Our first Ten days as Salt Spring Islanders....

Eagle soaring over boat in Ganges Harbour

Well, it seems that we’ve managed to get through the first 10 days as Islanders. We finally got our internet and phone service last Thursday, so I’m feeling a little more connected to ‘my’ world. There are so many things to do here, unfortunately we’re finding that our energy levels are about the same as they are back home, and lots of evenings we’re more prone just to stay home and vegetate than to go out and socialize. Hopefully that will pass gradually, as we get more acclimatized and get to know more people.

Ganges Harbour on one of the sunnier days we've experienced.

We actually have done a fair number of things since our arrival, I mean besides exploring restaurants and some of the local haunts, in hopes of meeting people that can teach us what we need to know. Monday night we attended a concert at the Fulford Hall where the Salt Spring Folk Club has monthly concerts. It was amazing how many people come out to support the event, being it was a Monday. Prior to the concert, people could go and have dinner at the hall. We hadn’t realized that, so ate at home first, but the food there smelled delicious!

Salt Spring Folk Club at Fulford Hall.

Connie Kaldor

This particular evening, Connie Kaldor was the entertainer, with KC Kelly as her opener. Connie has been a staple of the Canadian Folk circuit for years, entertained a full house with her engaging songs and hilarious, entertaining stories. We really enjoyed the evening, and wondered how it is that an island of only 10,000 people can have such turnout for event after event! It’s wonderful to see. It was strange for one from the prairie who has frequently ventured out to watch Valdy in concert seeing him working the sound system instead. This island is full of surprises!

Wednesday was Remembrance Day, so we attended the pancake breakfast at the Legion Hall before heading over to watch the service at Central Park. There was a great turn out for that as well. Remembrance Day can be a tough one. It was such a huge thing for Dad, from the laying of wreaths to his hours spent ensuring that the graves of all the local veterans had poppies marking them prior to the day. I knew this day would be no different. Memories, memories, memories. There hasn’t been a Remembrance Day service for so many years where Shane’s hoot didn’t pierce the two minutes silence….it was very strange to have it so quiet.

I was getting ready to go out for the service, knowing it was to be another hard event, when another of the many strange occurrences that keep happening in my life happened. We’re living a little more minimally here than at home, and with that there are less plug ins, less furniture, less of lots of stuff. My bedroom windowsill doubles as my hair dressing corner, and we’ve hung a small round mirror by the big bedroom window to do my hair at, as there are no electrical outlets in the bathroom here. I was curing my hair the morning of the 11^th, staring out the window at the water, when something else caught my eye. It looked like a perfect pink rose bud, on a tree with not even a leaf to speak of left on it. I kept staring at it, finally thinking that it was likely a plastic rose that had been stuck there earlier, that I’d neglected to notice until just that moment. As soon as my hair was done, I went out to check it out, and sure enough there was a gorgeous single rose growing off the bush that had shut all other functions down for the season long before.

The rose among the branches.

Cecil always ensured that for every special occasion, Shane had a single perfect rose to give his mother, be it Mother’s day, Valentines, a birthday..but there was no way he could orchestrate this one. Maybe I’m starting to lose it, but seeing that rose brought an instant sense of peace, that it was okay. I clipped it and brought it into the house to enjoy for the remainder of its days, it’s timing impeccable. As odd thing continue to happen, I have the time now to pay more attention, so maybe they’re things that have always been happening that I was always to distracted to notice. When things happen that leave me with a sense of wonder, I like to look up what the meaning might be by other’s standards, so I looked up roses stand for. Roses have so many symbolic meanings…love, honor, faith, beauty, balance, but in mythology, the rose is synonymous with Aphrodite, and the most common interpretation is that the rose symbolizes an immortal love or a union that will never fade - even through time or death. A pink rose symbolizes first love, innocence and healing. How appropriate…how strange.

One single rose, found budding on the bush outside my bedroom window.

Sunday afternoon we attended a play put on by the local community theatre called “Having Hope at Home”, written by David S. Craig. It was a wonderful way to put in the afternoon, and the play hit home in so many ways, buy it’s references to the many rural things that define who we are, and the desire to return to a simpler way of life. My understanding was that the playwright was originally from Saskatchewan, so that would explain lots! A quote by the playwright on the program information really struck me, at this time as we venture off trying to discover who we are and what we should be doing. It said “I’m almost certain humans are pack animals and our separation from the tribe, despite the potent freedom it provides, is causing us a great deal of anxiety. My sense is that reconciliation is the challenge of our age. The story I am longing to hear must show people creeping back from isolations towards the vulnerability of community.” It made me think of my own tribe, my pack back on the prairies. It also made me think of the work I’ve put on hold, the work of reconnecting people with disabilities to their communities. Huh….seems I’ve come a long way only to be shown what I’ve left behind.

Trincomali Channel at sunset.

The rest is gradually settling. Lots and lots of rain, but the weather remains mild. My walks are more infrequent than I’d like, as I’m not that accustomed to getting out in the rain as other’s on the island obviously are. I also don’t want to get sick yet…I’ve still got too much settling in to do, but that too will come I’m sure. After all….I did get the rubbers for it!

Not authentic Salt Spring Island...but when it's pouring rain, I don't care!

Till next time,

Lynda

www.musicwriter.ca

The Road to Salt Spring Island

View from my new office space, looking out over the Trincomali Channel.

After much preparation and anticipation, we finally arrived on Salt Spring Island at 7:45 on November 5, 2009. We managed to arrive in the rainy season, and were pelted by a downpour while waiting for the last ferry to get us across to Fulford from Swartz Bay, but as the ferry neared the harbor, the rain stopped. I opened my window, hung my head out and smelled the salty air that I so love. It was good to finally have arrived.

The road to Salt Spring has been 7 years long, windy and often rocky. After having heard about it from Westhawk friends for years, I finally got to explore it for myself the summer of 2002. From their stories, and my research, I loved it before I ever even got here, and I love it still. Maybe it’s the return to the ocean, the memories of my childhood, the peaceful, artsy nature of the place. I don’t know, I just know that when I cross the waters to this island I feel a sense of calm and being home.

Being here now is strange, and the reasons we are allowed to be doing this are still so raw. It’s only possible because of the loss suffered in March. Although this is something I’ve pictured myself doing for a long time, the pictured venture was years down the line. It was to be somewhere after Shane’s high school when he was settled into his own life, when things were worked out for him…then this could happen. When he passed away, he bumped up my departure date by several years...and please know that when he left my first thought was not to run to the coast. But when I came out in June to get away from my broken heart and all the memories that bombard me hourly at home, I realized I could actually breathe. There was a feeling of lightness and possibility in my chest that had not existed since the time Shane had died, and it really felt good to be able to just be without aching for the short period we were here.

Things fall into place strangely when your heart needs a change. We’d come out for a couple of days in June to celebrate our anniversary (we’d been married on this island 5 years earlier). I’d picked up the Driftwood newspaper to see what was happening on the island during our stay, and in flipping through, saw the ad for a house for rent, 2 bedroom, open concept, ocean view. The price was not much different than we’d have been paying in Portage la Prairie at home, and it got us to thinking. We’d always said that someday we’d explore living here on the island, trying something different, living our lives outside the box we were safe and accustomed to. We’d always said someday, and as we looked at each other, we wondered if someday had arrived after all. We said we’d take the house, because we knew if we went home to think about it, we’d talk ourselves out of it. That we’d put off our ‘someday’ for somewhere further down the line. Then things continued to fall into place from the leave of absence I required from my place of work, to selling the cattle herd at home. Even the finances took shape as I realized that that cheap little student accident plan I purchased year after year to ensure Shane’s teeth would be covered in the event of an accident turned out to have a death benefit attached. It was like Shane was saying ‘here mom, now just go and do what you need to do for a while’.

the view from the beach where I take my daily walks, collecting stones for my "Salt Spring" Candle holder. When I leave part of the island will be going home with me.

So now, here I am. It’s good to be sitting here now, writing this from my ‘corner’ of the dining area, where I’ve set up shop, with a full window view of Trincomali Channel before me. The water absolutely enthralls me as I gaze out at it’s rippling surface. Watching the birds, hearing the gulls, guessing at where the various boats and barges might be heading…wondering if all that we’ve done to make this possible, to find a way to walk through the pain just a little easier, will work out.

Point along the waterfront in Ganges...

As I sit and type I’m surrounded by my knick-knacks from home, and my big hopes for the months to come. I’m also surrounded by my memories of Shane and feel him sitting here beside me somewhere, enjoying the view from his new perspective, pushing me to keep moving forward into what I’m meant to be and do now.

Till next time,

Lynda

www.musicwriter.ca