Dance in the Light of the Full Moon

March 14 was the night of the full moon (blood moon), the day before a friend's birthday, and also the last day of March Break. We took the grandkids to the church and held a dance just for the fun of it. About 21 people attended, and someone kindly played the role of DJ, taking requests. We got to test out our Bluetooth speaker (very good), eat some snacks (also very good), and bust out our dance moves (mine not so good), and it was just a fun time. All the kids especially enjoyed it, having room to run and do cartwheels after a winter of being cramped indoors.

I'm happy to know that the hard work and expense is starting to pay off, and now we have a space where we can host events and enjoy people's company. It feels good to use the place and not just fuss over it!

I forgot how small towns work

I spent my childhood in a smallish town in a close-knit neighbourhood. Everyone knew everyone, a lot of us were related, and we were quite involved in each other's lives. But I've spent the past 34+ years in a large city. I know a couple of my neighbours there, and we do things for each other from time to time, including shovelling snow. It's just what people do in a cold climate. But I've learned it's done on a much larger scale here in Warwick.

About 8 inches of very heavy, wet snow fell last night. I was one of the first out and spent close to three hours shovelling. Also did one neighbour's porch, and another neighbour's driveway. I was just finishing when a couple of people with powerful, tractor-pulled snowblowers appeared and started working their way down the street, plowing out everyone's driveways in minutes, including widening my own. So my work was for naught, but I've learned how it all goes now, for next time. And I've met a new neighbour from around the corner.

I've also had a couple of friends over for lunch and a chat this week, which I never do at home. Like, ever. But here it feels natural and normal and fun.

I'd kind of forgotten what it felt like to be part of a community. But slowly I'm integrating into this one.

p.s. If anyone is looking for something to do while they're snowed in, I'm giving out free books at the church. Walk on in and help yourselves!

Snuggling Down for the Winter

Snow and freezing cold. Sheer ice on the sidewalks. Little fake woodstove heater glowing cozily. Hudson Bay blanket. A Preston & Child novel. A container of pretzel sticks and a hot mug of Inka. Dog sleeping with his head on my leg. Looking forward to a couple of weeks of writing. It doesn't get better than this.

Sign the Pledge, Stand up for Canada

MP Charlie Angus is circulating a pledge for Canadians to sign showing support for our core values. Please read and consider signing if you agree.

 Pledge for Canada | Engagement pour le Canada

Where I've Been

Sorry I haven't posted for a while. I've been snowed under (sort of literally) with writing deadlines and medical appointments, but I've resurfaced now. I have noticed the light is returning, and I actually saw buds on the maple trees, so there's hope of spring at some point.

It's always in February-March that the gardening bug hits me hard, and I start pawing through seed catalogues and drawing up diagrams of what I'll plant in the garden. We have a lovely big space to the side of the church where I wanted to put a jillion raised beds, but the septic system took up most of the area, so now I have to rethink and figure out what's safe to grow there. And then I have to talk myself out of doing any of it, anyway, because there's still a ton of work to do indoors, and there simply isn't time to do both. Maybe if I do a blitz for the next month or so, I can get things indoors to a point where I can focus energy elsewhere...but I'm not holding my breath. I'm finding it's the little things---the trim, the doorframes, the flooring, the cupboards and shelving---that take the most time.

Snow! And some important messages for 2025

Yesterday was relatively mild and clear, so the hubby and I took a walk around Rattray Marsh for an hour, breathing in the chilly air and gazing "out to sea" over Lake Ontario and greeting everyone's dogs as they passed. I'm glad we got that last walk in, because this morning it's snowing horizontally, big fluffy flakes, with no sign of letting up. The delicious feeling of knowing you have nowhere you have to go and nothing you have to do. I'll likely spend today writing and playing mah jhong.

This morning I watched two YouTube videos made by courageous women that I think were a good, strong way to start off the new year, and I thought I'd share them here. My newly-met friend Erin Pocock talks about trying new, hard things and letting failure strengthen you. Beautiful Unschool Life And PoliticsGirl talks about keeping hold of who you are and what you believe in when facing challenges. PoliticsGirl

I think we'll need both of these concepts in 2025. It's going to be a hard year for a lot of people, we're going to be asked to do hard things we may not know how to do yet, and we'll need to cling to our values and our supportive community to get through it. We'll also need to believe in ourselves and our ability to do impossible things.

Sorting and Downsizing

I never thought the day would come when I'd actually admit I might maybe just kind of am beginning to think about considering downsizing the number of books I have. My collection is split into two. The first part is the happy-to-give-away books in the downstairs Book Nook, which is to serve as a local book exchange. The idea is that once we are living here full time, I'll just keep the doors open and people can come in to browse for a book or to drop unwanted books off. I've provided a couple of chairs and will set up a snack bar, and maybe people will linger for a chat or just settle down to read undisturbed, which would be a happy thing. Kind neighbours have donated most of these books, or I've found them cheap at Value Village or library sales. From time to time, I donate a load to the thrift shop if I find they're not moving.

But the second part of my collection... These are my babies. The carefully curated collection of homesteading, gardening, how-to, history, mystery, and biography books I've lovingly brought together over many years. These are books I've read and re-read and will continue to re-read, like conversing with an old friend or eating a favourite meal. Some are long out of print. Some were written by people I've met and admire. Some are beloved stories from my childhood. I have some at home in the city and have been steadily moving some up to the church. Boxes of them. Plastic totes of them. Shelves of them. And as I've hauled them up to the balcony, I've found myself thinking lately, "Good grief, are ALL of these favourites?" Well...yes. Do I want to part with any of them? No. Will I read them again in the future? Yes. Am I in danger of exceeding the weight bearing capacity of the balcony? Maybe?

Sometimes it's necessary to limit yourself even regarding good and desirable things. Water is healthy for you unless you get too much of it, and then it can drown you. I'm fairly minimalist in all other areas of my life. I own two pairs of shoes. I have about five outfits I just recycle. I have few knicknacks, all of them heirlooms and meaningful pieces. All of my make-up fits in a sandwich baggie. I can and have lived out of one small suitcase for three months. I can and have moved house in a few hours. I could get dressed and cook a meal with my eyes closed, because I know exactly where everything is. Except the books... Why is it that this one area of my life is overflowing?

More to the point, how can a thousand books all be my "favourite"? 

But if I do decide---and it's a big if---to cull the books, how would I possibly choose which to keep? It's not true that you'll always be able to find old favourites at the library or online, especially the older books. What if someday I can no longer access the internet and need to look up some gardening information? When I'm an old woman in a rocking chair, won't I need all of these stories to keep me company? Hmm...

More likely I'll be an old woman walled in by stacks of Louise Penny and old seed catalogues, and they'll have to dig me out with a backhoe to put me in a home. Sigh. Yeah, maybe it's time to face reality and acknowledge this is an addiction...

My name is Kristen McKendry, and I'm a bookaholic. Some days I mainline three chapters before breakfast, and I've been guilty of locking myself in the bathroom at work to finish the last bit of a book, because once I get started, I can't stop. If I run out of a book on the subway, I hang over strangers' shoulders to see what they're reading. I neglect housework and yardwork when I'm immersed in a good story. I can't pass a Friends-of-the-Library sale without stopping to browse. Only there's no such thing as browsing, because we both know I'm going to walk out of there with an Alan Bradley or a Michael Pollan. I have books hidden all over the house. I'm not a social reader; I prefer solitude, and I've skipped social outings to hide in my room and read. Sometimes what I'm reading feels more real to me than my real life.

Okay, so, maybe it's not quite that bad. Sorta. But I definitely think I need to address the issue, buckle down, and let some of the books go, before I collapse the balcony. I could probably let go of The Joy of Cheesemaking or my ancient copy of Anne of Green Gables. The Invitation to Italian (1965) or The Timetables of History that only goes up to 1990. The world atlas that still shows Rhodesia. One has to start somewhere...