Real estate.

I have ever maintained that the most difficult thing about being an adult is that you have to make decisions. Major decisions. I’ve been putting off a biggie since ... oh, about mid-2010, and I finally bit the proverbial bullet:

 

I am selling my beloved house in Middle Lake, Saskatchewan.

The second floor reading nook.

Late yesterday afternoon, after all the chewing and stewing and pro-ing and con-ing that’s been going on in mein head for the last few years, I finally decided that my life is far too complex – living in three provinces within ten months didn’t help – and I need to simplify. (By leaps and bounds).

The realtor arrives tomorrow to do an evaluation.

 

I have been purging here: yard sale, dump (where I played guitar and visited with my friend, Frank Punk ... told him I always wanted to play the dump, ha!), a load to the second-hand store, give-aways to friends.

In an upstairs crawlspace I found two boxes of books, magazines and newspapers my work has appeared in. How my perspective has changed over the decades. At one time, I worked so terribly hard at getting published, and rejoiced in all those acceptances, and treasured the publications. Today I took most of it to the recycling bin.

Curiouser and curiouser. I seem to be disassociating with things that once really mattered to me. Except music. I’m playing guitar more than ever, and tonight I had a wonderful time on the piano: just me, my favourite songs, and a glass of white wine. Okay, two glasses, truth be told.  

 
The garden here has consumed me. Painting and staining and repairing and cleaning have consumed me. It has been an unusual summer, for certain, but ah, so many visits with friends from here (Middle and area), from my writing life, and from my long ago life, too. Man, I am seriously blessed in the "friends" department.

 

 

(Elaine B. and I cruise the countryside on her "RZR" and take a beer to a friend in the field.)

 

It's terribly difficult to say goodbye to this community. Lucien Lake Regional Park is a 10-12 minute walk from my door, and I didn't get there often enough this year to swim, hike, and just plain take all that beauty in. The beach is groomed (as below) every single morning. It is really something.  

 

Middle Lake, you are Saskatchewan's best kept secret. 

 

 

Limbo Land.

It is well past midnight, past 2:00 a.m. August, and I am alone.

Boredom -- and slim pickings -- have me reading a John Grisham novel ("The Confession.") First one ever. Last one.

I have a camera now.

I have a garden in full throttle. (Well, the lettuce is in decline.)

I have no idea when I'll be returning to Edmonton.

I have fallen down the stairs (but fortunately, I have broken only a single toe.)

I have suffered an otherwordly migraine, with accompanying nausea. (The latter came upon me so quickly I had only time to turn away from my computer and vomit in the closet.)

I have been to Saskatoon to visit my son and his girlfriend and to eat a Fuddrucker's hamburger and then play semi-competitive mini-golf. (Greg won).

I have been to a winery in St. Louis, SK.

I have learned how to make a hollyhock doll.

 I have launched a book in my garden.

I have enjoyed out-of-town guests.

I have had a moderately successful yard sale. (No one bought filing cabinets or bowling shoes, size 8.)

I have written, but not enough. Two poems:

Snake Walk

                              for Logan

 

This thing in us that loves

to discover them

along the old train lane. Garters

long as your arm—

                              even longer—

baking on gravel or curlicued

in whipgrass. Son,

this is where we are truest,

closest. Soft-stepping down the line,

prey to the darting Avocets

and badger holes. Unsticking ticks

from each other’s legs

and necks. Ears tuned to

the grass blade, eyes finessing

the tell-tale stripes. We count

fifty-three today. New record.

You photograph my veiny fist

full of intact snakeskins.

Like Hydra, you say.

I will find a long flat box, mail one

to your sister in Montreal, another

to an old lover, the rest I’ll release—

sheer ribbons­­­—to the tentative village

 of wind.

 ________________________

Five Minutes

Red potatoes off the spade

and into the soup pot. (Always

no one to share the best parts.)

                 Absence makes a sound

like a bluebottle

vibrating in the night-window.

Messy bouquet on the antique table—

monkshood and heliopsis. Maybe

someone will come. Ah, but the purple

martins sing like the mad. It’s their hour.

Little to know about this one, except

often she had dirty feet

 

 

and fingernails, often she fell

down stairs

                               and broke things.

As soup goes, it’s not too bad.  Big chunks

of light on the laminate. Sometimes,

she sang, too.

_____________________________

I have had snakes in my garage and snakes in my garden.

I have painted.

I have eaten much of Greg's raspberry jam.

I have made one coconut pie and one key lime pie.

I have taken photographs of unusual things, and ordinary things, and prairie, and musuem things.

I have been exhausted.

I have laughed on occasion, but not danced.
I have been worried.
I have come to the realization that I must let some old friends go, because, oh, they have let go of me.
I have been told I've been missed.
I have some new friends.
I can grow a garden.
I truly believe in cows.
I truly believe in this man:

I have great trouble sleeping.
I think too much at the wrong times.
I have been nourished by a sermon.
Sometimes I sing my own songs to myself.
I am rarely closer to understanding, but damn, the sunsets are really something.

 



Listen, Honey: New Book of Short Stories!

 Listen, Honey!

... you are invited to the book launch for Listen, Honey

Wednesday, August 8, 7:00 PM

at Shelley and Greg’s (106 3^rd Ave, Middle Lake, SK)

“Listen, Honey is an entertaining, thoughtful, and downright sexy book.”

 

(contemporary short stories for adults, DC Books, Montreal, $20)

Shelley will read a few excerpts,

and books will be available for sale\signing.

(weather permitting, event will be in the garden ... please bring lawn chairs)

  

Sometimes It Takes A Village

Sometimes it really does take a village. If it’s time to take a break from urban chaos, slow down, get back in touch with nature, enjoy a serene yard and perhaps even grow your own food, you could be the ideal person to rent my lovely, furnished 3-bedroom home in the woodsy village of Middle Lake, Saskatchewan beginning September 1, 2012 (or late August). 

Where the heck is it? Middle Lake is 40 km directly north of the small city of Humboldt, SK, and 1.5 hours northeast of Saskatoon. It’s a pretty farming community, with gorgeous Lucien Lake about a 10 minute walk from my door. Fishing, swimming, boating, hiking ... it’s all right here. Serene woodland walks and freshwater swimming in the springfed lake await you. The village offers an old-school grocery store, a thriving K-12 school, post office, a gas station, Credit Union, a restaurant (and lakeside canteen May – September), and friendly neighbours. Five hundred folks call the village home. More restaurants, banks, stores, etc. are just down the road in Humboldt.

What about this house? It’s an artsy 1.5 storey home with a double-car garage, patio, and deck. One bedroom’s currently not furnished – it could be your office, meditation room, exercise studio, or storage area. There’s also a sunny, second floor reading nook).The large yard is surrounded in a six foot privacy fence, and the rich soil is perfect for floral and vegetable gardening. There are many perennials, loads of raspberries, rhubarb, and a Heyer 12 apple tree. It is – in large part – very easy to subsist on what you grow right here. Eat fish? You’re laughing.

So how much? Rent is $900\month plus the utilities in your own name. Security deposit is $900. Two of the bedrooms contain a double bed. Watch the sun set over the field from the antique dining room table; they don’t call this province “The Land of Living Skies” for nothing. I’m talking cinema. There’s an upright grand piano is in the front room, and the large kitchen contains a breakfast table, ample cupboards, microwave, and a dishwasher.

 Would I be right for this? Yes, if you’re one who appreciates the tranquility of a beautiful garden (and has a desire to maintain it), enjoys birds, play the piano (!), and would embrace living in a small, safe and friendly community. You should also be mature, responsible (the usual clichés), petless, strongly desire the time and space to be reflective and creative, and long for a simpler lifestyle. The home and community are idyllic for those who want to take extended time away from their “real lives” to retreat and pursue their art; professionals “from away” who may have found employment in the area; downsizing seniors, those pining for their home province; those who needs a “breather” after a major life transition; or the gainfully self-employed. Single or couples only please; the house isn’t suitable for children.

What if I want to know more? Then contact us via shelleyaleedahl@gmail.com. Minimum one year lease required, but in order to full take advantage of the self-sufficient \ money-saving lifestyle this property offers, a longer lease would be better. 

Photography by Donation.

 

I have had a camera (and have been documenting my life) since I was ten years old, and now I don't. It's a strange experience, something akin to losing one of the less-important digits: you don't need it to live, but several times a day you wish you had it.

Sea water has irreparably damaged my camera. I have no fancy cellphone-cum-camera (though I'm getting close to crossing over to the dark side). Currently I am relying completely on friends and family to supply me with photographs. It's an interesting experience. My photos and documentation are "filtered" through their experience: what they find worthy of recording. When I ask to see their photos, and request that they send me a few, I am effectively filtering again.

All this results in far fewer photos. I've now travelled to the prairies twice without my own camera. I've had numerous readings, seen scores of old friends, and family. It's the strangest thing. We had our Sunshine Coast Farewell Party \ Greg's 50th birthday party on Saturday night: no camera.

It's almost become a test: how long can I exist without a camera? Will I become one of those eccentrics who stops taking photographs all together, and only reworks her existing photographs (via printing, Photoshop, etc.)?

The snapshots -- all taken in June by other people (except on rare occasion, when I asked to take a shot -- represent this month's experience through various other lenses.


My father singing and whistling with me at my presentation in Humboldt, SK.
Dad recently went blind, so it was extra special to have him accompany me.
We also performed together at the Seniors' Centre in his hometown, Watrous, SK.

Playing guitar at Greg's class's end-of-the-year picnic,
Porpoise Bay Provincial Park



Greg and his mother, Shirley Richardson,
in Gibsons. Shirley was visiting from Victoria, BC 

It was hard to spot but easy to laugh at this deer, standing proud as punch
and munching vegetables in a garden in Langdale.
If it were my own garden, I wouldn't have found it nearly so cute.

The night of our farewell party we hosted the bald eagle show again.
Greg's tempting them with salmon.

Some of the friends who attended our Farewell\Birthday Party on Saturday night.
We have a great firepit, facing the water.

This is my dearest friend, Flo.
She was en route to the ferry and then to Las Vegas,
for a mother-son vacation. We met (ironically)
when I was on a mother-son vacation in Bali.

Greg and I in Gibsons on Father's Day.

Greg with 50 candles blown out.
On his birthday he ran 10K and did 50 push-ups (his usual).
I'm very lucky to be his sidekick.  

Greg opening cards and gifts in the solarium at our rented house on Stalashen Drive.

And that, friends, is almost the end of the story of our time on the Sunshine Coast. The packing and cleaning have begun, the post office has been notified, and on June 26th our cars convoy back down the TransCanada toward the prairies.

As of July 1st, we are reachable at Box 205, Middle Lake, SK, S0K 2X0. We'll be there for the summer, and -- unless a small miracle happens within the next six days -- in September we'll be back at our Edmonton address.

Now I must run, literally. I've been on a running sabbatical since just before my prairie tour. Today I FINALLY won a gift certificate on the local radio station COAST 91.7 CKAY for a restaurant (Blackfish Pub, in Gibsons), and I'm going to run out there to get it. It's a great station; I'll have an ear cocked from Saskatchewan http://www.ckay.ca/

A Garden Story, or The Way They Do Things in Saskatchewan

I am on a book tour in Saskatchewan, and family \ friend visits; gardening; performing with my father at the Seniors' Centre in Watrous; my great niece's 6th birthday party; and tenant business have also been on the calendar.

Big thank yous to my various hosts: Logan Leedahl, Helen and Jim Herr, Eileen Kaun, Donna Boehm, and Gerry Hill. And also to the librarians and event organizers responsible for bringing me here (including my friends Rose Ward in Humboldt, and Bernice Keller in Middle Lake). And the Writers Union of Canada, the Saskatchewan Writers Guild, and Vertigo Reading Series.

Especially deep bows to all the friends who are coming out to support me at my various events. Wow. I am being so pleasantly surprised.

I want to share a wee story about my experience in Middle Lake, the village where I still own a home. I hadn't been to my house there for two years, and the tenants have not been gardeners. Actually, the yard was such a wasteland, you couldn't walk from the front to the back gate for weeds. You couldn't even tell there was a sidewalk. As Greg and I may be there for 4-6 weeks this summer, I wanted to clear a small patch within the weeds and put in at least a hint of a garden.

I began thrashing away, filling my garage with bag after gigantic bag of weeds and branches and wild grass. Oh, and daisies. They'd gone utterly crazy, taking over almost everything. The raspberries have also run riot (but that's a good thing). My neighbour Eileen immediately came over and started working with me. Then Marie, from across the street. I couldn't believe it. Two senior woman, on hands and knees, working right along- side me.

Soon Grace -- who moved in on the other side of Eileen after I'd left Middle, and thus I don't even know her -- showed up and worked extremely hard for about three hours. And she has cancer! Among other backbreaking chores, she whippersnipped my grass.

Amazing.

A few hours later, my friend Shirley arrived: "I've got my trowel and my water bottle," she said, "where do I start?" Wow. "Well," I said, and gave her a big hug, "there used to be many lupines in that bed over there. Let's see what we can find." And we began, two women in the dirt, trowels in tandem, a scene reminscent of "Little House on the Prairie."

The next day I was in the garden as early as possible again (I was staying at Eileen's). I had hoped to clear a space for the tomato plants I'd been given the night before (after my reading in neighbouring Pilger). Again, Eileen worked side-by-side with me. Then my friend Elaine came over. She saw the amount of work to be done and said she was going home for her mulcher. Soon she was back, and we were getting an island of space cleared.

Eileen went to get her mail. She returned and said: "I saw Frank Punk at the post office ... he's coming over with his rototiller. I'm making lunch. Elaine, you'll be staying too."

Frank did indeed arrive. He has bad shoulders now, so I got the rototiller off the trailer and into the yard. We shared the job of rototilling. Frank brought me a bucket of seed potatoes: red and white. Wouldn't take a dime for anything.

Then Clifford arrived, to fix my lawnmower.

That island of rich soil was growing. I whipped over to the store and bought a variety of seeds. A thunderstorm was threatening. No time for ensuring string-straight rows. Eileen dropped potatoes in the holes I'd dug, and helped me plant the swiss chard, a few varieties of lettuce, beets (there will be borscht!),  cucumbers, spinach, and carrots. I cleaned up some of the perennial beds, and threw some annuals in pots.

My dad had lent me his old Nissan truck (my friends got a kick out of the fact that I was touring SK with my 9th book in that beater, oil stains on the seats) and I made three trips to the dump. Liz was working there. She charged me $7, total. The community also hugely supported me at my readings in the area.

And this, dear friends, is the way they do things in Saskatchewan.

_______________________________

VENUE CHANGE FOR REGINA READING,

MONDAY, JUNE 11TH ... 7:30 PM

The new venue is the Cathedral Village Freehouse - 2062 AlbertStreet.

____________

 and one more reading after that ...

Saskatoon, McNally Robinson

Tuesday, June 12th ... 7:00 PM

Saskatchewan Book Tour

Shelley A. Leedahl returns to her home province for a 5-event Book Tour. Leedahl will be reading selections from her latest collection of poetry, Wretched Beast (BuschekBooks, Ottawa, 2011) and, pending release date, from her new book of short stories, Listen, Honey (DC Books, Montreal, 2012).  ____________________________________________________________

Monday, June 4th, 7:30 PM:    Reid-Thompson Public Library, Humboldt

Tuesday, June 5th, 7:00 PM:   Pilger Public Library, Pilger

Thursday, June 7th, 7:00 PM: John. M. Cuelenaere Library, Prince Albert

Monday, June 11th, 7:30 PM:  Vertigo Reading Series, Regina  (at Crave Kitchen & Wine Bar, 1925 Victoria Ave., Regina)

Tuesday, June 12th, 7:30, PM: McNally Robinson Bookstore, Saskatoon

All are heartily welcome.