Tuesday, July 26, 2011

BFFs

The tales of Saskiatoonberry and Brynana
As a kid, did you ever leave a best friend behind when your family moved away? Or perhaps you were the friend that was left behind...?

This happened to me in elementary school when my family moved from BC back to Quebec. On that day, my friend Melanie took a picture of me waving to the camera; my big smile surely meant I was oblivious to all that I'd soon be leaving behind.

More recently, I made my own decision as an adult to move my own family from Vancouver to Winnipeg. Even though that was four years ago, I can still feel that clanging in my chest. That aching feeling that there was a whole lot I was leaving behind. This time, not only my own best friend. But my child's best friend.

It's a lot to expect that small children would keep a fledging relationship alive, particularly one that was a mere 5 years young. But to my surprise, the wee girls have kept it going. A letter here, a Skype call there, interspersed with an occasional cross-country jaunt to hug and to play.

You know, they've been apart almost as long as they'd been together. My heart leaps when I recall their baby days, their toddler days, and their preschool days together. Of their untainted memories of each other. Of their unwavering proclamation of "BFFs Forever!" Of the way they ran down the hall to embrace each other, unrestrained, the first time after months apart. And finally, of their tiny voices as they bid a tearful goodbye once more. That stays with me. Always.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Cabbages and Kings

No. 2 in a series about life at The Cabbage...
"Gather 'round children! I'm going to tell you a story about a devilishly handsome, awfully good man who finds his heart-thump somewhere in the woods." There once was a man who took his responsibilities very seriously. Older than his years, he obligingly took care of the dishes, his children, the drainage and the dog. He took care of his chores, wearily, routinely, and (mostly) without complaint. Much of the time the man was exhausted.

One day his charming wife suggested a family outing to explore the countryside. They drove for a little more than an hour and suddenly there they were: smack in the middle of a wooded land! The man's eyes sparkled. They twinkled. A air of calm overtook him, and the family marveled.  For him, something had returned. Something he lost in the woods of his childhood. The same something that broke up beaver dams, trapped squirrels, led the family dog for hours through the wooded trails. The man's heart-thump had returned. His soul rejoiced!

For Jay, the heart-thump of The Cabbage is palpable. He becomes a different man, almost from the moment the car leaves our city home. His heart becomes lighter, his laughter quicker. The stillness of the morning air, the chitter-chat of birds, the whispered rustle of the birch trees: these are the things that fill his heart. Here, he is king of his land. And he, king of our hearts.

Gone Fishin'

Proclamations of love for Pop
Teaching his daughter bird calls

Lots of time for big love at The Cabbage

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Gobsmacked

No. 1 in a series on The Cabbage...

Spectacular sunsets on the 11th largest freshwater lake on Earth
I was gobsmacked when I found out Winnipeggers had such a well-entrenched lake culture. Usually, somebody mentions cottage country and well-marketed images of Ontario come to mind. But Manitoba? The prairies? 

Well, surprise! Humble little Manitoba is home to Lake Winnipeg: the 6th largest lake in Canada and 11th largest freshwater lake on Earth. Indeed, I expected to be landlocked when I moved away from the Pacific Ocean. Little did I know at the time that I'd be inheriting my very own inland ocean and eventually succumbing to the siren song of Manitoba Cottage Country.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Peer Pressure

Life can get real muddy sometimes
I have this friend. Let's call him Greg (an ingenious plan, as that is his real name). Greg may not have realized it at the time, but he gave me a reason to come on back to Olivebits. It's called peer pressure.
When I started this blog in early 2010, I had all these grand plans of regular posts, filled with beautiful, artistic, and relevant photography from my brand spankin' new digital SLR. Well, as most people (particularly those with small kids) know, life gets in the way of all purposeful intents. Piano lessons, tae kwon do lessons, drinking-too-much-red-wine-with-dinner lessons, all managed to derail my plans to empty my brain on a regular basis. Soon days became weeks. Weeks became months. Months became a year. All the while there was Greg, peering over the back fence, casually asking when the next blog post was coming. I had every excuse imaginable as to why I had abandoned my "artistic" pursuit, why life gets a little muddy sometimes, and well, damnit Greg, stop harassing me!
*Ahem*

All this to say, peer pressure is a wonderful thing. Especially for procrastinators. In a very microscopic way, Olivebits had resonated with someone other than myself. My personal proclamations of love for Winnipeg were reaching others, and well, that felt real nice. It felt like my little part of the web was touching someone else's part of the web, and suddenly this big expanse of a world felt just a little more connected.

So thanks, Greg. Thanks for the encouragement. Thanks for sharing my Peg-Love with others. Maybe you could ask them to drop me a line sometime. If even just to keep up that peer pressure. You KNOW what a slacker I can be.