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Since our film editor friends moved to the Okanagan to become vineyard masters, I have dreamed of picking grapes for them. (My first job as a youngster, outside the family business, was picking strawberries. Gathering food from the earth seems to be something in my blood.) Plus, there seemed to be a bit more stress floating around, and my instincts plucked at my sleeve to get back to doctor nature.
My dream came true last weekend. A perfect sunny, dry weekend in the Okanagan draped itself out for us to dive under grape leaves and discover the bulbous clusters of merlot grapes.
I was in heaven, and Peter seemed pretty happy, too. Between the four of us, we picked over a 1000 lbs of grapes before the light faded to dusk. Ahhh… good healthy tangible work.
While I was picking I never thought of anything else. Nothing. Just me and the grapes. The best meditation ever!
But, that wasn’t the end.
Nope… We were taken on a journey that would usher us into the late night of wine making.
However, we did have the odd break for wine tasting, cheese savouring, and other food making, bien sur!
The steps to wine making were new to me, so everything was an adventure. A focussed healthy physical experience.
Once all our grapes were in the building, we loaded them in the bins, passing them through a crusher. This is to help separate the grapes from their stocks. The merlots were a bit stubborn so we had some grape handling to do as well! (no feet)
Once all squished into the bin we had to leave the grapes sit for awhile.
Wine consuming, I mean tasting, time!
Later in the evening, we had to decide whether to wait until morning to siphon off the juice for a rosé, or seize the moment before bed.
After testing the colour a few times, we concluded everyone had to get off the couch and head out for the “pressing”.
Which we did. And, it was the right decision.
The juice we siphoned off will sit for 6 months before being bottled next April.
After this enriching weekend, we will never look at a grape again in the same way.
The following days, once returned to the city were calmer. And, I was clearer and able to listen to a very important bit of advice that came to me in my solitude. The muse could finally confer with me without any interference. I reevaluated a situation and made a wise decision.
Thank you to our friends for the opportunity to meditate with the grapes. (And, make some wine!)
I remember Lucille Ball had a little bit different experience with her grape crushing time in Italy! Not so meditative!
The summer has passed without a wee blog post or two from me. I have a good excuse.
It was one of those periods in life where you suffer, you grow, you pull your hair out, you cry, you pretend you’re a stand-up comic to get through moments, you rise to the challenges, you defend, you protect, you want to kill, you pack, you lug, you accept angelic help, you write (journal), you question, you are a hero, you are blamed, you are loved, you create, you be-friend, you pretend, you don’t sleep much, and….. somehow, you survive.
Now that I’m back in our humble abode, in Vancouver, I look for ways to return to me. To my life. I find I long to get rid of stuff, move us into a bigger apartment, and change my old habits. It’s a positive thing.
One very comforting activity came back to me in a reminding gift from my friend, Paula: a welcome home card with encouraging words, and a little jar of yummy homemade apricot jam.
Jam.
Oh yeah. I remember. I like making jam. I love picking fruit, and turning it into something.
So, that’s what I did.
I was fortunate to be able to catch the last of the apricots (thank you for being a delayed summer), and also gather blackberries in my neighbourhood with my friend. (free fruit is even better!) And, I “holed up” in my tiny kitchen, and happily got into jam making. Ahhh… bubble, bubble, toil, and NO trouble….
A tweet from Angela (@Tyranngosaurus) wanting to know my recipe prompted this post. So bear with me as I reveal my easy Blackberry and Apple Jam recipe for her.
4 large apples (800g), 800g of blackberries (you could use your Saskatoon berries, Angela), 1/2 cup water, 4 cups of sugar (approx.)
Peel, core, and finely chop apples. Combine apples, berries, & water in large saucepan.
Bring to boil, simmer, covered for about 30 minutes or until fruit is soft. Measure fruit mixture, allow 3/4 cup sugar to each cup of fruit mixture (I actually cut down on the sugar and it turns out fine… hate using too much of that white stuff!).
Return fruit mixture & sugar to pan, stir over heat, without boiling, until sugar is dissolved. Bring to boil, boil uncovered, without stirring, for about 15 minutes, or until jam jells when tested. Pour into hot sterilised jars; seal when cold. (I seal when hot and listen for the *pinging* of the lids closing down as they cool.) Makes about 6 cups.
Some Trilby tips (I’m not really an expert): get softish apples so they melt away with the berries. Apples are really good as a natural pectin so you don’t need to add any fake pectin. And, don’t be nervous about playing with the measurements, especially the sugar. It always seems to work out for me. And, if your jam is a bit liquid, don’t worry, it’s great on yogurt & ice cream!! That’s our specialty, even with firm jam!
Funny how a simple “back to basics” action can calm the soul. I wonder why? It doesn’t really matter, does it? We now have some good treats for our winter blues, and some special gifts for those valued people in your life.
What do you do to get back to yourself?
When I was a kid, I remember lining up my teddy bears (a very motley crew that I loved very much) on the couch, putting on a “record”, and getting my conducting stick out. The songs were simple Christmas tunes with choral singing. Away I went!
I never got quite as passionate as in the following video, but I don’t think I really wanted to be a conductor as much as the 3 year old boy’s talent reveals. His joyful actions are such a testament to true passion. I love watching his unbridled enthusiasm, right up to the end!
In case you ever need to inflame your passion, or an energetic shot in the arm, watch this! Rediscover the 3 year old in you and fall off your chair with energy!
My Dad once said, “Don’t take no for an answer.” My Mom was equally bold in her advice. It was good.
When I decided to audition for “Le Conservatoire d’Art Dramatique”, one of my French teachers rolled her eyes, and exclaimed (en Francais) that she knew French people who had tried to get in and didn’t make it. Certainly an “anglophone” had NO chance. I decided to not go near her during my preparation time, avoiding her black cloud energy. It was tough enough without her input!
So… you can imagine the delight I had when I announced to her that this “anglophone” had made it through two auditions and 2 days of observation, and was accepted. She was as they say in Quebec “bouche bée”… mouth agape!
The following post by Geoff Talbot reminds us of famous people and their (wrong) naysayers. A reminder to take opinions with a grain of salt.
Do you have a similar situation to share?
…Famous Wrong Predictions…
In the world of art & entrepreneurship be encouraged… when it comes to innovation no one really knows anything…
“Drill for oil? You mean drill into the ground to try and find oil? You’re crazy.” Opponents to Edwin L Drakes plan to drill for oil in 1849.
“We don’t like their sound, and guitar music is on the way out.” Decca Recording Co. rejecting the Beatles in 1962.
Read the rest at Seven Sentences by Geoff Talbot…
Today is Earth Day.
It strikes me strange to have an Earth Day because every day should be organically, naturally Earth Day. However, that’s what we need to do now. Name days so we don’t forget.
When I was a kid, being near nature and the earth was the essence of my being. I was fortunate to be raised in both the Rockies and the eastern Maritimes, in the country. I know what it is like to be at the summit of a Rocky Mountain, to walk barefoot in the sand, to swim in a lake and the salty ocean, to hike through ancient forests, to lay in the middle of a field in the wind. I have a respect for the expansion of the prairies, and the approaching storms. I have hiked solo through the summits, and felt the smallness of my existence. A humbling experience.
Today, I’ll give a special nod to the gifts nature has given me.
Thank you to Michael Jackson who gave his energetic passion to the voice of Nature.
“Get a mold done of my face, tomorrow? Really? We need to do that?”, I gulped. I had had this done once before and didn’t particularly enjoy it. Feeling panicky, I had to really, really concentrate so claustrophobia wouldn’t take over.
Currently, I’m starting to work on a project that entails mask work; therefore, we needed a form of my face.
I show up today, a day filled with many appointments, so the mask making wasn’t the main event, which was probably good, and tried to be nonchalant about the task at hand.
When Marlene first started to apply the wet strips to my face, I imagined I was having a special kind of spa treatment. And, really, when was the last time you let someone touch your face for twenty minutes, and then sit peacefully for 45 minutes in the dark? I found it relaxing and appreciated the rest in my crazy schedule.
During the drying period, I kind of “zenned out”, and enjoyed the break from facial expressing, and speaking. I could breathe well, and I also knew it would be over in a relatively short period.
As I drifted in and out of my quiet thoughts, an unexpected image suddenly popped into my head. I saw myself sitting across from me at the cafe where I had just been with my friend. It was as if I could suddenly see myself from another person’s point of view. I watched myself talk, and express what I had been earlier sharing, and I felt an overwhelming sense of compassion for this person, me. I had a strong sense of just wanting to hug me.
Being trapped in this mask, which was actually me, brought forth objective images I had never before experienced.
And, it felt warm and reassuring.
I think I learned something today…. under my own mask.
Today, I chose to walk to a meeting in my neighbourhood. Well.. the meeting didn’t happen but it gave me another chance to admire spring, observe new plants, buds, and blossoms poking up everywhere.
I recalled my first winter (early spring) in Vancouver when we wandered around in awe at the cherry blossoms in FEBRUARY!! Our move had been delayed as we had been completely buried in a huge snowstorm. Cherry blossoms seemed so unreal… but heavenly.
They still are 19 years later.
However, Mother Nature can be mysterious and I love checking her out, seeing what signs, and guidance she can give me. As I was passing a tree today (I have had this thought prior) I marveled at the blossoms exploding from it…without leaves. The blossoms weren’t waiting for any slowpoke leaves to get their spring springing! They were going for it, and nothing was going to stop them.
Hmm… I thought that was a really good example of not waiting for everything to be perfect. That’s it… that’s all I want to say.
On April 1st, 2011 downtown Vancouver, a big black limo stopped outside the Vancouver Library. Out came some very mysterious characters called bouffons. They roamed curiously, and discovered the area, and the humans present.
They were quiet for awhile, and then..
…they danced. And, then they invited the humans to dance, too.
On that drizzly day in Vancouver there was a big bright spot of colour, and some very big grins. My goal as the leader of this wacky project was to bring unexpected, un-distracted joy to anyone near. Life can be challenging and sometimes we just need to let go, be our bouffons, and dance.
The result ended up on a wonderful video by Michael Julian Berz, and many more grins were made because of it. For that I’m grateful.
One of the video viewers wrote this poem. Actor, Energy Practioner, (and bouffon), Tom Tassé permitted me to share it with you.
To the Buffoonery Queen of Hearts – Princes and Princesses
Genius of heart
buffoonery bandits
enlighten the world
with waves of laughter
your souls speak with
the tickle horn hidden
In your back pocket
engaging, releasing precious
hearts of the unsuspected
the wand of magic from each of
yours eyes, blessed thieves
of darkness stolen
tonight we sleep with
smiling faces
————-
Thank you, Tom…. my objective is met. If you haven’t enjoyed the video yet….. have a peek and dare to NOT smile!
March 8, 2011, International Women’s Day is also the birthday of mentor and friend, Lynn Redgrave who, sadly, left this world last year. I would like to take this opportunity to look to the skies, and wish you, dear soul, Happy Birthday, and thank you for being an outstanding female comet passing through my life.
I would also like to acknowledge some of the other women who have had an impact on my life.
Naturally, the first woman is my mother… she gave birth to me. I thank her for living healthily while pregnant with me, and saying no to Thalidomide, a drug that could have made my life quite different. Thank you for asking me, “what do you really want to do” that time in Quebec City. It was the first time I admitted out loud the desire to act. All that serendipitously occurred after was directly attributed to your encouragement. (I know it wasn’t exactly what you had hoped your daughter would do as a career… but…
) Thank you for taking me to England to see GrandDad, and sharing a massive laugh on the Tube when we weren’t sure how the transit worked! And, thank you for all my sweaters you knitted me.
They say it takes a community to raise a child. Well… I think it takes a community to make a good human being. Some of the women who were part of my community are now gone, and, some are thankfully still here:
Gerda, our next door neighbour with the great garden, in Banff. So loving, so giving, and so sad when we moved. The joy and warmth I felt when I returned always remained. And, that silver ring you bought me in Calgary is still on my finger. I think of you often.
Jill, “Auntie Jill”, also a close family friend and neighbour in Banff. You are still in my life and my heart warms when I hear your British voice on the phone. Thank you for letting me stay with you when I returned and worked at the Banff Centre. I treasure all our hikes in the Rockies, and our many giggles over shared stories, especially the “naughty” ones!
Brenda, you have been my “best friend” since we were two years old. You are still in Banff, and we see each other infrequently, but our friendship is strong. Kindred spirits… I fondly remember our camping adventure in Cavendish, PEI when we were young and spry. Those boys were afraid of swimming in the big waves, but not us! (perhaps we should have been, but..
)
Tona, an old family friend who lived right up to end with her family of animals. She was a strong, spirited lady who nobody could stop. You let us stay in your home when we were first on PEI. Your story of being on the horse in the Yukon, and feeling free, stayed with me. Maybe one day I’ll do the same.
Jackie, another family friend who has passed. We called each other “Sis”. You were my first official sister, filling the void of no siblings (even though you were a bit older than me). When I was 14 my parents flew me out to Victoria to stay with you for a month. It was an adventure, and most likely wet my appetite to return to the West. I now have my Dad’s artwork that you willed me. I just picked it up, and had a nice visit with your niece. I’m glad she’s in my life, now.
Joanie, you are also in another world. I miss your sisterly love, and talk to you often. All the times we spent growing up together! Drawing, talking, baking, you doing my hair, laughing long into the night, and our favourite activity, going to concerts by the Stampeders! Remember that night when we both met our favourite bandmembers? Wow…
Joanie’s Mum, with a capital M, is still in my life. Thank you, Bea, for your “making lemonade out of lemons” advice, and for all those Boxing Day meals with our families intermingling. Glad you were here when I first moved back to Vancouver.
Aileen!! Remember that month where you stayed with me while my parents took a trip? Thank you for letting me drive your little red Volkswagen bug over & over, so I could take my driving exam in Charlottetown before they returned. I was so excited when I got my license, despite the driver’s door almost falling off!
Phyllis, my high school buddy. Our relationship has grown over the years, and I thank you for being a sister when that’s the last thing you need since you have 14 siblings. As an “only child” I’m grateful to be adopted by you. Our playful memories harken back to our high school dances, and the hallway laughs.
Joan B., you are another sister to me, especially after you losing your real sister. Now I’m a surrogate “Auntie” to your two wonderful little sisters you brought into the world. Thank you for sharing them. Thank goodness one of us was brave enough!
Denise G., je vous remercie infiniment. Sans vous, je n’aurais pas fini le Conservatoire. Votre affection et d’encouragement et de toutes les heures supplémentaires que vous m’avez donné pendant ma première année m’a sauvé la vie! Chapeau à vous.
Kelly, you were there for me when I had my back operation. Thanks for calming me, and making me soup. And that road trip down the coast, to LA, over to Vegas, and into Death Valley and back up has become a rich memory. What fun we had!
As I write about the women in my life, I realize how lucky I have been, and how fortunate I am. The names above are just a taste of my sisterhood.
The amazing list goes on: Mel, Helena, Frederique, Silver, Margaret, Elizabeth D., Eun Joo, Sarah, Annie, Heather, Chara, Cheryl & Meg, Colleen, Elaine, Janet, Leah, Hannah, Allisa, Charlene, Jemma, Lita, Maureen, Shannon…
Today, my intention is to mark, acknowledge, remember, and contemplate the fortune I have had with each and every woman who has crossed my path for long or short periods. I have learned from all of you.
The fear of writing a post like this is that you might forget someone. If your name is not here, please know that the above is a sampling…otherwise, you are in my heart. Or call me and give me hell! (I am getting older!)
Happy International Women’s Day to all my Sisters!!
I come from an artistic family. I grew up surrounded by pottery and paintings by my father, and fibre artistic works (weaving, knitting, needlework, quilting & more) by my mother. They were always making things. Our cupboards were filled with pottery. Our floors covered with woven and hooked rugs. I wore handmade sweaters, hats, and scarves, and funky leg warmers (still have them).
Eventually we moved from Banff to Prince Edward Island where my family purchased land, built a house, and made our own shop, which resulted in me learning the world of sales early in life.
I also puttered, dabbled in my parent’s art. I would draw, make pinch pots, slab boxes, pendants, and I would help put on Mom’s warps and sand the bottoms of Dad’s pottery so it was smooth to touch. I tried knitting, but was abysmal. When it came to craft fair time, I would help load & unload the van, and watch my mother skillfully display their work. These observations served me well later in years!
My Dad taught as well. When he taught his drawing and painting classes I would sometimes sit in and partake. I would overhear some of his instruction and try to apply it. I liked it. I would get frustrated, but mostly I liked it. But I preferred drawing so I would do that more frequently by myself.
But… it’s funny.
My parents were always the artists in my mind. I wasn’t an artist. I didn’t feel I could own that title. They were very good at what they did, and I admired their singled passions.
Finally, years later, I thought I had discovered a similar passion in acting. And, yes… it most certainly is a passion but I still felt I also wanted something where I didn’t need an audience or a team. Writing, yes… a definite possibility, as I used to love doing that when I was a kid, too… And, when I show up to my blog, I am happy.
Then…
You know what?
Just last week, I dove back into the world of paint, encouraged by my painter friend, Melanie Kobayashi, and experienced a ripple of surprising excitement. Mel guided me into her studio, offered me paints, a massive piece of heavy paper, and ordered me to “load up your brush and don’t be scared!” I did what I was told, and soon was having a cathartic dance with the paint and canvas.
My inner critic showed up several times just to keep me humble and sweating. “Anyone can do that” “You’re cheating” “That’s doesn’t take talent” “Who do you think you are painting?” “Wow.. bad taste in colour”…I chased away it away many times.
SHUT UP!!
I replaced my inner expulsions to “I’m just having fun”…. And some obscene chasing off remarks, similar to “buzz off”.
I succeeded in keeping going, and not succumbing to a perfectionist attitude. It was hard work in some ways, and on the other side it was deeply satisfying. And, because of the size of the work… oh, boy.. did my thighs ache the following days. But in the best way possible!
Would you like to see it? I hesitated to post my first attempt, my first abstract purge, but, what the heck!
It’s a wild one… I decided to call it “Mel Made Me Do It”….
Funny how one seemingly unrelated creative activity can open the doors to others. Some old plans for something have re-emerged since painting but… that’s for another time.
Where do you allow yourself to play, create, and open the channels?






























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