degrees and with the high humidity it felt like 38 C.

I received a phone call from the boss and he said the workers would be there at four o'clock. A white van appeared in my driveway on time and five men crawled out and instantly began the job. One came to the door and asked for water and that was the total conversation. Everyone in the crew knew his job. Without words they ripped off the shingles and laid the new fabric after clearing and nail heads. I was quite amazed at the smooth transition from one stage to the other.

Ladders were placed at crucial points and the bundles of shingles were carried up the narrow ladder and placed in the proper places. Everything was done by hand. No machines here and not a complaint. This was the third house they were doing this day. At seven the work was done and cleanup over. As they were packing their equipment I had a conversation with the leader. He and two of the others were from Costa Rica and the other two chaps were from Honduras.

They were here in Canada on a work visa but planned to become Canadian citizens at the first opportunity. Their quality of work and their cheerful attitude made me appreciate the contributions immigrants make to our country. In the few minutes we talked, I was won over by these hard working men from Central America. Before leaving, the leader took me for a quick tour of their work. They were proud of their completed job and I was satisfied that I had a good roof over my head.

Ouimet Canyon

Half a century ago I was principal of a school in Dorion, Northern Ontario. It was a rural area where lumbering was king and commercial fishing was a close second. The residents of this area were mainly European, first and second generation. People from Finland and Denmark were in the majority and their culture was apparent. Steam baths and cross country skiing were the winter way of life. I lived in the village in a teacherage provided by the board of education. The whole area was in an improvement district and was not incorporated. My role was to bring the school up to a respectable level and I was given a free hand to reach this goal.

I attempted to give the students a feeling of "you can do it". I hired a complete new staff but kept one local. Every staff member I hired had to have energy and a attitude that would blend with my philosophy. I wanted to have the students appreciate their environment and to take advantage of the wilderness surrounding the school to learn the academics necessary.

We designed an outdoor education program involving getting out there one half day a week. Walking tours and skating on the lakes but above all examining the natural wonders found there.
Hearing from a trapper of a natural wonder made me think of a long range project. There was a canyon with no bottom some said a few miles from the school. We never knew exactly where so we had this wonderful geography project for the grade sevens and eight classes. We pretended we were explorers and started to study the available maps. We sought the best possible routes to reach the canyon and with compass and charts set out to discover.

We had four groups, each with a leader and a local parent as helpers, and decided to make it a Friday -Saturday project. 58 students and 8 adults were to have the time of our lives. We all started from the school with everything we needed, food, tents and lots of fly dope. We planned to join up at the small lake close to the canyon floor. Only one person in the group ever saw the canyon. The routes we chose were all about the same distance from the school and ranged from 5 to 6 miles. What a sight to the local people to see us trekking through fields, along cattle trails and lumbering roads to find this natural wonder.

We did arrive at the selected sight for the camp around dark. Tents were raised, fires started and food prepared. I discovered that there was an Independence about these students and first hand knowledge of the land. Everyone seemed to know what to do, what a relief for me. Before settling down for the night we told a few stories and I listened to the tales of this place. Although they were never there they all heard stories. We told of the plans for tomorrow and with a few camp songs we retired. It started to rain so everyone settled down quickly.

Next day we set about exploring. What a sight. Canyon walls hundreds of meters rising from a deep hole where the sun never reaches with its warm rays. Unfamiliar vegetation and a lake filled with land locked salmon and brook trout. All morning we saw, recorded, mapped and stared at this wonder. As we retraced our steps home one student said he discovered Ouimet Canyon. It was spontaneous and we called it by that name ever since. Actually it was marked on a map in that way.

What a wonderful couple of days. Our local reporter was one of the parents and wrote a huge story of the event. Our school fed off of this little safari and for the next weeks our English and math programs were received by the students with enthusiasm. Mapping became a pleasure, not a chore and I achieved what I wished - students who wanted to learn.

Fifty years later this Ouimet Canyon is a provincial park and nearby Eagle Canyon is a tourist attraction. I have re-visited this place several times since and I always remember the first time I saw Ouimet Canyon with my kids, the students of Dorion Public School.