I'm home, Ms J. Did you miss me?

Ahhhh, it feels good to be home. It's nice to get away, of course, but it always feels good to be home, to sleep in my own bed, to put my feet under my own breakfast table.

I had a nice visit with Mum and Dad. I arrived in Mt. Forest in time for breakfast Sunday morning, as I'd left home before sunrise. I'm quite accustomed to rising early, Ms J, so it was easy to get out of bed at 5:30. It was an hour and a quarter later than I usually get up. I'd actually been looking forward to being present for the sunrise as it first appeared on a rural horizon. I was not disappointed.

Mum told me once that when you see something that fills you with wonder, it's a gift from God, personally. Custom-made just for you. The sky on Sunday morning was clear, cloudless, but for a small section in the east. The only trace of cloud to be seen was right where the sun was coming up. Light cirrus. Perfect for reflecting the splendour of the newborn day!


A gift. A personal gift.

I parked the car and took a few more photos, but the although the camera can record the image, it cannot capture the thrill of the moment. It cannot recall the feeling of being present as Light first touches land. I've witnessed thousands of sunrises, Ms Journal. I consider it one of the benefits of my job. It never fails to fill my heart.


See the Light as it touches the car? So soft. So gentle. It touches me the same way, and all the earth in its time.

My sister, June, was at Mum's too. Her kids, Shauna and Ryan were with her. Little Ryan stayed home with Granddad after breakfast while the girls and I went to church. It was fun to spend time with my sister. And I adore those little ones. Ryan is five. His sister is six.

After lunch, we all drove up to the little town of Meaford, Ontario to spend Thanksgiving Sunday with another sister. Helen has three teenagers and a boyfriend. All were present for a delicious turkey dinner. The drive to Meaford was enjoyable. The kids rode with Mum and Dad; June rode with me. The weather was brilliant and the leaves were very pretty. We stopped on the way to take pictures.


Shauna and Ryan smile from Granddad's car.


June. A good month. A great sister.

Meaford is a quaint little town perched proudly on the shore of Georgian Bay, a part of Lake Huron. It's a vacationer's paradise, Ms J, with boating, swimming and fishing in summer, and skiing and snowmobiling in winter. It's very picturesque.


And there was very little traffic to contend with. See the lake?


Finally, we'd arrived.

Helen prepared a fabulous meal for ... let me see now, Mum and Dad, me and June, June's two kids, Helen and John, Helen's three teens, and a special guest, Andreas. Helen's daughter spent the past year in Sweden on a Rotary Club exchange. Jenna's Swedish friend, Andreas has come to spend the next few months with Jenna's family here in Canada. Andreas seems a nice young man, but he's shy.


He's also a talented musician. He played for us and Jenna sang. She's got a lovely voice!

Helen and John are catsitting. Is there such a word, I wonder? My sister is caring for a friend's cat. Kitten, actually. I think it's about eight weeks old. My word, Ms J. Aren't kittens adorable?


The kids loved the kitty. "Let me hold him, Uncle Dale. It's my turn now."


The little bugger fancied me, I think.

And My Word, Ms J! Don't kittens have sharp teeth?!!


OUCH!! Why you little son-of-a- ...!!!!

Helen has twins. I guess it runs in the family. My sisters Jill and June are twins - identical twins. They're 43 years old and they still look alike. Helen had fraternal twins. Kyle and Leanne are nineteen - just eight days younger than their wayward cousin, my Daniel. Both are in university. Both good students. They really like their young cousins.


Kyle and Ryan.


Leanne and Shauna.

I think everyone had a good day. I wish the rest of the family had been there, but the others were busy celebrating Thanksgiving with inlaws (or outlaws, as the case may be.) Daniel and Meagan spent the weekend with their mal-adjusted mother and her wacky friends. It was 9:00 when we left Meaford to return to Dad's place in Mt. Forest. The drive takes about an hour.


Here's Helen with her daughter Leanne and niece Shauna. Shauna's name is really Erika, but I like the name Shauna better.

On Monday afternoon, June went home. The kids and I played in the garden while Dad and June packed the car.


"I can't find Ryan, Dad. Do you think I've stuffed him in here?"

Is there anything more fun than blowing soapy bubbles, Ms J? I think not!


Blowing bubbles.


... And chasing them.

It's brilliant, Ms J! Such fun! Aren't bubbles amazing?!!

Soon though, June and the kids were gone and I was alone with my parents. Dad and I worked together around the house to get things ready for winter. We gathered up the lawn furniture and stored it away. We put the barbecue away. We dismantled the canopy that shaded the deck and stored that away too. Small tasks, really, but easier and more fun when you have help. I really enjoy working with my dad, helping him. Dad has always done things with great care and pride. Me? I'd rather do a poor job but get it done quickly. It was good practice for me to take time and do things properly, Dad's way.

"Do it once," says Dad. "Do it right."

As we worked, it occurred to me that young people rush around doing things as quickly as possible, and blaming mistakes on a dearth of time, while the elders seem to have plenty of time. In fact, quite the opposite is true. A thirty year-old man can look forward to another half century in which to complete his tasks, while an octogenarian like my father must surely know his days are numbered.

"Do it once. Do it right."

It makes sense, Ms J. I'll try to learn to slow down.

On Tuesday, we picked apples. Dad has three apple trees. One grows Spy apples, one grows McIntosh, and the other grows both varieties. Strange, I know. But my father is crazy about trees. He grafted a limb from a Spy apple tree onto a McIntosh tree. Or something like that. Now he's got a hybrid tree that offers a bounty of both types. The limbs were so heavy with fruit, Dad was afraid a good wind would damage his beloved trees.


"The best crop I ever had!"


These are Spy apples. Spies are rather tart, good for making pies or my favourite, apple sauce.

We picked about two and a half bushels of apples off one tree. We put them on a plastic sled the kids use in the snow, and used the lawn tractor to draw them up to the house.


More apples than they know what to do with.

Dad says he got about six or more bushels from the three trees. I think that's fantastic. Dad, of course, is thrilled. Mum too, although I don't know what on earth she'll do with all that fruit.


Here's good ol' Mum. She loves her kitchen. She spends a good part of every day there. She's peeling potatoes for supper. Dad still finds her 'a peeling.

I can guarantee those apples will not go to waste. Mum will make pies and tarts and apple sauce and apple crumble and muffins. The inedible parts will go to compost. Dad will use it to help his garden grow next spring.

My parents were both raised on farms during the Great Depression. They value the good things the earth provides. For my parents, the year is divided by the seasons. Spring is the time to plant. Summer is the time of care and cultivation. Autumn brings the harvest, the reward for months of toil. Winter's white blanket covers the soil and allows the earth to rest and prepare itself for the promise of spring.

There is something quite right and proper in that, Ms J. The wisdom of the elders. I'm afraid my generation is losing it. I don't want to lose that mindset. I want to honour the earth too. Let that be my prayer then tonight.

Dear God, Help me to remember and be grateful for the bounty that comes from Mother Earth.

I love you, Mum. I love you, Dad. Good night. And thanks ... for everything.

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