Shelterbelt Brothers and Sisters

Shelterbelt or Windbreak

It's an amazing thing to see love happening right before your eyes.
Sam and Simmy had driven 'Sun Ray' back to the hospital on Saturday afternoon. As soon as she stepped into the room, the one visitor, 'Rock' had quickly vacated the singular chair in the room and held out his hand for her to sit there saying, "You sit here."
With just a little look 'Sun Ray' enticed 'Rock' into a big bear hug. Such a wonderful sight it was to see a sister hugging a brother... well, some would say that wasn't a correct description of this relationship, biologically. You see, 'Rock' had actually been born to 'Sun Ray's' oldest sister, 'Wished- for child.' He had been born out of wedlock, when 'Wished- for child' was only 15 years old. Biologically, he was Sun Ray's nephew. Now, Sarah, Sun Ray's mother had given birth to a child at the same time as her daughter so... Sarah had just raised both boys together and, with the rest of the brood, he was considered a brother.
In the little village where all this had happened, they were often ostracized and seen as outsiders and... currently, in the small city whose boundaries had grown and would soon engulf this little hamlet... this particular group of people were still seen as outsiders... especially if you kept wearing the traditional garb of... long black dresses down to the ankles and the black head scarves.
The song by Paul Overstreet kept running through Simmy's mind this weekend...
'There but for the grace of God go I
How without confession (compassion) can we pass them by
Oh, it could be you, it could be me, the world has cast aside
There but for grace of God go I...'

'But for the grace of God go we all.' 
The weather this weekend had been cold enough to put warm clothes on even the horses...

but the warm love of shelterbelt brothers and sisters was keeping the heart infused with love.

Easing Pain

You just can't plan for family emergencies. You just have to roll with it and do your best to meet needs as they present.
Friday afternoon,... just finishing lunch with a friend... the phone rang and it was Simmy's Mom calling from a hospital to say that Simmy's Dad was having some problems.
In less than an hour... Sam and Simmy hit the road to go help with whatever they could do... as they drove past 'The Disappointed House...,' that is what Simmy called it, inspired from the show 'Emily of New Moon...,' the new layer of snow made it look less sad and disappointed.
When they arrived at the hospital, they soothed rattled nerves, listened to the distraught women and generally just tried to offer some love and keep the huge family informed.
Friday moved seamlessly into Saturday. It was a mostly sleepless night for Simmy. Sam slept a little. When they woke up, Simmy tried something new with her Mom. The friend she'd had lunch with on Friday had a great 'reflexology' business and Simmy had learned a lot from her just by hiring her for a few foot massages. As Simmy insisted that she could do this... Sam snapped a couple of pictures, inconspicuously.

Simmy wasn't quite sure if she would be able to fix the pain but, interestingly, her Mom didn't complain about any foot pain after the massage.
So... either she just didn't want another foot massage from this rookie... Oy!... or... it really did help.
Egg salad sandwiches and apple square for lunch, egg salad sandwiches and apple square for dinner, apple square for breakfast, egg salad sandwiches and apple square for lunch...
Sometimes it's hard to tell which day it is even when you're supposed to be 'the helpers.'

Shift change allowed Sam and Simmy to head back into the city. Sometimes 'children really are a blessing from the Lord.'

Well, at least, I hope they think we are... we'll have to get some feedback on the foot massage... Oy!

Clay Pot Style

Breakfast subsisted of a homemade bun and lemon marmalade... the best Simmy had ever eaten. Deborah had made this lemon marmalade one day... on a whim... and a very good whim it had been, too.

Spring cleaning was what Simmy had spent her day doing yesterday. Opening windows and letting in fresh air, even when it's freezing cold, can be a good healthy anecdote to flu season.
Simmy thought about the upcoming season of weddings and put together a display of clay pitchers to inspire creativity.

  Snapping a couple of photos gave her the thoughts she was grasping for.
On the inside, each bride holds the same desire... to shine and be the princess for a day... one glorious day where everybody comes out to celebrate beauty.
Simmy changed the angle of the camera...

Colours, patterns, and embEllishments, of design and behaviour, were the things that set each one apart creating an individual 'clay pot style.'

Just One Ingredient

Monday moved into Tuesday and Simmy had some quiet time to reflect... on her fixation with making 'bread' these days.
'Bread is one of the most difficult baked goods to perfect," she thought to herself.
If you were a good bread maker, well,... then,... in the 'sewing circle' ladies' group you were admired. I don't just mean a nod of approval but that kind of admiration that earns you the royal crown of baking. Simmy's mother, yes, the 'parrot stew' mother, had definitely earned that crown.
http://romancedesigner.blogspot.com/2010/12/latitude-for-compromise.html
Her buns were highly esteemed by all and sundry who had the fair luck of having eaten them. 'Locka' was the word which was burned into Simmy's mind. In translation that word means 'light and airy.' Now, one must realize that this definition is combined with the experience of eating this perfect bun in the presence of the Queen of Baking and when, in that moment, she would dub the bun 'locka'... well,...
That is how I learned what a perfected bread was, is and will ever be... that sounds like a sermon. Sorry!
I have since come to have my own opinions about good bread and, Shh! Don't tell the queen!, but my definition of 'locka' is different than my mothers' definition. Oy!
But, I still don't have my own recipe down pat... or have I stumbled across the ingredient that makes all the difference?

Please don't judge the painting too harshly... my friend gave me some paints, brushes and a couple of canvases and being of the 'frugal' sort... I had to try to use them.
Anyway, while making these buns yesterday for dinner... I changed one ingredient, just one. I used a different oil than all the ones I've used in the past... and these buns are the softest, most amazingly tender buns I've ever made.
Just one ingredient change... made all the difference.   

'Woodpile' Warming Hut

Louis Riel Day... Sam and Simmy headed out to see what was happening on the river. When they got to their frozen destination, it was packed with sporty individuals.

Skating, tobogganing,... cycling?

Every sport was happening.

Nobody was in a hurry.

People walking...

People talking...

People skating...

People sipping hot chocolate...

People smiling...

People laughing...

Sam and Simmy fetched their picnic lunch and went to the uber cool warming hut that was sitting on the ice, (Assiniboine River), for everyone's enjoyment. It was a submission, in the 'Warming Huts' Art + Architecture Competition on Ice, by Noa Biran and Roy Talman.
"Let's see if it's good for our picnic lunch," Sam said.
They had heated some pea soup and put it into an old sealer and then wrapped it in a blanket to transport it from their home to The Forks.
"Is the soup still warm?" Sam asked.
"Yes, it's still good," Simmy said as she held up a bowl for Sam to fill.
She set the bowl down on the little metal ledge where the logs were burning. Then, she held up the other bowl.

When the coffee had been poured into the mason jar... Simmy picked up her bowl.
"Oh, be careful Sam, this metal ledge heated the bowl and it's quite hot on the side next to the flames. Hey, I'll just put my coffee on there to get it good and hot... handle away from the flame. Perfect!"
As they ate, people would come towards the shelter and seemed to feel like they were imposing when they saw the picnic lunch experience.
Simmy laughed when people apologized. Then she quickly invited, "Come on in! It's for everyone."
She was kind of sorry she hadn't brought a big plateful of cookies to share as person after person came to enjoy the 'warm- up shack,' as Simmy called it.

It was one of those experimental things that just needs to be put to the full test of experience. It was rather quaint that people treated them like the hut owners when they ate their pea soup lunch... almost like the 'elements of home' that they had brought with them served to imply some sort of squatter rights.
They had kept their lunch deliberately simple but it was also perfect in the choice of dishes. Styrofoam or plastic would have melted on the metal ledge but the glass and ceramic were ideal to reheat their lunch to belly- warming temperature.
One couple finished their cigarettes and the pretty woman smiled as they exited the hut and said, "Bye!" It was the kind of moment that happens when you have people into your home for dinner and then, after some mellow conversation... your guests take their leave, emotionally and physically replete.

They finished the hot steaming coffee and then left the hut so others could enjoy a little Alpine experience.
Sam picked up the picnic basket and they walked back down the frozen river path...

Simmy sighed with contentment.

Sam dodged the pink and blue ice inukshuks as he made his way across the ice.

"Ah yes, picnics are so...
romantic."

Poop Deck Winter's Day

Minus 25 degrees Celsius doesn't exactly conjure up poop deck fantasies... or is that exactly what conjures up poop deck fantasies?
Simmy and Sam and construction son had all been challenged by a flu bug the last few days. The swinging temperatures always made flu bugs easy to catch.
"Don't know why we want to catch them," Simmy tried for a little humour in the situation.
From one old book to another, Simmy was wading her way through 'Heidi.' Never having read the book, it was a bit of a surprise... probably the same way she had felt about Tom Sawyer.
"I've obviously had very idealistic thoughts about life and old literature. Wow! It's much more raw than I thought it would be. Maybe that's why I like Peterson's translation of the Bible... much more real life." 
She flipped the wire laundry basket upside down and filled the blue floral mini print pitcher, with the still feisty daisies. Generally speaking, Simmy didn't allow herself fresh flowers, in winter, until the latest ones started wilting. These hot pink ones were going for the record. She had purchased them on February 4th.
"Pretty darn good, 16 days and still perky. What else depicts summer? Hmm, a sea-grass footstool."
She rummaged around and pulled out a sea-grass basket, "You'll do!"
As she set up the little summer scene, it just didn't feel right to have the window closed, so she opened it! The fresh air billowed in moving the nautical 'chinos inspired' curtains... yes, curtains, they're not drapes.

The very chic 'made in Montreal' nautical hat made a reappearance from the Fair Weather Meadows scene set and... click!
Something still seems missing... if it really is hot... then, an umbrella... sun protection...

Simmy shifted the angle of the camera, more to exclude things in the room than as a perfectly planned shot and... Voila!
The angle made the room tilt and, immediately, Simmy felt her stomach churn. "I couldn't have planned it better. Even the floor looks like a new polished deck," she smiled happily quelling the nausea.

Crushed Grapes and Icicle Washday

The blizzard that had shut down the highways had blown through like a lion, during the night. And now, the sun was shining brightly as Simmy looked out the window.
Huge snow piles grinned their toothy snarled evidence of storm leavings. There was very little movement at all outside. It was a day off of school for most kids and it seemed many parents were taking a day off of work to accommodate that.
The lack of activity outside was probably what made that white sheet billowing in the winter crisp air stand out so prominently. In between the stuccoed houses and varying roof lines that one white flag surrender seemed ironic. It was symbolic of how Canadians feel after months of snow, snow, and more snow... and then a mid-February blizzard.
Just two days ago the sparrows had been frolicking in the bare branches, promising a chatty, energetic spring.
Simmy grabbed the laundry basket and headed outside.
"If my mother could hang cloth diapers in the winter, I can hang my tea towels."
She paused when she saw the icicles hanging off the shed roof...

"Pttth," she formed her now famous raspberry. "I'm Canadian, you don't scare me."
She plopped the laundry basket down on the path that Sam had cut with the winter scoop an hour earlier.

The bright sunshine just promised so much more than this dump of snow. As Simmy looked at the tea towel with that big cluster of grapes on it... she cheerfully breathed in the fresh air... crushed grapes make great wine... not sour grapes, just crushed ones.
"And yes, Aesop, it may seem irrational to hang laundry in the snow,... but we're creating our own fable until the sparrows reappear!"