Lately my husband, Peter, has been sneaking out of the house, armed with a canvas bag and a pocket full of change. Wherever could he be going? I think I know.

When we moved from a large country home on 3/4 acre to our bungalow in the city Peter had to give up a few things, but the most serious was his large vegetable garden He left his zucchini runners, tomato vines, beans, cucumbers and blackberry plants all behind. Much as he wanted to give up the work of growing them, it almost broke his heart to walk away from his thriving green treasures. So I wasn’t surprised when, on our very first morning in our new home, Peter wanted to gulp down his coffee and go up the street to the shopping area in search of produce.

Well he did wait for me to change out of my pyjamas, and then we were off. We stopped for breakfast in the nearby bakery, and then we walked a little further along the main street. I noticed a high-end consignment store with some elegant outfits in the window. I turned to go in, but Peter was nowhere in sight. He had spotted something else:

Sunnyland!

He hurried over to the outside shelves and picked up some items. “Look at this!” he exclaimed. “Six tomatoes for only $1! A big bunch of bananas for just 50 cents!” The tomatoes had a few spots on them and the bananas were a little green, but Peter was in heaven. He filled his arms with beets, onions, apples; in fact all he could carry, and then he began handing me stuff as well. Then we went inside to pay the clerk. She smiled lovingly as Peter produced some bags from home and paid with exact change from his pocket. The perfect customer!

We struggled down the street with our produce, back towards our house. I teased him: “You know, people our age shouldn’t be buying green bananas.” But he didn’t even hear me. He was already running up the steps to the front door. He managed to get the key into the lock without dropping anything, and he rushed into the kitchen. Fortunately the fridge was a large model and it was still empty. But not for long. Soon the crispers, the meat drawer, even the butter compartment, were all full. The farmer was satisfied.

A few days later, after Peter had come home from a visit to the bank, I found green beans on the counter. Not just a small bag of beans, or a little basket; no! A whole lot of beans, maybe even hundreds, covered the counter. Peter was standing at the sink, looking sheepish. “I got all these for only $2. Can you believe it? I’ll clean them, honest!” he said. He got out all our pots, filled the sink with cold water, and began the long process of cleaning and blanching the beans, and putting them in the freezer.

I was wracked with guilt. Should I help him? If I helped him, would there be even more beans in my future? I quietly retreated to the living room to read. But I wasn’t really reading; I was thinking. How could it be that we had moved into the city and yet we had even more beans than in the country?

These days I am no longer surprised when I find our fridge filled with beets, zucchini, and more beans, and my breakfast cereal served with slightly green bananas. I just smile to myself, knowing that Peter has been sneaking off to visit his girlfriend at Sunnyland! again.

See you next Tuesday.

Sue

Not long ago, when my husband and I moved from the country to a large metropolis, I decided to write about our new experiences as seniors in the city. A blog sounded like fun. In my ignorance I expected I would just sit down I front of my laptop and type away. Several early problems cured me of that notion, but the spider was the most insidious.

First there were the logistical details of choosing a platform for my blog. Since this writing genre is increasingly popular there are a number of sites to consider. Once I had chosen wordpress.com I had to make some creative decisions such as title, username, and so on. I meticulously worked my way through the questions until I came to “logo.”

It seemed that some kind of illustration or photo was in order. I checked other blogs and saw that pictures are highly seductive. I thought about what kind of image would convey the intent of my writing: to show that it is possible to live an exciting life as a mature adult in the city. After careful thought I decided that my image needed to show me posed with my usual device for writing, but it also needed to display the city in the background. Since Toronto is my home, what better logo than the CN Tower? I put on some comfortable clothes, grabbed my laptop and my husband (who is always willing to help), and headed down to the waterfront.

First of all, it was a lovely day so all the parking places were full. Finally we scored a spot, unloaded our equipment and walked down to the shoreline. We found a rock for me to sit on, with the CN Tower in the background. How perfect this would be! I carefully climbed up, arranged my laptop, and the photographer began clicking. The first round of photos showed mostly rock with me in the centre and the CN Tower a tiny speck behind. I cautiously moved to a higher rock, and a better view was snapped. I handed over my laptop and stepped down.

On the last step I teetered, nearly losing my balance. I envisioned my immediate future, my face hitting a rock, my leg bending sideways, a trip to the nearest hospital on the way home. Somehow I willed myself to lunge forward onto safer ground, shrieking in fear but managing to stay upright as I landed on the pathway. I scratched away the bugs and leaves that had attached themselves to my jeans, and headed for the car. I hadn’t realized that a blog might cause me serious injury before I had even posted my first entry.

When we got home, I reviewed the pictures that had been taken. Oh no -a photographer’s thumb image in the lower right corner! How could we not have noticed this when we were at the park? It must have been hidden in our shadows as we swiped through the pictures. “No worry,” I thought. I’d just edit the photo; crop it or air-brush the corner. Well I haven’t done much photographic editing and it was all rather mystifying. I finally gave up and tilted the whole picture sideways. I convinced myself that it looked kind of avant-garde that way, but I realized that maybe my technical skills were going to need some upgrading for this project.

Then I sat down with a glass of wine, reviewing with mixed feelings all that I had accomplished so far. Suddenly I noticed an itch on the back of my right calf. I reached down and felt a large bump, I lifted up my pantleg. The bump was quite red, very hot, and spreading quickly. I thought back to my time on the rock when a cunning spider had likely crawled under my jeans as I was absorbed in the art of posing. Would I be going to the emergency room after all? Would a spider be the downfall of my not-yet-even-published blog?

As I frantically searched through the medicine cabinet for a topical cream to relieve the burning itch I decided that, although living in the city was fun, writing about it was going to be exhausting. Nevertheless, as long as my leg is still a part of me, I plan to write again next Tuesday.

Sue

humb image in the lower righ corner! How could we not have noticed this at the park?

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton