JOY

It’s hard to find much of that this morning.

The huge snow piles are turning brown, the crocuses are hiding underground, and a super soaker rainstorm is in the forecast. Doug Ford has won permission to dig a billion-dollar tunnel under highgway 401, while he continues to ignore our failing healthcare system. And, after treating President Zelensky like dirt in the oval office, the Orange Guy is treating Canada like dirt with his tariff plans.

How can we find anything to be happy about in all this mess? I think I’ll just give up and cry somewhere in a corner.

No I won’t, and neither will you. We are Canadians and we will deal with this. First we’ll get out our raincoats and clear the catch basins in our streets. Then we’ll send our $200 Ford cheque to a food bank. Finally, we’ll go to No Frills and buy some Miss Vickie’s made-in-Canada potato chips to drink with our glass of Ontario wine.

One activity Peter and I have found helpful during this long winter is getting together with friends and family. We held a family birthday party with lots of laughter and THREE cakes! We hosted a Chinese New Year party where nobody wore kimonos, but we played Rumoli with nickels as bets, and you wouldn’t believe how competitive people were over those nickels. We invited some friends to an Italian lunch and held them all hostage until we served dessert late in the afternoon. Other friends who are neighbours invited us to their place for lunch and we got to walk all the way there!

Being with friends and family is soothing. Even if we talk about the bad stuff going on, it gives us a sense of comfort knowing that others are feeling the same way. Plus, sometimes we get new ideas. Or new slogans. Or new energy.

Another activity is to check out legitimate media sources. Go on a laptop or an Ipad and read some posts by the well-known journalist Heather Cox Richardson. Turn on the TV and watch Saturday Night Live or Bill Mahr ranting on American stations. Listen to the remake of the Gloria Estefan song: I Will Survive! and sing along. Watch the photo diary, Canada the Beautiful, and view gorgeous pictures of places in Canada that look exactly like other beautiful places in the world:

This may look like New Zealand but it’s actually British Columbia

Best of all, we recently put up a Canadian flag in our bathroom window. That way we get to see it often. And feel almost joyful for all the good things we do have.

Sue

PS One more idea: We will definitely Not be watching any orange guy speeches tonight at 8:00.

Time to say Goodbye?

This time-honoured song by Andrea Bocelli is about love for another human being. But what about a stove or a dishwasher, or a vacuum cleaner. When is it time to say goodbye to them?

One evening, when fortunately I wasn’t cooking dinner for anybody except Peter and me, our roast chicken was still clucking after 2 hours in the oven. Finally I carved off the legs and cooked them in the microwave. They came out grey and unappealing, but at least they were well done. Meanwhile I put the carcass back in the oven and tried another setting – convection. An hour later the carcass was cooked and crisp. A temporary solution had been found.

Later on, I read up on convection cooking, and adjusted my temperatures and timing. Occasionally I worry that this setting might give up too. I just hope it won’t be when we ‘re having company. We have discussed buying a new stove. We know that the stove and all our other kitchen appliances were replaced during a kitchen renovation in 2012, so they are all (unlucky?) 13 years old.

We also know that our house is almost 70 years old, a plain red-brick bungalow on a large lot. We are situated next to a 2-storey monster home in a very modern style. The neighbourhood is slowly becoming gentrified. Peter and I are even older than the house and, when we decide to move on, this place will be razed by a developer in a heartbeat. All the appliances, new or lovingly used, will be landfill. Climate change, anybody?

A couple of weeks ago the dishwasher started acting up. It didn’t drain properly and sometimes leaked all over the floor. We had to get down on our hands and knees, a hard position for us oldies, and scoop or suction up all the dirty water. The repairman told us what we already knew – buy a new dishwasher. In the meantime, he fixed the drainage problem and the leak. Then he vacuumed out all the dirt underneath, which had been exposed when he took off the front cover. As he left he said to Peter: “Don’t spend any more money on this old girl.” I don’t think he meant me.

The following Friday, when Lucy the cleaning lady plugged in the central vac, she got no suction. The dishwasher repairman had done it in. We left for an appointment while Lucy was fidgeting with the hose, knowing there was a spare upright vacuum in the closet. When we returned a few hours later, Lucy was in distress. She had given up on the central vac and tried the spare vacuum which was also not working properly. She had to resort to “brooming ” the rugs. I can only guess how much work this had been. She left the house in a bit of a snit. I couldn’t blame her.

The central vac repairman arrived a few days later, took one look at the machine, and said it was at least 40 years old! Of course, he told us to buy a new one. Well, unlike the stove and dishwasher, this one was a deal breaker. Lucy runs the show here. But the repairman had another suggestion, a refurbished model two-thirds the price of a new one and accompanied by a guarantee. It seemed like the way to go.

The repairman actually arrived on Sunday morning and an hour later we had a “new” central vac. Lucy will be thrilled. But the stove and dishwasher are still standing – on their last legs.

We haven’t yet heard from the fridge…

Sue

Life In the Snow Lane

For the past couple of winters we have been almost pining for a big dump of snow. It’s sparkly and clean, and it opens doors to activities outside. But during the past week we have had that big dump, over and over again. And we are somewhat overwhelmed. How did we manage to forget all the difficulties and disruptions that snow can bring?

After Peter and I saw the first snow we got ready to go outdoors. First we had to dig out our insulated high boots, the ones with the good grip. Our usual shoe/boots would not make it through the drifts, or keep us steady on the ice buried underneath. Then we found mittens because gloves just don’t keep fingers warm enough. As the crowning touch, Peter uncovered his Russian-style hat with ear flaps, and I put on my ear muffs. We were fashionistas!

On Friday the driveway had to be shovelled and Peter found our electric snow-blower which he hadn’t used in 2 or 3 years. It cleared the driveway just fine, but the piles at the end of the driveway left by the city plows were just too much for that little engine. After Peter tried the shovel, with little to show for his effort, a lovely younger neighbour from across the street offered to help. The excitement of shovelling was starting to wear thin so without hesitation Peter said yes.

When we were able to get the car out, we went canvassing for our local provincial candidate. The wind was howling and many sidewalks were not plowed. We had to climb over piles and drifts so we could walk on the road. Then we had to climb back over the plies to get to the homes, where the front steps were usually slippery. When we knocked on the front door, nobody was home. Or maybe they were home and just not opening the door to the cold winter winds. Who could blame them? According to records, this is the first election held in the winter since 1887, thanks to you-know-who.

Our candidate’s sign is almost buried.

On Saturday afternoon our extended family visited us to eat Canadian roast beef and help celebrate 3 family birthdays. Our daughter, who was bringing the salad, showed up at the door at 1:00 pm while I was still in my pyjamas. She had delivered the salad all the way from Orangeville and then, after a quick visit, she and her husband and the dog drove back to Orangeville before the snow got really heavy. This was a big sacrifice with little gain for them. I couldn’t even give them any (as yet uncooked) roast beef.

I hurried to get dressed before the next guests began arriving at 2:00. While I cooked the roast and set the table, the young dads and their sons bundled up and set out on a trip to the toboggan hill. Peter followed with his ipad so he could take pictures. They returned an hour later, all snowy, red-faced, and smiling, and we all ate dinner together. We hurried through the birthday cake course so everyone could clear off their cars and try to drive home. They made it safely, but it was a slow go.

On Sunday morning we looked out to see even more snow. Peter found numerous ways to delay his daunting task. He read the newspaper which the carrier had somehow delivered during the night, he helped me clean up the kitchen, he even took a short nap. Then he donned his Russian hat and went out. But a surprise awaited – the driveway was clear! Another wonderful neighbour, this one with a monster snow blower, had beaten him to it.

One really good thing about snow – it brings out the generosity of family, friends and neighbours.

Sue

Valentine Stories

Did you know that Sir Isaac Brock asked his girlfriend, Sophia Shaw, to marry him only a couple of hours before he was killed at Queenston Heights during the war of 1812? Sophia never recovered from her grief and lived out the rest of her life as a spinster.

To celebrate Valentine’s Day, here’s a recap of some other stories from a book called the Toronto Book Of Love. Author Adam Bunch is a Toronto creator who has designed and presented tours, lectures, videos and writings about Toronto and its history. This book tells many local stories about love during the last several centuries. Not all of them are as sad as Isaac and Sophia’s.

The story of Toronto love begins with the Wendat tribe living on the northern shores of Lake Ontario, and their dating habits. If a young man sensed he was in love with a certain young woman, he would sneak into the longhouse where she was sleeping with her family. If the young woman was interested, she would blow out her torch and invite the young man into her bed. If she was not interested, she would leave her torch burning and the rejected lover had to leave the longhouse, his head bent in shame, while the family all watched. Feminism had begun!

In 1779 the Distillery District (then called York) was the site of violence over love. John White, a lawyer and the Attorney General of Upper Canada, got himself into considerable debt. At a New Year’s Eve party, so the story goes, his mistress snubbed his wife. White was depressed about his financial status and saw this situation as a way to divert attention to another topic. So he began to spread rumours about his mistress’s infidelity with other men. Enraged, the mistress’s husband met White for a duel and White was killed. Both the wife and the mistress lived long (happy?) lives.

Moving on in history to the 1850’s, we come across Sir Sanford Fleming’s story. He was “courting” Bessie Mitchell and couldn’t decide whether to marry her. So he suggested that they choose a date, November 2, and if the day was sunny and bright they would marry. Unfortunately November 2 was cold and rainy, so Fleming sad good bye to Bessie. A short time later he met Jeanie Hall and on one of their early dates they had an accident with their horse and buggy. It flipped over and injured Fleming badly. Jeanie stayed by his side, nursing him until he was well. Soon after that, they married. They stayed married their entire lives and had 9 children.

In World War I we find another romantic liaison. Billy Bishop, the famous flying “ace'” went on a blind date with a girl named Margaret Burdon. For Bishop it was love at first sight. Apparently Margaret felt the same way. But her parents disagreed. They were part of the famous Eaton family, and Billy Bishop, at the time a young unknown kid, was not good enough for the Eatons. Bishop spent the early wartime years perfecting his flying skills and improving his reputation until Margaret’s family relented. But their marriage was not without issues: Bishop reportedly had several affairs while flying missions in Europe.

Near the end of the Toronto Book Of Love, a story takes place in 1945. World War II was over and reporter Scott Young had returned from his duty as Communications Officer for the Royal Navy. He and his wife were visiting friends at a small house near Yonge and Mount Pleasant when a massive blizzard hit the city. It was a long way home, with no subway system yet built. So the Young’s stayed overnight on a cozy mattress in the basement. Nine months later, Young’s wife gave birth to a son named Neil. You may know his music.

The epilogue of the book is a fitting chapter on the Ongoing History of Kissing In Toronto, with a map included. Why don’t you Google “Toronto Kiss Map” on Friday and add your own favourite kiss location? Happy Valentine’s Day.

Sue

Oh Canada!

As February begins, the days are still frigid, with sidewalks dangerously icy and the sun barely showing its face. It’s easy to imagine a holiday in the south.

Well the news from Florida is not great on the weather front. There have been lots of cold winds and rain, not suitable for days on the beach. Vacations are also hampered by last year’s Hurricane Milton, which swept along the gulf coast downing trees and homes along the beaches, so much so that the recovery is still in progress. Add in the low value of the Canadian dollar, (yesterday’s rate was 69 cents) and people are having to be very thrifty. Apparently going out anywhere, to a restaurant for example, is as uncomfortable as it is expensive. Diners never know who is sitting beside them, maybe with a gun hidden in a purse. Conversation is strictly limited: no mention of the Gulf of America, or vaccines, or identity issues, or plane crashes, or the price of oil. Or tariffs.

So, many snowbirds are returning home early. And do we have fun in store for them! There is enough snow to take grandchildren tobogganing, the curling clubs are operating, and the outdoor skating rinks are rock hard. If you want to go farther, you can try the ski hills an hour’s drive away where the snow is not even man-made. Or head to Ottawa where you can skate on the canal for the first time in a couple of years. Or take a train to Quebec and stay at the Chateau Montebello. Enjoy the outdoors and spend your money in Canada, where it belongs.

Or do some other Canadian things. Right now there is an endless number of political candidates just waiting for you to help win their election. Provincial or Federal? Take your pick. There are lots of opportunities: phone jobs, canvassing, mailing, setting up lawn signs with a drill in freezing ground. Or go to the Chocolate Show being held this coming Saturday at the Toronto Reference Library. Tickets are required, but what a fun thing to enjoy – non-stop chocolate from 10 to 4.

Then there’s shopping. Take your weekly grocery list to Joe and Maria’s No Frills. Joe and Maria are Canadian citizens. Check out their labels: many products are grown or produced right here in our country. Indulge in some Alberta beef or Nova Scotia lobster or maple leaf cookies. Switch from Florida orange juice to apple cider. It’s delicious warmed up on a cold day. If you need a lift, add a little Crown Royal.

Many of us older folks like to visit malls where we can get exercise and stay warm in the winter. But these days it’s helpful to do a little research before shopping. Read those labels and buy Canadian. Go to Indigo and get Linwood Barclay’s latest murder mystery. Have a coffee at the Danish Pastry House, run by a Danish entrepreneur who brought her skills to Canada. For clothes, walk past Talbot’s and head for Aritzia. You’ll look great in those ripped jeans and brand-name tees. OK, maybe that’s pushing it a bit.

But you get my drift. As long as American tariffs are even being mentioned, we need to spend our money on us.

Sue

The Maple Leafs Forever!

I must be one of the few Canadians who has rarely been to a Maple Leaf hockey game. Shocking but true.

As I was growing up in our family home, Saturday nights were reserved for the hockey game. Our family, and at least one other, would gather around our tiny black and white tv screen. Everybody knew the players on the six teams. The adults gripped their rye and coke or their Molson’s and puffed on their cigarettes. The moms shared the latest gossip while the dads followed the game, – until everyone heard Foster Hewitt yell “He Scored!” There was cheering all around.

We kids had pop, chips and enough toys to keep us occupied and quiet for the 2-3 hours coming up. I remember us skittering under coffee tables and around the outskirts of the living room, not daring to get between the fans and the tv screen. When we tired of our toys, we made plans to have a sleepover. During an intermission we would approach the parents who, being pre-occupied, usually said yes. Freed from the game, we would head upstairs to make tents in the beds.

As I grew into an adult, I began to see the foolishness of this game: a whole lot of back and forth on the ice, interrupted by an occasional fight, the bloodier the better. Nobody wore helmets in those days and concussions were rampant. I saw little sense in this. Oh, the skating was good, but I preferred to watch figure skating. Then I married Peter and he turned out to be a hockey fan too. How was I to know that an Italian kid would like a Canadian sport as much as soccer?

Last week on BLOG TO I read that the actual Toronto Maple Leafs were going to have a practice session at an outdoor rink on 3rd Ave by the lake – almost in our very neighbourhood. I decided that I couldn’t, in good conscience, hide this news from Peter. He sat up in his chair with a smile. The practice was to be held yesterday morning beginning at 11:00 am. With only a short 10-minute drive for us, we decided to leave the house at 10:30 giving us plenty of time to find a parking spot.

We began to notice the traffic not far from our house. There was a long line of cars snaking their way along Lakeshore Road, everyone driving very slowly as they searched for a spot to park. Alleys were full, strip malls were full, even the LCBO parking lot was full – at 10:40 on Monday morning! We drove on past 3rd Ave, past 4th Ave, finally turning up 5th Ave in desperation. Several blocks north we managed to secure a spot and began our hike back to the outdoor arena.

We could hear the crowds roaring as we hurried along. We passed highway coaches unloading hockey addicts from all over Ontario. We saw families, aunts, cousins, babies, grandparents, wandering along arm in arm. We noticed businessmen sporting their Leafs “merch” instead of overcoats and briefcases. It seemed a lot of people were playing hooky for hockey.

When we got to the arena the crowd was enormous. There were line-ups everywhere; not just to get a seat in the bleachers, but also for free Tim’s coffee, free snack packs, and a chance to grab a selfie with a player after the practice. The outdoor arena was filled with spectators. How was I ever going to show my readers all the amazing players doing their amazing thing on the ice when I couldn’t even get near them?

Finally I spied a metal staircase leading up to the bleachers, that had nobody waiting on it. I told Peter to wait while I tried my luck. At the top of the stairs was a security agent. And this is where old age is such a benefit. I admit that I begged. “All I want is just one tiny picture for my grandchildren. Please!”

Here is the photo I got:

Dear readers, you deserve a better photo than this. On the way back to the car, Peter noticed a man with a sleeping bag. Next year we’ll have to camp out the night before.

Sue

Tim’s

Yesterday I took part in a weekly ritual: fitness with friends followed by coffee at Tim Horton’s. As I looked around the restaurant, I wondered how many other people make a visit to Tim’s as part of a routine in their lives. Do you?

I don’t remember when Tim Horton’s first opened in 1964 as a donut shop in Hamilton:

But I do remember when Tim Horton himself died in 1974, the result of a fiery crash on the QEW near St. Catharines. He was a young hockey star with a wife and family, and the accident was truly tragic. And what was going to happen to those 40 Tim’s locations? Apparently his widow Lori sold them to a business person for $1million plus a Cadillac. Not a great deal in retrospect. Today there are almost 6,000 locations in 13 countries around the world.

Tim’s restaurants have a language all their own. Who doesn’t know what a “double double” is? And “timbits” are a menu staple. As a summer treat, nothing beats an “iced cap.” The line-ups for the pumpkin spiced lattes and muffins in October are long. Everyone grabs a ‘smile cookie” in November to support various charities. Oher holidays such as Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day have their specially-named treats also.

Every Monday afternoon my 3 friends and I rush out of fitness class, grab our warm coats and drive to our favourite Tim’s location. We try to beat the crowds so we can have the table and chairs in front of the fireplace. It’s an electric fireplace which doesn’t emit any heat. But sitting there on Blue Monday feels warm and cozy when the outside temperature is minus 20. We take on world issues – climate change, politics, and of course gossip – while relaxing in the padded chairs. Not too much gets resolved but we have a great time pretending we are world leaders.

Occasionally I have a chance to look around. The clientele is varied: a university student glued to his laptop as he does his research, a mother and 2 squabbling kids escaping from their home on a PD Day, a wannabe applicant trying to score points with her prospective boss, 2 couples following the rules of social engagement for older people.

Tim’s performs a lot of services for a lot of us. Think of all the folks who hurry to a location to buy cards for stocking stuffers, a last-minute gift for the mail carrier, an extra prize for a raffle at work. In fact this past Christmas Peter, mindful of my Monday addiction, bought me a Tim’s card for $100, all his shopping problems solved with one quick stop.

But Tim’s failed us in Portugal recently. We arrived in Porto late one evening for a couple of days’ stay. The next morning we were hungry and needed a quick bite before our first activity. Where was a Tim’s when we needed it? Well, apparently Portugal is one of the few places in the world where Tim’s has not gone. So we were directed to the local – dare I say it – McDonald’s!

This was a McDonald’s like no other. The entrance is embellished with a large spread-winged eagle. The furniture is modern and sleek. The ordering is all online. The inside was decorated with a Christmas tree and packaged gifts. And overhead? Crystal chandeliers. How could Tim Horton’s ever compete with that?

Sue

The Week In Politics

It is tempting to devote a post entirely to politics. There is SO much news these days that one can hardly step away to visit the bathroom without missing another headline.

In just one week Chrystia Freeland started the trend with her bombshell announcement about leaving her position as finance minister. That was followed by Trump taking advantage of our “weakened country” with no finance minister, to harp on tariffs: “I Love that word. T a r i f f s. Doesn’t that have a lovely sound?” Next we had Trudeau choking up on the steps of Rideau Cottage as he announced his decision to step down as Prime Minister. Which brought Trump back again with an even greater threat: to make Canada the 51st state. OMG I am exhausted just writing about it all.

But the week was not over. Not by a long shot. Then we had Jimmy Carter enter the picture, or well actually leave the picture, and tributes from far and wide pouring in about all his accomplishments during his one-term presidency: his kindness, his courage to take on civil rights, his success with the guinea worm disease, his peace-brokering with Egypt and the middle east, and lots more. Carter was a shining star compared to the Other one-term president sitting at the funeral and looking smug, even when other former presidents refused to shake his hand. Reporters were so distracted that nobody even mentioned Melania’s outfit!

Then, flip channel and find all the wannabe Prime Ministers making their case for the vacant position in Canada. And there was Poilievre promoting his strength as a leader. He only stumbled once – when the interviewer asked point blank what he would do about tariffs and Trump’s threats to annex our country. His reply: “Well I am Not Prime Minister yet. Give me a chance and I’ll try to figure it out.”(slightly paraphrased by me).

Meanwhile Rob Ford is making headlines with his plans to co-ordinate the tariff response by the provincial premiers, and trying to look like the leader he never was during the covid healthcare crisis, or the land developers taking over the greenbelt, or the potential loss of the Science Centre and Ontario Place, or the bike-lane fiasco. To name a few examples. Ford is expected to announce a provincial election for mid-February, spending more tax payers’ money before he makes another big goof up.

Then yesterday – the start of another week – did things calm down? Oh no. Now we have Danielle Smith, Premier of Alberta Oil Company, and Kevin O’Leary of Dragon’s Den fame and another headline news story that is too tragic to even mention, linking arms and heading to Mara Lago as our what? Ambassadors? Who hired Them to represent our Canadian values?

But none of this is really important. In my mind, the biggest stories right now are the tragic wildfires destroying Los Angeles. No matter what threat a president proposes, or what plans our wannabe leaders have for retaliating, the most important news is how Canada is sending firefighters and “super scoopers” specially-designed to fill up and transport sea water, to help our neighbours fight these devastating fires. Nothing else matters if we don’t have a continent we can live on together.

Sue

Home For the Holidays

One belief I’ve held for a long time, as a friend, a parent and a grandparent, is that the gift of time is far more worthwhile than Barbie dolls, or videogames, or even trendy socks! Peter and I were able to put that belief into practice this past Christmas when we took our (Iaboni) family to Portugal.

We launched this idea in the fall of 2023 during an after-dinner conversation. Could we all go somewhere together, and where would everyone like to go? The response was pretty quick – they chose Portugal for Christmas. “As long as the place has a swimming pool,” the kids said. After some weather-related research, we decided on the Lisbon area. In a charming seaside town called Cascais, we found a villa with 8 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, and 2 above-ground swimming pools. It looked pretty good in the pictures.

Each family made their own travel arrangements, agreeing to meet at the villa a couple of days before Christmas. Peter and I arrived first. As we explored, we had first choice of the bedrooms. We chose one on the lower level, away from any noisy celebrations that might go on past our bedtime. It had only a tiny window and twin beds, but it had a small bathroom which we didn’t have to share. Perfect for seniors.

As the other families arrived, they set out on their own tour and chose their bedrooms. One family arrived with a sick husband and he was quickly diverted to a small bedroom near the front door close to a bathroom, although it seriously needed a make-over. It had a sink next to the shower stall, which was also the passageway to the toilet. The toilet could be flushed by pulling a chain hanging from the ceiling. Thee kids were highly amused but the sick person was not checking the decor.

The other bedrooms were quite nice with large king beds and modern bathrooms, and a couple of them had small balconies too. All the rooms had heaters to take the chill off. The kids chose their rooms far away from the parents so they could stay up at night and watch videos. None of them suggested being near the outdoor pools.

Next up was a visit to the kitchen; it was outdated like the first bathroom. The sink was shallow and made of rough granite. The stove was on a platform under a low ceiling. And the fridge – where was the fridge? We discovered it in a tiny closet. The dishwasher was in a different “area” on the other side of the kitchen. The dishes were in a cupboard in a third tiny room. Any person preparing a meal in here would get 10,000 steps before dessert.

On our tour we discovered another kitchen down a long winding hallway which seemed a little remote and creepy. What secret stew would chefs plan to concoct here? The main dining room, however, had a big table and 12 chairs. It was ideal for our group to play cards and eat take-out food. In the living room we found 3 large comfy sofas and a large-screen TV; lots of space for drinking port and eating chips. Peter and I produced an inflatable Christmas tree from a suitcase, and blew it up. It was the finishing touch we needed for our family Christmas vacation.

During the following days we left our villa and explored the area. We walked to the beach on the first evening and were surprised to find lights decorating every building and the Ferris Wheel. We ordered our traditional Portuguese Christmas Eve dinner of cod, accompanied by beef, rice and grilled vegetables, and a brave son took the local train a couple of stops to pick it up, all packaged in boxes tied with ribbons and Christmas tags. He made this trip even though he hates cod. It was a noble Christmas sacrifice.

On Christmas Day we rode the train to another town and enjoyed a Christmas brunch of egg dishes, salads, more cod, and of course custard tarts. On Boxing Day we went to Sintra, a UESCO heritage village surrounded by castles on very high hills. Everyone, including us, made it to the top.

Sintra from below.

After some lovely days together, everyone packed up and went separately on to another adventure somewhere else. But we can’t help thinking that the kids will not quickly forget our week at the villa in Cascais. The idea of swimming was forgotten as they got into the spirit of the occasion. Whether it’s the chain in the ceiling for flushing the toilet, the winding spooky hallway to the secret kitchen, the dinner that came on a train in boxes, the card games where they beat their grandparents, or the blow-up Christmas tree; we hope their memories of our vacation together in Portugal will live on.

Sue

Festive Trees

Trees have been a symbol of eternal life long before Christianity offered this hope through Christ. Then, in the 16th century, the German began bringing trees into their homes during the winter and adorning them with candles; a warm but dangerous decoration.

This tradition of indoor Christmas trees spread all across Europe. The trees were decorated with edibles like popcorn and cranberries, or homemade decorations such as chains or baubles. To this day the lighting of the Christmas tree is a ceremony celebrated indoors and out. In Toronto the tree lighting at Nathan Phillips Square, the Eaton Centre, the Distillery District are all special occasions welcoming the beginning of the holiday season.

This year I visited another kind of display – the 4th annual Mississauga Festival of Trees. The trees are designed by local crafts persons and artists, and each represents a particular theme or a belief; something with a deeper meaning than Santa and presents.

The first tree that caught my eye was called Crafting Change. It depictesthe quilting legacy of Victorian women who created beauty from scraps of fabric and patchwork quilting techniques. It demonstrates the resilience of those 19th century women who used whatever resources were available to them to build lives for their families.

There were several tress devoted to appreciation of nature: a wildlife tree with photos of local animals set on a snow-covered tree trunk, other trunks wrapped in culturally significant threads, ropes and twine, and a hedge titled False Cedars, made of 10,000 paper bundles, showing the disparity between the healing nature of cedar and the world of false materials. The Debris Tree, decorated with bits of garbage was a sobering addition to the display.

Another eye-catching display was called Roots and Branches: Dinner Legacies. Created entirely from perfectly-balanced chairs, this installation symbolized the generations of families who gathered around tables to share stories and celebrations and to support one another. The creation is topped with an olive tree representing peace, prosperity and friendship.

My favourite tree shape was created from vintage bird cages surrounded by evergreen boughs with red cardinals peeking into the scene. The inside of each cage depicts part of the Festival Narrative: holiday preparations in miniature: baking, wrapping gifts, decorating the house, and celebrating with friends.

After the tour was over, I headed back home to take another look at our own tree. This year, for the very practical reasons of saving time and space, Peter and a visiting son hauled our oleander bush in from outside, and we decorated it. Tiny white lights, sparkling silver balls and red cardinals all create a festive look. And the oleander seems very happy in its new role. I think I’ll call it:

Real Tree Enjoying the Holiday Season Indoors With Family.

Sue

PS Like the oleander, I will be celebrating the holidays with family. I’ll be with you again on January 7th, 2025