To Be

This is a time of in betweens. In between school and work, student and employee. In between engaged and married, girlfriend and wife.

It is lovely being engaged, but most times it feels normal, even humdrum. Calling caterers, sending countless email inquiries, designing invitations...shifting, kerning, weighing. This or that. And then come moments of magic. Picking up a nondescript cardboard box from UPS and carrying it home. Carefully opening it to reveal a white garment bag inside, slipping out of my everyday clothes and into my wedding dress. A frisson of wonder ripples through me as I look in the mirror, half my mind on what I see and the other half imagining turning the corner at the back of the cathedral and seeing Tim waiting the end of that long aisle. I will be wearing this dress on that day.

And until then, I am a to-be wife. To-be sister. And hopefully, to-be employed.

Until then - I will plan, apply and enjoy the last of the fall days.

Pictured above: Ideal Bookshelf #230 (Writing) by Jane Mount. 

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P.S. How To make Creme Fraiche

1 cup (240 mL) whipping cream
1/4 cup (60 mL) buttermilk

Stir together the cream and buttermilk. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let sit at room temperature for 24 hrs. Unwrap stir and refrigerate. Will keep up to one week.

The Lucky One

Hello.

I am still here, after a long absence. From the woods to the prairies and back again.

These days, I spend my days at home. Jobless and searching for gainful employment. It is mostly nice. Nice to have time to cook and make new friends, drinking coffee in the sun. Walking along the river before winter comes. Wedding planning at a relaxed pace. Some days I feel very blah. Discouraged at the lack of response or rejections. But, mostly I know that something will come along.

Mail from Tiff & Gareth (the print of you beauties is up on fridge already), Tessa (loved the typewritten reply) and Meg (I am taking it over for Tim to read tonight, loved it!) came today. Tess also typed the following on the bottom of her letter:
"It is always the simple things that change our lives. And these things never happen when you are looking for them to happen. Life will reveal answers at the pace life wishes to do so. You feel like running but life is on a stroll. This is how God does things." -Donald Miller

I, of course, burst into tears. I can not, even now, explain exactly why, but I think the simplest answer it that it is true. It struck a deep chord and when that happens, I invariably cry. Heck, I cry at the pluck of string. Anyway, I am thankful for the mail today from three women I love dearly. I am also thankful for all the encouragement from everyone here in Saskatoon when I feel discouraged, they make those blah days so much better.

This song has been on repeat today. Have you heard it before? I don't know where I have been, but I think I will have to acquire this album. "Youth", by the band Daughter.

Talk soon,
Elizabeth

The End is Near

15 July

It has been raining since I got to our new campsite yesterday, around 5. This is the kind of weather that makes me want to book into a hotel until the sun comes out again. I rely on the cooks to let me lurk in a corner of the kitchen, soaking up the warmth of their stovetops and ovens. Last year, I would have been the cook, plenty warm while prepping and cooking. Today, I want to make soup. Today, I want to sink into a bubble bath that has steamed up all the mirrors. Today I wish for my overheated apartment. 

The season has gone by fairly quickly, though as always it seems a long time since we left home for the season. Another world, another life, that waits for us to come back to it after our summer sojourn. Can you believe that there is 4 shifts (or so) in two weeks (or so) until the season is done? I barely can. Though, I am trying not to to think about it. Anticipating the end of season too soon is a rookie mistake. 

I am planning some fun events to keep people's spirits up in this last stretch - a beer tasting followed by a talent show, perhaps planter games and of course STEAK NIGHT. I'll dig a long pit to fill with coals and we'll lay the oven racks over them to make one long grill. Steaks will be cooks to each person's taste - red and dripping or fully done. Montreal steak spice will shower and the beer will flow.

18 July

In the morning, the drive out on the Swale (a logging road) is especially beautiful. The light filters through the dust, turning it all to gold. Above, the foothills stand looking nearly as majestic as those they foreshadow. 

19 July

The first impression this camp made on me has been turned on its head. Though the mornings (6am wake) are chilly - by 9 am sunlight has summited the trees to reach the camp. It is then that I will make my way to my office in the far back corner, when I can see the sunlight glowing yellow on the tent. The days are passing slowly and quickly. It is hard not to anticipate the end (rookie move though it may be) and the relaxation and friend and family time that lays beyond our last few days of work back in PG. Soon enough. We are still here. 

See you soon,Elizabeth

Mosquito coils and G&T.

The smell of mosquito coils always transports me to our cabin at Jan Lake in northern Saskatchewan. As the years pass, I feel more and more sure that it will be a haven and getaway I will appreciate all my life.

Though transported by smell, I am physically in northern BC – I wonder what the long/lat is? Could I fly straight across two provinces to our cabin? I would sit on the deck - screened in to keep out the mosquitos. There are other things out here that remind me of our log cabin – the wooden plaques in village stores that read “our provincial bird” with a picture of an enormous mosquito; stores with laundry in the back and an assortment of cheap and random  goods – minnows, plastic shovels and buckets, balloons, fishing gear and crackers and canned beans in the front. If you're lucky, there might even be ice cream. 

Not so long ago, I was not even in the bush of northern BC. I was in the Fraser Valley/Vancouver for Tiff and Gareth's wedding. It was beautiful. I am eagerly awaiting Sharalee's pictures so I can relive it via photos - but it is not so long gone that I can't remember it all. The warmth and relaxation found at Dave and Debbie's and amongst my best girlfriends. The comfort of the familiar and missed. Days full of laughter and toasts and meeting new beau's. Days with ocean  in front of us and Abbotsford behind us. A day of celebration and beauty and only the good tears. 

G and T - it was a honor. It was a beautiful day(s) and I am so glad I could be there to be a part of it it all (and meet Maureen and Richard, seriously they are the best!) I hope you guys are settling into your new home. Love you both. 

Sophie was there.

B Freemans was there.

Tiff was definitely there. 

The rehearsal dinner was gorg. (at the Vancouver Yacht Club)

B Maids (minus me). We happy.

They (G&T) were pretty happy too.

I am squinting pretty hard in this one, but I still like it.

Just some rapping during the reception. 

Look at these two rockstars. Beauts.

Already June

Every fluctuation in the weather is noticed out here; every minute of light added or taken away observed. This year began with heat - shorts and tank tops required for the first few days - a stark contrast to the snow that greeted everyone as we emerged from tents and trailers on the first day of the season last year. As a result, the trees budded weeks before they usually do. The last two years I remember the moment, around 4am, while walking down a path through the trees, that I saw the first buds and leaves appear. The heralds of spring. This year they came before I could await their arrival.

Birds chirp at all times of day here. There is one bird I especially notice in the evening, its ribbon of sound cutting through the dusk. It reminds me of where we are. We are in no city or town. No glow of lights creates a halo above us, just the hum of generators running on gasoline. And when the generators are turned off for the night - peace, the blessed quiet. The absence of sound is a lullaby all its own. This time is my favorite time of day out here. The camp full, everyone is sleeping or falling asleep after a day well spent. This happens between 9 and 9 30pm. By 10 camp is quiet.

The sky out here is big. Big sky is where I feel most at home - either fringed by forest, or prairie. I suppose that's why I feel so at home in front of the ocean, because of the big sky holding court above it.

It already June, my beautiful Mother's birthday has passes and G&T's big day is later this week. The summer seems to be passing quickly this year. I have settled into my new role - camp paperwork hound, data entry person, safety coordinator. I like it. It is a much calmer existence than cooking. Though ultimate calm continues to elude me, I appreciate the concreteness of my job this year. The steady checking off of to do's on my list.

'Til next time,
Elizabeth

O ye.

Today, I made myself a reminiscent breakfast. Homemade hashbrowns with butter, onion, celery, paprika, oregano and basil. Lightly fried eggs, runny, with bright yellow yolks spilling into the potatoes once freed. Mayo on the side. This is a fairly time intensive breakfast, with potatoes being cut and boiled before they hit the hot pan and their vegetable accompaniment, but the time it takes is part of the luxury of this particular morning meal.

As I cut and cooked in my own kitchen, CBC on in the background, I thought about all the times I made this very breakfast in the kitchen at Atangard. Snippets of conversation and the sounds - footsteps on hardwood halls, doors opening and closing, yelled greetings and goodbyes and so much laughter - come back to me easily. But, more than that, the faces of all those breakfasts comes back. Mostly, I remember the smiles, all bathed in that yellow, windowless light, reflected off Ikea cupboards. They almost seem saintly, or at the very least, beautiful portraits in motion. Though I do not exclude myself from feelings of frustration in that same kitchen, I remember the warmth so much more; the conversations, encouragement and nourishment that I consistently found there. Time must be working its magic, because I can think about it now without feeling very sad and with more more thankfulness and joy than longing.

Into the very kitchen.

Marisa and Lisa, in "that atrium".

Tiff, Beth and Soph.

We leave for planting on Saturday. I am excited and eager for the season to begin, to see familiar faces and meet new ones. To help Tim. To learn a new job and role. To have energy for encouragement and cheer, which I struggle to find when being head cook. I am excited for it all.

Until next time,
Elizabeth

A Visit.

I flew back to Abbotsford earlier this month to conduct interviews for my research project. But, more importantly I got to hang with all the reasons it was so hard to leave the lower mainland. The combination of school and friend time made for a packed six days - but they were so lovely. It was so nice to sit with people, face to face or side by side. Talking on the phone is necessary and can be great when conducting long distance friendships, but there is nothing like bear hug/tight squeezes and eye contact.

Here are some pictures from my trip to the West Coast.

    

The ocean is still a major attraction for me, having grown up far away from one. A few of us stole away for a restful White Rock interlude the day before I came back to SK. It was a beautiful day. We walked the "boardwalk", had our first patio sesh of the season, soaked up some sun and (I) collected some rocks - indulging an impulse from childhood.

In addition to coming back to a familiar place, Atangard, I got to see a new place. A to-be familiar place. Tessa's house (a couple glimpses below)!