Meaning: we are well on the downhill side of our time in the city by February 14. Meaning: we can start looking forward to going home, Spring and having fun!
But we’ll be without Meg. That will be weird. Fid is finding the whole thing confusing. On walks, he sometimes tends to hold back and look over his shoulder wondering where she is. We just wait until he ‘gets it’ again and we then trundle off. Weird.
We are still pretty active down here, tho. Visiting, shopping, writing up documents, having meetings, learning to zen-drive again (being somewhat unconscious while driving so as to NOT be driven mad by the delays and overall waste of time that city transit is). It is all good. Kinda. In a Borg-ville kinda way.
As they say, resistance is futile. We are undergoing assimilation.
But they won’t get us. We can see the light. We will escape. Freedom is just another word for getting out of the city and we are already eyeing the chains that currently bind us. We’ll be OK.
Not so some of my friends. Some are as good as anchored forever.
As readers know, I have a friend with a terminal disease. Like Lou Gherig’s, it is a wasting away-thing. And it has had it’s way with him for over five years. It is beyond comprehension how horrible this thing is. He is, as they say, courageously battling it but….in such cases courage doesn’t really count. The disease always wins. So, it is hard. Very hard. Being anchored doesn’t begin to describe this kind of thing.
Other friends are doing fine but, of course, having to face their challenges from just getting older to dealing with illness and frailty as well. Some are just having to work longer than they wanted and still others are feeling the demands of still-dependent children or even more dependent elderly parents. No question – life is a challenge and some of those challenges are pretty hard.
And make no mistake – it is all age related. The challenges being encountered are not new. People throughout time have had to face them. This world has a myriad of obstacles to overcome but there is not one where time or aging or untimeliness is not a factor. Time, it seems, affects everything.
We, of course, are not without some challenges. No one gets a free ride. But, in all honesty, it seems like we are having a pretty good time of things and we are extremely grateful for what we have. We are very, very fortunate.
Think: little piglets at a buffet.
Having said all that, we are even more happy when we are home and I don’t think that is because most people are happier at home. I think it is that and a bit more. The bit more is that our home is so wonderfully enriched by nature and all that it includes. Yes, that lifestyle involves more physical work and some logistical difficulties but, when you can still navigate those waters, such effort makes everything better. You know?
And, of course, time will eventually affect our ability to navigate. We know that. But, until then, we are happy and going to remain so. Squeal…………
The countdown from Valentine’s day continues……………
Our Off the Grid Home 
Very philosophical and ruminative.
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MW…that you? I kinda know my readers fairly well and can’t quite attribute the word ‘ruminative’ to any of them. They know language but ‘ruminative’ is not a common go-to word for them. Well, there’s H&S and they have cows…..they know ruminants…..so maybe this comment came from them? And S&D are librarians…………hmmmmmm?
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‘Ruminative’ “meditate on, muse on, mull over, ponder on/over, deliberate about/on, chew on, puzzle over. Your latest blog is challenging.
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Thanks. The answer is really pretty simple. Get old and die! The complication is in the process……………and that is an ironic one: as we try to figure out the process, it is carrying on despite us.
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A poignant piece.
Yes, It is all about age, and how profoundly it limits our choices. Somehow age has caught me off guard.
Our little hobby farm is at the edge of our community, and on the door step of Okanagan wilderness. We share our world with formidable, and sometimes scary animals. Our roots are deep here. Our relationship with the natural world sustains us in most things, and I am beginning to anticipate the inevitable loss of this. It’s easier not to face. To live in town would be to die a little.
For the moment I am it, strongest amongst the walking wounded, I look to other women who hold the fort down in the bush, and under far harsher conditions, for inspiration, and at times, courage. My partner, who was once a master of most things is teaching me that which I was never interested in, at times it is satisfying to accomplish a foreign task, at others, frustrating to do something he could have done in a few moments.
I am forcing myself to down-size my hillside gardens. No more garlic, no potatoes. More planters so I’m not fighting the slugs that slide their way up from the creek to slime and munch their way through my celery, lettuce etc.
My challenge is hauling firewood in a wheelbarrow, gravity is my friend when wheeling a pile of wood that weighs as much as me, down the hill. The other is making sure our assorted rescued creatures have warmth and fluid water when the temperatures plunge. Going out to check on them at night is now my job, my head filled with the spectres of things that hunt at night, and more recently in the day!
We have a lot of old timers who have remained on their places around here, and they do with the help of family and neighbours. You have to be willing to ask for help, or be willing to pay for it, something I will have to learn.
I can’t wait to read the story of your homecoming. Meg will be with you where ever you go.
Perhaps we need to think about organizing rural/off the grid old folks communities…
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Rural co-help communities is something we have often talked about…not little towns so much as little enclaves, little clusters, little neighbourhoods where the people can help one another out now and again…or at least do a few things together. But, for many men, cooperation is difficult. The have been programmed to ‘go it alone’ and be independent. Ego still rules most of the time. I should know – guilty as charged. Even a mediator such as myself has little patience for the goofy, grouchy, cantankerous old bull who thinks he knows best. Since I really know best, it is really irritating! Actually, it is not so much about ego and knowing how to do stuff. It is more about style and manners. Men seem to rub each other the wrong way.
But the women can do it. Sal has bookclub and they have discussed the inevitable (all the old guys dying off) and how they might share a big house or something. It is a concept that we have all thought about but we have not quite achieved the first step.
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Really like your posts David despite rarely commenting!! So sorry to hear about Meganl! My heart breaks for you both. I’m sure the loss will ease in time but the memories will always be sweet. Hope to see yous guys before you leave the big smoke. I’ve got some minor vehicle issues to resolve before I can set a date to come over. Love you Big!! cheers, susann
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Looking forward to it. T&J, too….wine….stories….should be good.
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