My Way of Living:
Day

The other day I was overcome with the amount of perfume a woman was wearing in a store, and I wrote this blog post titled Scents and Sensibility, describing how badly it affected me. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her scent, it was the rash it caused on my face. It struck a nerve, with many readers writing in to say that they too suffer from problems, allergies, and rashes from household cleaners, perfume, and chemical additives. Those of us who suffer these allergies, and problems are merely the canaries in the mine. We are the early warning signals that there is something wrong in the environment, in our food, in our every day world. Consider us the sentinels.

Miners used to lower a canary down into a pit to see if they became sick from toxic gases. That would allow them a chance to leave, or put on respirators. I first read about the practice in a Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House on the Prairies book, and it has stayed with me since. We are the canaries, and the mine is the environment that everyone is living in.

Go down the cleaning aisle, notice how strong the scent is, if it doesn’t bother you, consider yourself very fortunate. Like many people I am affected by the mere waft of household cleaners in the air surrounding the aisle. In fact when I worked at my retail job, I had to ask special permission to be excused from stocking any shelves in the Housewares area, because it caused my allergies, and a rash on my face to be so aggravated that I had to leave the store.

I can’t use any commercial cleaners that you purchase from the store, I can’t eat certain foods, and can’t use most lotions, makeup, and soaps that you might not even consider a problem. This is a sudden turn of events, my life wasn’t this complicated a few years ago. But apparently years of working in a greenhouse, and chemical exposure has resulted in my developing a severe chemical sensitivity.

Be aware of what you are using to clean your house, try a more natural approach, there are many premade solutions on the market that are more healthy, or you can make your own. Look into skin saving shampoos, and conditioners that contain less harmful ingredients. Laurie from When the bough breaks is linking up with me and you might like to see what she has to say also. If you suffer from environmental allergies feel free to let us know what you have to do to cope with them.

It’s tinder dry, brown, and crisp. There is a massive [at this time 100 + hectares] forest fire raging in Peachland, which lays in the central Okanagan in British Columbia. That’s only a hour and a half from our place. Homes are being evacuated, it’s so bad the highway is closed near Peachland. My neighbours are having campfires in their backyard every night during the fire ban, a re these people special? Why don’t the rules apply to everyone?

They have a fire pit burning in their lawn, during a fire ban, in a area that is full of large trees, dry grass, and houses. I can smell the smoke every night that they are thoughtlessly burning in their backyard.

I am worried for the people who live in Peachland, the TV news showing billowing smoke, the burning area growing by the minute, fire consuming everything. Water bombers, and helicopters are doing what they can, fire fighters are on the ground, but as it stands right now, they don’t know if it will do more damage before they contain it.

This is a threat that we all live with in the Okanagan, wild fires, lightening strikes, and burning houses. It’s reality in a dry climate, and with a active fire ban you think that people would be a little more concerned. They don’t seem to care, and it’s frustrating that we can’t pin point exactly who is burning campfires. There seems to be a real live, and let live mentality around here, if your neighbours are lighting fires during a fire ban, just ignore it and be a good neighbour. Is it easier to do that, and take the chance of a spark igniting, then saying something?

We saw a large plume of black smelly smoke making it’s way up to the sky the other day, someone burning garbage probably, no one worries.except for a few of us. I have to wonder if the rules only apply to some people, and if those that break them really care if anyone else is hurt. Smouldering…

All those years as a costal gardener with people staring pointing, laughing behind my back, snide comments about fertilizer, “so easy a child could do it, what’s wrong with her… ” And we finally join the ranks of the over zuchinnied now that we live up here in the hot Okanagan. Our garden overfloweth… with zucchini. We are running out of room to store them on the washer, maybe even have to move some to the dryer! Yahhhhh hooo! OK, that’s all well and fine, but now what do we do with them all?

I’ve been hoarding them, actually we are rather tired of those green baseball bats, how much zucchini can two people eat without getting tired of it. Boots turns up his cat nose at it, and refuses to run after the zucchini balls I made him. Silly kitty.

We’ve had pancakes, and fritters, which are pretty much the same thing, fried, baked, casseroles, stuffed, I am holding off on making zuckie bread, because it uses so much fat, and sugar. So I have plans to shred, and freeze a whole whack of them. Along with the zuckies are buckets and buckets of tomatoes… and guess who can’t eat them right now? Me… sigh, allergies and all that. So tomato sauce for winter, I am so looking forward to that.

Apparently tomatoes grow really well in the hot summers we have here, and I didn’t need to plant the extra dozen of plants that I did. On the coast, you plant 5 plants for every one that you hope will survive, and even then, you really don’t expect more then one or two tomatoes per plant.

Whoops, too many, didn’t I wish for that earlier in the spring? Nice to know that something other then stinkbugs, mosquitoes, and flies do well up here. And that next year I don’t have to have a crop at the farm, and a backup crop at the house. How was your zuchie count? Any recipes, or ideas with what to do with them now that we have so many? Green, with zuckies…

I am not getting all new age hippy dippy on you here, but I mean it when I say “our house is happy.” It didn’t tell me so to speak, or give a happy sigh, it’s more of a vibe. A feeling, and it’s giving out a feeling of happy. Does your house speak to you? Really? How, um… interesting. Truly after all these months the house is finally happy. All houses have a vibe, some cheerful, some grim, some comedic, take a good look around at yours, it might not be shouting it out, but it’s there. It’s not words, it’s not the way it’s decorated, it’s a vibe, a feeling, some houses look run down, and sad, they need some attention, fix them up and they come back to life. It’s not the Reno that makes it happy, it’s the attention.

Our house was on the market since last summer, we bought it this winter, it took a while to warm up to us, even during the heat of the summer. Almost as if it felt a little lost, as if missing it’s people, the sounds of children’s laughter, and the joyous barking of little dogs as they ran up the stairs. It certainly took it’s sweet time to make up it’s mind to like us.

The other morning while tidying up the basement, I knew that something had changed, the house felt better. It’s not us, it’s not the decor, it was the house, and it was happy.

Happy, the house is happy with us, and Boo. It shows. It knows we love it, and respect it, and the little changes we are making are making it a better house. I think the house appreciates it, and so do we.

House, I really love you too

How many times have you been leaving a comment on someone’s blog and thought “hey that would make a great blog post.” And then promptly forgotten what the thought was. Gone, erased totally blank… It was there when I thought of it. At least I think it was, if I could remember what it was that I thought about.

Here’s another example: Have you remembered to pick up the mail today, take the laundry out of the dryer, or is it still in the washer from this morning? Let the cat out, and forgotten all about him? Remembered to take something out of the freezer for dinner. Made a special effort to remember to write down all the things needed from the grocery store, and then forgotten to take the list.

What’s up with that? Is this that dreaded middle age thingy they always talked about, and when does middle age start? Not now, I am not ready for it, so it must be ahead in the future, yes that’s when it starts. What were we talking about? Oh right, can you hang on for a sec, I just need to transfer the laundry to the dryer. Oh and the cat wants in, didn’t I just let him out a minute ago?

My mind is wandering, what’s for dinner again? Oh I totally forgot to get apples from the grocery store. Again, sigh. Did I write it down, where did I put that list, and what is the cat doing outside? I thought I let him in. Befuddled…

I’ve been spending time on Pinterest lately, down loading recipes with anticipation of cooler weather and winter setting in. Might as well get started on the cold weather insulation early, well that’s my thought process. When was the last time you had tapioca? Did anyone tell you it was really frogs eggs, and did you ever eat it again? It’s certainly a common tale, being told tapioca is made from frogs eggs, it’s a love it or hate it kind of dessert. My Mom was a real tapioca kind of Mom, she must have made it at least once a week. We ate it swimming in maraschino cherry juice, the cherry in the middle making it look like a desert island. Yes, that was the gourmet version of the 70’s, along with jello salads, and tang and I haven’t had any for decades.

I must be feeling nostalgic because I decided to make some with giant tapioca balls the other night, they are anything but instant, needing to be soaked for at least a hour before you make the dish. I entertained myself by watching Bootsie chasing down a giant tapioca ball the length of the kitchen, moving like a black blur, tail in air, and cat bouncing along. He was so cute I thought he would like some more to chase, which was great until someone stepped on them with their bare feet which was rather painful. It’s all fun and tapioca until someone gets hurt.

I am still searching for the childhood favourite recipe for chocolate covered cornflakes, and shredded coconut drop no bake cookies. I remember them from my childhood, boiling the chocolate syrup, mixing in the cornflakes, and the coconut, and then burning our fingers when we snitched a taste.

They were so good, I would love to have that recipe… Anything from your childhood desert list that you are nostalgic for? Sweet memories……

Let’s pretend. That summer never ends. That the leaves will never turn. That the chill in the air is only from the early morning. That the blues, and whites of summer flowers will never end. That the pinks, and greens will stay forever etched in our hearts. Hold out your hand, and let’s make a promise to each other that summer will never end. Pretend with me. That the sun will rise each morning a joyous ball of golden light, each day will be lit within our hearts by it’s beauty.

Let’s pretend that these warm days, and the stunning light continues on. Let’s pretend that there is no garden to clean up this year, that the flowers will bloom forever.

Shall we just sit awhile and enjoy the beauty that summer is. Tell me that winter will not come again. Promise me that the birds won’t leave.

What’s that in your hand, tell me it’s not a falling leaf… Let’s pretend. Living in a endless summer…

We are 10 months into our new life up here, nearly our first year of living in the Okanagan, and you would think that by now it would feel more like home. In some ways this area feels so familiar because we have spent so many holidays here, but there are times I find myself daydreaming about my favourite haunts down on the coast, forgetting that they are a 5 hour drive away, and not just out the door in a quick walk. The feeling is fleeting, it comes and goes, sometimes when I look out the window, or when we are driving down the hi way, I will get a flash of unfamiliarity, a sense of where are we. It’s not constant, it doesn’t last, and I am wondering when it’s going to go away.

It could be the changing seasons, the promise of the leaves turning, and the spectacular glow in the sky during the setting sun. It could be that I miss my close friends down there, and the only familiar faces I see so far are my family up here. But one part of me is walking through memories of the urban forest in my mind, watching the squirrels chase the leaves, and hearing the barking of the off leash dogs running down the path to greet me. Or maybe I am at the beach, feeling the ocean spray on my cheeks as the wind howls in October.

And then I shake my head, and look out at the fir trees that surround our new house, I watch the squirrel tossing down cones in a steady stream onto our lawn, I hear the ravens, and the eagles cawing it out over the fields, and I realize that unfamiliar scenes at times or not, I am home, for good. And it is good.

I know that it’s a good feeling to consider this home, and that part of my heart was wrenched away from the ocean too soon, the familiar spots are still down there, and I can visit any time I want, but I don’t want to go, my life is here, and here is where I want to be.

It’s a different climate, a different look to everything up here, there is less moisture, less green, the sky is bigger, better, this is my life, but I hope that feeling of unfamiliarity goes away soon. After all it’s been almost a year.

Is this just me, or have you made a big change in scenery, and felt this way? I would love some feedback… tell me it will change, this isn’t homesickness, it’s fleeting, it comes only for a few minutes. And I definitely don’t want to go back. Not homesick…

Use what talents you possess: the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang the very best. Henry Van Dyke Bessie that cow wasn’t the best of all Farmer Johns milk cows, her milk wasn’t the sweetest nor was she the most prolific in giving it during milking time, in fact sometimes she was downright ornery. What talents do you possess, and do you make use of them?

Bessie didn’t have the prettiest coat, or the shiniest hooves. She never let that stop her, because Bessie the cow knew that her talents lay in flirting with her great big cow eyelashes, and she never missed a opportunity to do so.

She would regularly bat those long lashes at Farmer John, and any other visitor. “ohhhhh she’s so pretty,” they would exclaim, not noticing that she was standing hoof deep in muck.

Farmer John was smitten, and always made sure Bessie got a extra helping of hay.

The other cows would moo jealously at Bessie, but she would merely turn her head and bat her eyelashes at them until they too were under her spell. It was the only talent Bessie possessed and she milked it for all she could.

And you can guess which cow Farmer John kept around long after her milk stopped… yep, Bessie. Milking it…

It’s a little bit of a odd feeling visiting the IPE Fair in Armstrong this year, since it’s the first time we are here as locals, and not as visitors, or the dreaded TOURISTS. There’s good reason the locals leave town during this most stressful and crowded week, the little town of just over 4000 people has a massive influx of visitors from all over with over 150,000 people attending the fair. Parking spots do not exist, stores are crowded and the line ups are long. Do you have country fairs where you live? Do they take over the town like the IPE does?

A mainly agricultural fair, the IPE is in it’s 113th year of holding court to farmers, townies, and tourists.

It’s also billed as the second largest fair in BC next to the PNE held in Vancouver. It’s a fun day of zucchini races, logging competitions, vegetable and harvest displays.

The theme this year was catch the buzz, it’s a honey of a time to be had in town, with local business joining in sweetly putting up displays, and painting windows with bees to keep the town buzz going.

There were lions, tigers, camel rides and a real live zebra, lamas walking the midway, cows and sheep, goats, and pigs.

Something for everybody, and let’s not forget hot tubs, yes the “almost every house we looked at has a hot tub” kind of hot tub. Now I know where they get them from, the IPE fair.

Chomping on cotton candy…

Even though I worked in garden centers for ages, and had my own container garden for 17 years, there are still many things to learn about having a ground centered garden. Each day my garden teaches me something I didn’t know. What have you learned from your garden? 1. I am learning to live with my brown front lawn, in fact I rebelliously take pride in being one of the few water wise dead lawn home owners around here. I thought we lived in the country, why on earth do we need to have perfectly manicured green lawns?

2. The dollar store Dahlia I got for 2 bucks is the nicest plant in my garden. It’s bigger than the more expensive dahlia’s I got at the nursery, guess where I am shopping next spring.

[This shot is a little bug eaten, but then again every thing is by now.] 3. A weed will grow anywhere, yes anywhere, and no it’s not just a flower that hasn’t learnt to grow in rows, or any cute sayings like that.

4. Plant more seeds, and plant them earlier, even if it was still freezing cold, and we still had patches of snow in April. Start them indoors if I have to.

5. Plants need water, even if it rained every second day in June, I didn’t give them enough. They need a lot of water, in fact some need too much water, they will be weeded out. 6. If the rose didn’t bloom in the spring, it’s never going to bloom all summer. Get the pruning shears give it a hack job, and move it to the back of the bed. Planting bananas at the base did not make it bloom either, maybe I am just not a rose whisperer.

7. Don’t bother to plant anything under the Fir trees, nothing will grow there, and if it does, the bugs will eat it up. Get a dry shade groundcover that looks green from a distance, and suck it up buttercup. 8. The best for last, I now have Tagettes, [French marigolds] blooming, grown from seed taken from bedding plants planted in May. Who knew that you could do that? Talk about double dipping, and it’s free. I don’t know if they were hybrids or not, the tag is gone, but who cares they were free. I am learning lessons from my garden as it grows, any lessons that your garden has taught you? Growing…

Our little country subdivision is a real hummer during these cooler summer evenings. It’s neighbourhood watch time, in summer during the heat wave there were very few dog walkers out in the day, but now that it’s cooled down somewhat it’s a real parade of dogs kids, people, and more dogs. Do you pick up after pooch? You do not want a reputation here for not picking up after your pooch, it sticks and never goes away. I have had each dog owner that hasn’t picked up after their dog, pointed out to me by well meaning neighbours. Your reputation depends on if you pick up, and how your dog behaves.

“That one left some behind one morning at 6 am, and he thought I never noticed” she will point to a unsuspecting neighbour, who regularly picks up his pooches' deposits whenever I see him. But apparently it’s one strike you are out around here, and my neighbour never forgets, or forgives. “He stopped, looked around, pulled out the plastic bag, and just walked away.” Now I watch for him every morning she tells me. What she would do if he was caught in the act I have no idea, but he is smeared ahem, for life.

Yappy dog is going for a walk, I point out the teeny dog to my husband, it lives across the street, and the owner will stand and talk to neighbours and let the dog bark without stopping, it’s shrill bark penetrating our houses walls, and windows.

Our front window is large and we can see much of the street, and many evenings we sit and watch the poopy parade out front. Boo our cat, is fascinated by all the commotion as dog meets dog, tails wag, and people brag.

We know the dogs by sight better then we know the neighbours, huge dogs, walking neatly beside small little dogs, mid sized dogs walked by friends that meet and greet each day.

There is even a couple that regularly walk many of their neighbouring dogs, at first I didn’t know, and had lost count of how many dogs I thought they must have had. Because each time I saw them, they had different dogs on the leash. It seems neighbourhood watch has gone to the dogs. How is yours for picking up? Woof… PS: The dogs pictured above are not any of the dogs mentioned in this post.

There is something almost melancholy about waking up to a cloudy day, especially when you know that it’s almost the end of summer. It hasn’t rained for over six weeks, and today we finally got a meagre amount of what we would call a sprinkle down on the coast, but up here this is rain, the streets are barely wet, but it’s moisture, we will take what we can get. Ushering in Autumn, can’t wait. The pale pink impatiens that looked so perky, and cheerful a month ago, now just look disillusioned. I so don’t want to see pale pink, I want cheerful fall colors, yellows, russets, oranges, reds, and colors that usher in Autumn.

Searching for acorns, pumpkins, straw, and corn husks, anything that will wash away summer, and usher in Fall. How can you go from loving pinks, and purples one day, to craving colourful Autumn tones the next?

Bring on the apples, crisp and shiny, the pumpkins, the gourds, the squash, the sheaf's of wheat, I want to decorate Fall style. I feel restless, reckless, and rebellious. I want to make some dramatic changes to our decor, but haven’t the continuous energy or drive to do something. So I focus on small projects, dreaming, planning, and imagining.

The fireplace mantel will be my first challenge, it needs a update, something crisp, Autumnal, and cheery, but in those lovely warm turquoise/teal tones that I still crave. Farewell to the soft pinks of the impatiens, and geraniums, bring on the bright jewel tones of Autumn. The brown lawn up front will coordinate nicely with some russet tones of mums, and ornamental grasses. And the door already painted a soft caramel now looks perfectly toned for Fall. There is a rhyme and a reason for each season under the hot Okanagan sun. Absolutely in awe of Autumn…

My parents just bought a new car, and I keep hearing them referring to it as their pride and joy. I thought that was me, or my sister, but I guess we are old news, and we can’t compete with all the technological advances made since they last bought a new vehicle 15 years ago. When’s the last time you bought a new car? Their new baby has a backup camera, keyless entry, [that’s not when you climb through a bedroom window in your teens], and does almost everything but the dishes.

Because our climate up here is pretty darn cold in the winter, it has heated leather seats, “a absolute must” declared my Mom. It has so many gadgets, and gizmos that they are still learning how to turn on the dual control air conditioning in the middle of a heat wave, instead of the heat, and the GPS disappeared when someone hit the wrong button and somehow changed all the radio stations.

She let me drive it to the almost big city to take her to a appointment, and we did some shopping afterwards. Someone had goofed up in the weather department, and it was blazing hot.

About halfway home during a 20 minute trip when the seats were still burning behind our backs, we tried to double check to find out if the heated seats were turned on. We managed to find the right buttons, but then the heat kicked in, and the air conditioning stopped cooling us down in over 33 C weather. The keyless entry wouldn’t lock the doors, and the GPS said we were in Hawaii. So much for technology. And who’s your pride and joy now Mom?

“Next year, no gardens,” he say’s. It’s with the utmost concern in his voice, it’s a suggestion, because he is overly worried about me. I’ve spent a good part of our first summer up here as a indoor captive but it’s not really any different then any other summer in the last few years. Does summer make it hard for you to go outside also? Something out there at times makes it hard for me to be outside, a rash all over, vertigo, and other assorted allergy symptoms have combined to make this a summer season not to be enjoyed. I am hoping that the rain not yet forecasted will help with my allergies.

Add in excessive heat, the kind that blasts through the door as you open it, and summer up here is best enjoyed from behind the window.

But it seems that the hot spell is finally over, we have had a few cool nights, and a lovely cooler day, what a relief. Although many of the temperatures will still easily reach 30C here, the cooler nights, and mornings will make me shiver as I drag that hose around the garden.

As much as I love summer, I am looking forward to turning on the oven, baking deserts, breads, casseroles, and anything roasted again. Salads are wonderful, but too much of a good thing can be just too much. The squash shall be ready, and the apple crop will be harvested soon, I can’t wait.

What part of the cooling down of summer is the most pleasing to you? Dreaming of turning on that oven…

You know that nagging little voice, the one that tells you to do something before you forget all about it, and you usually ignore it. Sometimes there is a good reason not to ignore that voice. I ignored mine the other morning when it said remember to write your blog before you get busy. But I didn’t get a chance to write it because I ended up with a nasty case of vertigo, and wicked bed spins that won’t go away, and even now it’s making me dizzy.

There is no way these allergies are taking me down with them, even if it means going up the stairs with two hands, head spinning. Bring on the Gravol please. If I am really careful and don’t move my head too much I can do this, it’s only allergies, and sinus. Not to worry, it’s just annoying.

That little voice also made me remember that I was going to make a personal medical journal to track our medical history. Ours is going to be pretty simple, just a binder with printed pages in it, but the information will be valuable if there is a medical emergency. There are many sites with free printable pages on the internet to customize your own, and I am encouraging you to make one for your family. Just Google medical health records, and you can find some that suit you.

I wish I had kept better records of my allergy symptoms, it’s so easy to forget each year when they calm down, and figuring that out would be easier if I kept track in our binder. I hope that the nagging voice goes away when I organize the book, and so do the bed spins. Spinning…

It’s no joke, a woman [me] really did walk into a paint store, and her poor husband sat outside in the truck while she did that. In the burning hot summer sun. Well, I guess he could have come into air conditioned store, but he choose not to. They tell you not to leave pets in cars during the summer, what about husbands? “Don’t be too long” he said. Of course I won’t, I’m, just getting a couple of color samples, I told him as I disappeared into the giant brush that doubled for a door. It’s only going to take a minute. And even after years of marriage he still believes me.

Poor man, and it was hot, he had no water, but he could always have come into the store.

Once inside the paint store with it’s colorful rainbows of chips, and buckets of beautifully labeled paint tins, rows of brushes, and a future of color coordination I was transported to another world. One where the bathroom could be any color other then flesh eating pink, and the hallways were not dark denim blue, or living rooms lavender.

Give me a few suggestions for the main floor I asked, and after turning down numerous green and blue tinged samples we decided I was a earth tone kind of girl. Caramels, bisques, creams.

Totally forgetting that my poor husband was outside in the heat, patiently waiting in a black truck. I turned up my nose at the light greeny aqua colors from the 50’s, you can still find farmhouses painted those colors up here. Retro or not, it’s been there, done that with those tones.

Enraptured by the shades, the choices, the attention to detail the minutes ticked by. I finally left with a handful of choices only to find my husband a melted puddle on the floor of the truck. Would your loved one rather have waited in the hot sun, or been inside choosing endless shades of cream colors? Melting…

The odd thing about interior design is that I love it, but I have no great urge to make spectacular changes to our house every few months. And I know that there are people who can, and do this all the time. “I just wonder where they get the energy, the inspiration, and the absolute knowledge that you made the right choice.” We have to make some changes when the weather cools, because it’s time to get rid of the dark denim blue hallway, and the lavender living room. Oh and the flesh eating pink bathroom walls, they are going out the door.

Soon, just as soon as we can pick some colors. Right, I know you’ve heard me say this before, but this time it’s true.

Seriously, I’ve even gone out and picked color chips, and if that’s not a lesson in frustration, what is. Did you know that there are 16.78 million colors of cream? Bisque, beige, cream, cottage white, flower white, sea salt, oatmeal, clotted cream, all this talk of color is making me hungry.

And then there is the “greige’s”, the grey/beige combo that is all the rage, did you even know that colors can be all the rage? Oh and don’t forget the new upcoming color trends for 2013, whew, how much more creams do I need? Apparently 12.780 million choices.

Sure I am exaggerating, there are only about, oh a million cream tones to choose from, and some will be the “it” cream color for next year, and some will be has beens… oh the pressure.

I just want a color that we can live with, a open arms, come on in and put your feet up kind of warm light reflecting color. One of those I feel so at home with this choice that is going to cost around $100 per room in paint alone, kind of color.

We have a lot of rooms to paint and I want to make sure we pick the right colors. After all if I make the wrong choice, I am going to have to live with it for a long time. Right now the contenders are all hanging onto the wall with double sided tape, some falling by the wayside as the tape comes undone. Maybe that’s how I should choose, the one left hanging is “THE COLOR.” Survival of the fittest, in color chips. Choosing…

Despite the fact that we have had consistent daytime highs of over 30C for a month now and we feel parched and dry, it is worth it to leave the house. Even if leaving the house makes me itch uncontrollably, because it’s allergy season for me. And the beautiful golden wheat fields just down the street have caused my allergies to act up. Are yours as bad as mine? When they harvest the wheat the dust floats on the ever so hot air, and I itch, all over.

We try to keep the windows shut all day during the heat, but we like to open them late at night for fresh air.

I like fresh air, I don’t like itch. I know, don’t open the windows then, but I really can’t stand air conditioning.

It was so worth it to take the camera out for a spin, even if the open windows of the truck made me itch. Watching the sun set through those trees, and the fields turn caramel was so worth it.

Now please pass the antihistamine.

When I was growing up we used to have large family gatherings friends, and family for Sunday dinners almost every weekend. All the good china, and the silver came out, and none of it could go into the dishwasher. DID YOU HAVE BIG FAMILY DINNERS WHEN YOU WERE YOUNG? And did you enjoy them? When I was young it was great, we were kids and anything different from the norm was exciting, and we didn’t seem to mind all the dishwashing. We were making a family memory. But as I grew into a teenager seeking personal solitude, and privacy those dinners became torturous. Nosy guests commenting on my height, my lack of curves, did I have a boyfriend, [what did they think, first they tell me I’m too tall, then too skinny, LOL.] The prying questions in what felt like such a public setting, groups of adults all peering at me, was not what this shy, sensitive girl needed. They were making a memory, and it wasn’t good, not to mention all the dirty dishes.

I started to detest those dinners, and was more then glad to have them behind me once I reached a adult age, and moved out, it was to be my choice if I attended or not.

After my family moved up country and I was all alone on the coast, the family dinners were few and far between. For years I longed to have impromptu family dinners, I missed them. As part of a married couple we had lots of dinner parties with friends, but it was the family ones that I missed the most. Odd how you can miss something that you didn’t like but I did.

Now that we are all up here together in the North Okanagan we are trying to create the good parts of those dinners, nostalgic haze glossing the bad memories into a burnished glow. No more awkward questions, no more good china, and heirloom silver, just good food, good memories, and not too many dishes. We are making a family memory, one that everyone can enjoy.