Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Cleaning - Literally and Metaphorically

It's the day after the Thanksgiving Day weekend. For those not of the North American persuasion, Canada celebrates the holiday in October, the US celebrates in November but both are primarily a thanks-for-the-harvest food fest.

We had an ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS weekend - cannot emphasize that enough

I stopped at The Pumpkin Patch on St. Anne Road on my way home from work Saturday. The pumpkin field is enormous, probably 80 acres, planted in a variety of pumpkins, squash, melons and ornamental corn.


Looking north down the field along one of the strips between corn swaths.

Families come to select their pumpkins for pies, decorations and jack-o-lanterns.
Very amusing to see a child lugging a pumpkin almost the size of his head.

It was a perfect day to be in a pumpkin patch.

The weather was sunny and stellar, a perfect crisp autumn extravaganza. Family and friends were here Sunday for a roast turkey with all the trimmings. 


Bryan with neighbours Adrienne and Ken, enjoying the sunshine before dinner.

Becca, Terry and Grandma.

Ken

There was fellowship around the fire in the backyard enjoying post-prandial beverages along with pumpkin and cherry pies (of course there was whipped cream, silly).

PK and Grandma, wrapped up against the wind that moved in later in the day.

Gypsy and Becca, sharing a moment by the fire

So now that the weekend is officially over, I'm spending my day-in-lieu cleaning house ... or was until about 1/2 an hour ago. Deep cleaning, moving furniture and everything. I'm mildly appalled at the condition of this place but freely admit I was slacking off all summer, so it's to be expected.

Deep cleaning the house also entails a great deal of sorting and tossing or filing. I'm a pack rat, particularly of 'ideas' - things culled from magazines, books, the internet and so on. There often isn't an appropriate place to keep these treasures so they tend to travel in a herd from place to place around the house. One day (yeah) I'll get a handle on them.

In the sorting phase of the den (terrible name for a small room that contains two easy chairs, a TV for watching DVDs - as we don't have television service, by choice - my current quilt project and a bookshelf, of course) I came across a quotation my daughter had been struggling to recall for weeks now. And so I will share and then sign off to get back to work:

Life is a journey to the grave 
with the intention of not arriving safely 
in a pretty and well-preserved body, but to skid in sideways, 
thoroughly beaten up, totally worn out and loudly proclaiming, 
"Wow. What a ride!"

Amen.

PS 7:30 pm - I didn't get back to work. I was kidnapped and taken away to Vernon to purchase stringers and risers for the outside steps and then dragged to a Mexican restaurant for supper. So see, it isn't my fault I didn't finish the housework today. Oh, and the laundry is in the dryer because it got rained on outside on the line. Again, not my fault.

1 comment:

  1. I think we've given up with all this cleaning lark. With two large permanently moulting dogs, and one scruffy individual (me), it's almost impossible.

    Your Gypsy is very much like our Bok; I bet he's a real pleasure to have around!

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