Places I Remember

There are places I remember All my life though some have changed Some forever, not for better Some have gone and some remain...The Beatles

There are many places I have lived throughout my life, and I remember them all...the good, the bad and the ugly. There is a balance, on looking back...life's balance.

I was born in Hamburg, and I lived in an apartment block. There are disjointed memories of Germany. I was very young. I treasure those memories...when we emigrated I lost my grandparents. And those youthful recollections were to be the only thing I would have of them. But I remember my Opa's garden...a veritable haven for a young child.

My family moved to Canada, to a home I would live in throughout my youth. This home, a long way in the country from any city, would teach me to love solitude, although I didn't realize it when I was an angst-ridden teenager, one who thought she needed friends and activities much more than time alone.

And yet, I couldn't wait to take the school bus home, so that I could take my dog for a long walk through Fields and Forests, loving the days when Wind blew. I would work out many problems on those solitary walks, with my dog listening and passing no judgement.

By the time I moved to my own home, as opposed to my family's, I had already learned to love gardens and Plants, I spoke to Trees...and I discovered I craved solitude. By this time, I was living amongst my friends, living in a large City where activities were never-ending, and where time alone, with Nature as my only companion, was scarce.

I married and moved to Penticton, a city in the interior of BC. It was lovely there...my first husband and I lived in a house in the middle of an Orchard. For years thereafter, I could not buy fruit in the grocery store. The fruit fresh from the Tree tasted like ambrosia, compared to the cardboard offerings, all glitzy and pristine looking, in the stores.

The solitude was there; I was still very young, however, and even if I remembered in the midst of a crowd how I loved to be alone, I still thought I hankered for friends and activities...I still thought I was missing out. We moved back to the Coast, back to Ocean and misty weather.

But I learned I loved fresh fruits and vegetables; I learned, as well, that gardens take work...they don't just happen.

My first husband and I moved to a series of different, forgettable homes, with the exception of life's events that occurred at each...Heidi, at the age of two, falling from the deck two stories above the ground, narrowly missing a sawed off Tree spike, but coming through unscathed, is a memory that still has the power to grind my Heart to a stop.

My first husband and I were youngsters playing at adulthood. We were both seeking the security we had felt at home with our parents. Our first purchase of a house reflected this; the home on Glenside kept us together for five years longer, as we searched for the ever elusive safety net.

She was an older lady, situated at a Crossroad. I planted a garden there, I placed the roots as deeply as I could. For a long while, I wondered. Could I have planted them deeper...could I have helped the garden flourish just a bit more...?

But the marriage ended there, at the Crossroad. And I learned that houses take work, to keep them together and in good shape.

My second husband and I built a home I thought I would be in forever. I loved it; I knew where each stick of wood had been placed. She became, as she grew into a formidable Tudor style home, a part of my soul, and for a long time, after we left her, that part stayed with her.

I planted Hawthorn Trees along the drive, and a huge Wisteria clambered up to the roof, showering a purple haze down the front of Our Lady. There were huge, old Fir Trees in the backyard, and I made paths throughout our Forest, planting violets and bulbs here and there.

Many memories here with Our Lady...it is where the children grew into teens. It is where huge crowds of kids congregated, with Our Lady large enough to embrace them all. Where she witnessed many events by teens who push the adult limit... and where she kept their secrets, all to herself.

During the last years of high school for the girls, we moved once again, very unwillingly this time. My ex-husband gave many good reasons for moving; unarguable reasons. We had horses, which were boarded out. He wanted property.

I learned, no matter how much I loved something, nothing is forever...

We bought almost three acres, about 15 minutes from the town centre. This house, I thought, this house would be my home, my base. I would make it into that, even if there were no signs this house could be this way.

And because I could not take the house apart, I covered the beginning rot with cosmetic applications, and when I could do no more...I concentrated on the garden.

This garden would become the epitome of my dreams, I thought then. I would see the Trees grow to fruition, I would know each and every piece of vegetation growing there, very intimately.

Graduations and weddings and births and deaths were to be experienced here. Recovery from alcohol was due, in large part, to the Secret Forest and the strength I gathered there, from the old Fir and Hemlock and Cedar Trees. This old house we made into a very pretty home and the property she stood on witnessed so many tears, fears...and joys, as well...over the twenty years I lived there.

The most stable...and unstable...twenty years of my life. Where was the elusive security I so desperately hankered for? And what was it?

That security wasn't here, in this old home, I learned. Separations and the subsequent Divorce had me living alone, nurtured by the caring arms of the Trees and garden for three years.

And the garden taught me where that security I searched for really was.

It became obvious to all but me that I could not keep up a sagging Lady and three acres of Land, on my own. It took three years before I worked off the many emotions and tides of anger that constantly threatened to flood me, to overwhelm any seeds of mental well-being which might be taking root.

Three years of solitude, gardening and upkeep...I learned reality is much different for a woman living alone...but I did it! And when it became routine and mundane, when the adrenaline slowed and a glimpse of peace was dawning...I met Graham.

Again, I moved...a more mature and balanced woman, yet one just beginning her journey, had I but known it.

I built a garden here, to show off our Gracious Lady. And I planted these roots very deeply, adding mulch, watching for signs of distress. Then dealing with any problems the minute they arise.

We have lived here five and one-half years, and during that time the garden has flourished...so much so, a neighbour called it a "mature" garden. With the exception of Grandfather Tree, my mentor, it is a young garden showing off its bones...if I look hard enough, I can see the maturity happening, right before my eyes.

And now, it is enough to know I have created it. I have added beauty and Trees where there were none. I have shown what is inside myself, with this garden.

Again, I will leave it. The serenity of this Gracious Lady, who is situated on a Crossroad, has instilled in me a peaceful, loving acceptance of life and where it leads.

A new place to remember is waiting just over the horizon.

I wonder...what will I learn in this new garden?

" All these places have their moments With lovers and friends I still can recall Some are dead and some are living In my life I've loved them all"...The Beatles

First Impressions

For my first visit to Williams Lake, we drove. Our vehicle was new; we bought it only a few days before we left. It is sure footed in the Ice and Snow, and it does everything except make my morning coffee...

But new vehicles have small bugs that must be identified and fixed. We did not have time to find these inconsistencies before we left. But one problem became annoying and somewhat dangerous...the windshield washer gave up the ghost half way to our destination.

On snowy, muddy, salt-encrusted highways, a clean windshield cannot stay that way for long. We found our water bottles came in handy to wash the sprayed Mud and Ice and Snow from the glass, although this only worked until the next huge semi-trailer passed by.

Nothing could take away the beauty of the Snow-covered landscape, however. This was not coastal Snow...these flakes kept their individuality, even as they lay on the ground. After we stopped for the night, I went for a walk...it felt as if I was walking on a blanket of Stars, that winked and blinked at me, telling me their gleeful secrets.

Then I remembered I had forgotten my camera! Both cameras were sitting on the table...back in Qualicum Beach. It was very difficult to accept my ineptitude in leaving them behind. So many photo opportunities were lost; and yet, in the end, I discovered I would have had little time to take photos. Time was distinctly accelerated on this trip, and the impressions made would have to stay in the camera of my mind.

As an individual who has lived on the coast for most of my life, I was enthralled with this Snow that clung to Trees and other vegetation, long after the last Snow Storm had passed through the area. Vast fields of untouched white, with Cattle dotted here and there, gave me the urge to place my footprint here.

It was cold. The temperature lowered the further North we drove, and yet...this was a different cold. Temperatures of -9C on the Coast, with the biting Ocean Wind, would have me diving for the best spot in front of the fireplace. Here, with Sun's smile beckoning, the temperature felt crisp, to be sure...but it also gave energy. The kind of energy where outdoor activities no longer felt scurrilous, a thing to be avoided. Rather, this kind of energy called me to come and see...

Coming from the South, the first glimpse I had of Williams Lake was a sea of White. Even the roads were packed with Snow, making distinctions between the Lake and the City difficult, from my vantage point. It was my first introduction to Snowmobiles racing on the Lake, leaving tracks that were quickly covered over by blowing Snow.

The Sun glittered, calling inhabitants of this Northern Cariboo City to come and play, to take advantage of the Lakes and Rivers and vast Fields and Trails that dot the area.

As we drove down into the Williams Lake valley, I was absolutely astounded by the enormous activity. It seemed as if the whole day was involved in a constant rush hour, it seemed as if everyone that lived there was outside, shopping, window-gazing, going about important business. Restaurants are filled to overflowing; finding a table at lunchtime is next to impossible.

In the middle of Winter, this City carries on. The cold condition of the weather in Williams Lake is ignored.

We checked in to the Fraser Inn, currently being renovated. I soon learned that the entries to all businesses, Hotels and restaurants are sloppy and wet...Snow melting off shoes and boots create puddles and mats become waterlogged. Even the finest entry to the best building falls victim to the melting Snow.

I learned, as well, that Snow falls during the Night, very often, making the sludgy, muddy Roads pristine once again, until the inevitable daytime activities once more turn them into ridged, softened, dirty runnels.

We made an appointment for the next day with a Realtor; with a map of the City we set off, once more, to see what there was for sale, what areas we wanted to be situated in. We wanted country property, so we headed off...to Fox Mountain, Esler/Dog Creek and others.

None of these roads were ploughed. Most were hard-packed Snow; it was difficult to tell where the ditches were on these roads. Thankfully, our vehicle pulled through, dirty windshield and all.

The City of Williams Lake is centred in a valley, with the Lake at its middle. It is a relatively narrow valley, and property outside of the city is situated on the mountainous terrain that surrounds it.

And the higher one goes, the colder it gets, making for a very short growing season, a thing I did not realize and a thing that is important to me. The views of the City are stupendous, from some of the places I saw. But am I ready to exchange a view, as beautiful as it may be, for the shorter growing season?

There is another consideration, in moving to a country property...and that is many of the properties have sewage lagoons, a thing I had never heard about before this trip. This took me aback; this is entirely new to me. A sewage lagoon. The questions I asked were met with gentle smiles and some bewilderment...why was I concerned about this?

Sewage lagoons will require much research on my part, before I could consider buying property with one. Here, on the Coast, if the soil will not perk, there are other ways around the problem and these ways have not transferred North, as yet.

And many of the ideas and creativity involved in building here on the Coast have also not travelled North. Green ideas, conservation and taking care of the environment seems to be a little less in the forefront. In some ways, I felt as if we had travelled to a different country entirely...one a little back in time.

Most houses here are not meant for two people...most have a minimum of four bedrooms, full basements...every house is really large. Heating with wood is very common, especially after the Pine Beetle left many groves of dead Trees. The Trees are Pine and not conducive for building, but some newer houses use the dead wood for planked ceilings and walls and furniture, a very attractive alternative to burning. Pine Deadwood has a silvery, marred beauty that speaks to me of history I do not intuitively understand, as yet.

Landfills can no longer accept the dead wood; there is too much of it. In time, other uses for the wood will proliferate, and there is an eventual end to the Deadwood. The pine beetle has moved on.

This trip turned into a fact-finding mission. What was I truly facing, beyond the romance of the Northern country? What was mundane life like, here in the Heartland, far away from the sophistication of the western shores? What challenges or opportunities awaited me here? And how would I find the best way to deal with them?

I found a butcher shop, selling cuts of Beef and Buffalo only found in the finest restaurants, which also sells the same brand of Goat Milk I buy. I found two large grocery stores and countless other smaller ones. I found another butcher shop, that sells nothing but Pork products. I found organic vegetables are delivered in the Summer growing period, from a local farmer.

I find a branch of the Thompson Rivers University. I find many beautifully kept schools, with large playing fields and well-thought out designs. I find a zest for life here, beyond the outward look, beyond the fashionable designs of the West Coast.

And I find I do not hurt in this climate...arthritic knees and shoulders and feet and hips all felt much more limber, in this dry cold.

People are open-hearted here, true and honest. Friendliness is a given and nurturing goes beyond the necessary...Graham is suffering with the most dreadful cough and a waitress in a restaurant, with high solace, asked him if he wouldn't like some honey in his tea, wrapping him with care.

Our life is turned inside out, for awhile. Everyday events will change, each hour bringing a new idea or thought. It is exhausting and exhilarating.

Williams Lake awaits us...a City built by cowboys, loggers and miners. Adventurers all, their Spirit still imbues the City with a palpable energy.

What will this energy teach me?