Fire

Trying to stay sane. Trying to find something effective to do. There are wildfires all over the province and no rain in the forecast...The smoke is surreal. Our fate depends on which way the wind blows.

All I feel capable of is taking care of myself, keeping the kids happy, making sure the gardens are well watered, and having an evacuation bag ready, just in case.

BC has declared a State of Emergency. From our windows, we can see smoke from the fire at Trozzo Creek just over the mountain ridge to our East.

And through all the smoke and strangeness, there's only one question worth asking in this terrifying moment: Do we want a future for our kids or not? And if we do, what are we going to do about it?

Yesterday afternoon I attended a Zoom meeting put on by 350 Canada. You can find the recording here.

The organizers point out that we are in a powerful moment. In Canada a federal election is expected to be called and, with extreme weather everywhere, the climate emergency is top of mind for so many of us.

The intense heat and forest fires have caused over 500 recent deaths. People are losing their homes and many are on evacuation alert. 

Decades of government inaction on climate change got us here. Not once have we reached a Paris climate target. And still, our governments are planning expansion of  fossil fuel industries, subsidized with our tax dollars. And against this backdrop, our genocidal history and abuses of aboriginal people are in our faces. Our government has failed us.

Hopefully voters have reached a tipping point. It's beyond time to put the pressure on our politicians.

On July 29th, 350 Canada is urging us to take action big or small all across Canada, and I hope you'll participate. Whether you demonstrate outside your MP's office or post to social media, it's time to let our politicians know that fossil fuel expansion must stop now. We need to get serious about a just transition to the green future we want.

In the upcoming federal election, please pledge to vote for authentic climate champions. Not the ones who say the right words while they buy pipelines, give the fossil fuel industry billions of our tax dollars, and fight the regulation of our logging industry. Not the ones who missed every Paris climate target. Or the ones who can't even agree that climate change is real. 

We're all in this together. If we're concerned about the future the kids in our lives will inherit, it's time to act. It doesn't matter what we do for a living, we've all participated in the mess we've created. We also haven't had much of a choice. When the fossil fuel industry pumps the media full of misinformation and lobbies our politicians, the reality they paint for us is a lot different from what we have on the ground.

In honour of a better future, I'm going to take action and I'm going to vote for climate champions. I hope you will too.

Waiting for the Sun to Shine

 Right now is a hard time for me. I've always found late March difficult. I'm sick of endless winter, and having to wear turtle necks, heavy socks, sweaters, and my frumpy housecoat. Seeing clumps of dirty snow has me craving Spring's sweet arrival. 

Meanwhile, the family is settling in. We're establishing routines, and sorting things out together. And because of my son's enthusiasm and tenacity, we now have Starlink in its beta stage, so that's upped our online experience in a big way.

Renovations have begun: electrical upgrade, plumbing, insulation, some new windows, a heat pump, much of this eligible for generous rebates. I've also splurged on a bathroom upgrade, complete with a bathtub where I will relax at the end of each day. 

But at this moment my place is a train wreck: walls torn out, tools everywhere, bathroom stuff all over the place -- not to mention my ever dwindling bank account. And sharing a bathroom with a family of four.

And the boxes! Some dear friends from Victoria will soon be moving here. How is it that renovictions are allowed during a pandemic? They've already sent their stuff, and boxes of it fill my living area. They take up a lot of room, but remind me that our friends will soon be on their way! 

I'm yearning for their company. Since Keith and I parted ways, it hurts. It's like having a wounded animal inside. It was for the best, but I feel badly that he's lost his COVID bubble. We phone each other sometimes to check in, and give each other moral support. At least it wasn't cruel and ugly.

Spring, just around the corner, is a promise of better things to come: warmer weather, growing a food forest, seeing the plants that volunteer, renovations completed, friends arriving, and hopefully a sunnier outlook. 

But right now is the time of slogging through the groundwork, and building the foundation for the comfort and beauty of what is to come.

Underneath it all, I'm grateful. For my family, for getting to be part of my grandkids' lives, for our dog and cat, and for our luck at finding amazing trades people to fix up our house. The walk into town is lovely, and the local grocery store sells organic produce and lots of other great stuff. And what could be better than sharing this experience with my family and friends?

I'm grateful for the spectacular beauty of this land, and am aware that it is on traditional Sinixt territory. By being good stewards, by giving this land our love and respect, and by restoring it with others, will we help to address the debt we owe to those who were dispossessed of their land and way of life? I wish I knew what to do.

We bought this property from a Doukhobor family. Doukhobors are known for their commitment to peace and hard work among other things. Can we fit in and be worthy neighbours? 

What does this land ask of us? Will we listen? I hope that we're able to find right relationship with each other, our neighbours, our community, and the land that sustains us. What a privilege it is to try.

In these crazy times, I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be.

Held

 It's been close to a month now that my one bedroom suite has been home to my son and his family, which has now expanded to four.

My grandson was born before his mid-November due date, and he and his Mom are both healthy and strong.

We recently took possession of our new home in Winlaw.

Both of our houses have sold, and I have until at least Winter Solstice to move out of my old place, which will make packing and cleaning much more leisurely. And we'll all have a place to stay in Nelson until then.

It's felt like we've been living in a combination fish bowl pressure cooker. Think small one bedroom, one bathroom, four adults, a precocious four year old and a newborn. Earlier this year I painted all the rooms in the house after thirteen years of not having either time or money. And I'm a neat freak. 

Despite this, we've felt held and supported by our community. I've stayed at Keith's at night in case my son and granddaughter need the extra bed where I had been sleeping. It also gave us some quiet time. And he's been helping me move my things to the new house, and cooking meals while I clean and pack.

We've been treated with kindness and professionalism by my realtor, the woman who sold us the property, trades people, the credit union and our lawyer's office. I've also had the support of the City of Nelson's EcoSave program co-ordinator who has been generous with her expertise and time in helping me navigate the programs in place that will help us to green and upgrade the house we bought. I'll blog about these in more detail later.

As a family we want to garden and to grow berries and fruit trees, and make our house beautiful and energy efficient. And it couldn't be a better time to green our home. There is so much support right now for this from the City, and the provincial and federal governments.

Spending time in our home in Winlaw is like entering a different, much slower time zone. Trees, wild turkeys, kids and pets ground me and set the pace.

The neighbours we've met are lovely people. They let us know where to get firewood, and how the water systems work, among other things.

When I go into town to clean and pack my old house, I can tune in to the weekly satsang at the Ashram where I used to work. Like many others, I had to leave my job due to the pandemic. It's so nice to see old friends and sing along.

Even though I'm slogging through a big move, I'm grateful for how held I feel. 

Intergenerational

It started with my son's epiphany. 

Aldo lives in Whitehorse -- the frozen north -- and has been studying Emergency Management. When COVID-19 hit the news he watched closely, thinking "This is going to be big!" 

As Canadian government officials advised people to leave the personal protective equipment for hospital staff only, Aldo had a crisis of faith. 

How are we going to protect ourselves? What's going to happen to supply chains? What about the short growing season up here in the Yukon? 

What were he and his family doing with their lives anyways?

When I got the call: "Mom, what if we all bought property in the Kootenays together? We could all grow a garden and fruit trees, and you could be part of our kids' lives."

Bingo! I'd just won the grandparent jackpot. "For sure! Let's do it!" 

That was a few months ago. We've never looked back. 

Houses for sale, hiccups, and an offer on a house with a suite on 4 1/2 acres in Winlaw. 

They need one more assessment before all conditions are off the sale of their place. My 110 year old house has a few issues, but is beautiful, structurally sound, is a ten minute walk from Nelson, and the neighbours are lovely. Viewings, offers -- nothing settled yet.

Aldo, his wife who is due to have a baby next month, and their four year old daughter, along with their dog and cat will be here on Tuesday. It's Friday today.

It's raining outside and I'm soaking in the quiet. I'm getting as much packed away as I can before sharing my small, one bedroom home. We plan to move to Winlaw in November, after the baby's born.

Aldo and I have some long time family friends who may move in with us in the Spring. We've all talked about intentional community over the years, but this sneaked up on us.

Keith has offered to let me stay at his place sometimes while Aldo and his family are here. He and I spend a lot of time here at my place these days. It's where we eat most of our meals and play crib. 

He's not sure what he'll do when I move. Bring the canoes over to the property, maybe build a workshop, stay sometimes, see if he's comfortable...

We've been together close to two years but haven't yet reached the point where we wanted to move in together. This new plan has been a bit of a shock for him. My decisiveness freaks him out.

My future housemates and I all know each other well. Keith not so much. What would he be getting himself into?

All of us are interested in gardening, rural living, making the house more environmentally friendly, and getting to know the neighbours. And giving each other lots of moral support. 

Soon the adventure begins. It's a big change for all of us, and our nerves are frayed. But we're doing our best to communicate well, and to be kind. So far, so good. 

In the meantime, I'll try to get a good night's sleep. I'll keep you posted.

The pictures throughout this post are of the interior of my house in Nelson, BC.