TREASURE HUNT

ByLee Ann

Hello there!

As most of you know, I’ve been researching my family’s history for over 15 years now. This treasure hunt for ancestors has brought me many hours of joy and insight and yes, tedium and frustration too… because in this game of genealogy, you don’t always find the treasure you’ve been seeking.

This past month I did find a treasure! I finally uncovered the European origins of my Eckhardt line – a quest I’ve coined as “Finding Frederick”, who is my great-great grandfather and the first to settle in Canada. More on the specifics of that find in another post, but meanwhile, as I’ve fleshed out another branch on the family tree, I’ve been thinking about my place there, and the role of what seems like random good luck in my life.

Which leads me to this month’s poem. It, like my hunt for Frederick, has been a long time coming. I took the photo in the spring of 2017, knowing I would use it to reflect on family when the time was right. The idea for what I’ve now written actually came to me in about 2004, when I was researching my Granger line. Over the years, I’ve made several attempts to write this idea, in essay and short story form. It took the right photo, plus the right amount of time doing the research, before I had the perspective to put the idea into the right words. Sometimes that’s how it works. 🙂

As we settle into the shorter days of November, I hope you find a treasure, however you define that! Meanwhile, here’s Sunny Side.

Lee Ann

QUIET

ByLee Ann

Hello there!

Where I live, in the historical village of Richmond, Ontario, we are so lucky to have the Quiet Garden, which sits behind St. John the Baptist Anglican Church. The Quiet Garden was a community project undertaken to mark the new millenium; it’s a lovely area set beside a creek, with flower and shrub beds, a vegetable garden, lawns, and two labyrinths. It’s a place I can go in any season, to step out of routine and “busy-ness,” to take time to just breathe.

Do you have such a place? I think you do: it can be as close as a chair in your back yard or on your balcony. As easy as closing your eyes.

This month, I hope you take some time to find some quiet in a place that can restore calm for you. Meanwhile, please stop the “busy-ness” for a moment and have a look at Contemplation.

Lee Ann

SUMMER BREAK

ByLee Ann

Hello there!

My favourite kind of summer day has always been one that starts with rain and then clears completely. There’s an exaggerated brightness to that kind of day. The kind of day when the sky flattens to a slate of blue, all the clouds erased. The sun’s rays bounce off puddles, which soon sizzle and vanish… and briefly, the grass holds sparkly water droplets.

I remember one such washed-clean day when a troop of kids from my neighbourhood in Niagara Falls headed off to the Municipal Pool. Municipal Pool was on Valley Way, a good twelve or so blocks from home: down Scott Street to Portage Road, left on Portage, first right, then all the way down to the end, walking parallel to Morrison Street where St. Mary’s School sat, empty and powerless. A gaggle of kids in a straggly line, we wore flip-flops and bathing suits. Colourful towels draped our shoulders, weighted in the corners by nickels tied securely, for popsicles after the swim. Of course, little sisters dragged their towels and got dirt and grass all over them. And every block or so, a couple of the older kids would suddenly surge forward on the wings of their towel-capes. Suddenly – a rainbow! A miracle of nature above the line of giant chestnut trees on Portage Road.

This month’s poem, “What’s Under the Surface,” was inspired by a summer afternoon along the Ottawa River. It celebrates slowing down in this all-too-brief season. May you have the opportunity to do just that!

Lee Ann

THOUGHTS ABOUT HOME ON CANADA DAY

ByLee Ann

Hello, there!

It’s Canada Day in my part of the world, and that brings me to thoughts about home: what is a home, what home means to me, and also the places I call home.

Do you ever think about that? I wonder how you’d define “home” for yourself.

To me, home is family, and I’m blessed to have a close one: my husband and our boys; my siblings and I; all our children – a.k.a. “The Cousins” – and now the next generation, for whom we’ll have a celebration this month, which has been dubbed the “Dozens of CousinsFest.”

Home to me means sanctuary. It’s the place where I create my definition of beauty: gardens and plants, warm colours inside and out, plus all the special items collected over time and generations.

Baptisia in my back garden

I’ve realized recently that there are three places I call home:

  1. Canada. I’m so grateful to my ancestors who chose this magnificent country! I’m currently on a mission to visit the northern, southern, eastern and western-most points in Canada. Two down, two to go!
  1. Richmond and Ottawa, Ontario. My village of Richmond is officially part of Ottawa, yet retains its separate identity and is actually older than the capital. I’ve been out in the village photographing and writing, and the inspiration I’m finding makes this Richmond 200 project so much fun! And recently, Geoff and I enjoyed a “staycation” in Ottawa, taking in the Jazzfest and other activities usually reserved for tourists. We barely got started on the list of things to do and see!
Ottawa’s Rideau Canal
  1. Muskoka. The Smith family cottage is a magnet for all family members and many friends too. Ten people and 3 dogs are there this weekend, in the middle of a heatwave and a power outage. Still, as my sister is fond of saying, “a bad day at the cottage is better than a good day at home!”
Three Mile Lake, Muskoka

All of this is my long-winded introduction to this month’s photo and poem, called “Where is Home?” Originally inspired by a scene near our cottage, it’s a poem that has had quite a bit of exposure. It was first published in the May 11 issue of the Glebe Report‘s Poetry Corner (page 30); their theme was “home.” You can also see it in the Richmond Hub newspaper, where I paired it with a scene along the Jock River in Richmond, which was no less inspiring to me! I hope you click to take a look at that scene.

Happy Canada Day, everyone! May your thoughts of home be as satisfying as mine.

Lee Ann

HONOURING PIONEER WOMEN

ByLee Ann

Hello there! Is it finally springtime in your neighbourhood?

Last week as the air in my neighbourhood finally softened, I took the opportunity to explore Richmond Village – my community. I wanted to see what might remain from its original settlement 200 years ago.

Site of original settlement, Richmond Ontario

The short answer is: not much remains. The longer answer is that I spent a wonderful few hours along the banks of the Jock River, which bisects the village, in the vicinity of the original “Government Reserve” block of land. Most of this block is now a subdivision, but there remains a small undeveloped piece in the south-east corner. I wandered happily back and forth along a path that used to be where two major roads intersected, delighting in the experience of standing where key events in the history of my village took place. Here in 1818 was the Commissariat, where supplies were handed out and the soldiers collected their pensions. Here was the first school, which for the initial seven years of Richmond’s existence was also home to all denominations of churches.

Richmond was a military settlement, established by veterans of the War of 1812, most of them from Ireland. We know quite a lot about the first soldier/settlers: the ranks they held, the businesses they started, the legacies they’ve left in the village, including their names on our streets. As is typical with history, we know much less about Richmond’s first women. I found myself wondering about these women and lamenting how so few details about them survive, compared to their men. I’ve blogged about this topic before (How Women Get Lost in History) and last week I wrote even more about it: a poem based on historical facts, about what a Richmond pioneer woman might have experienced (published in the Richmond Hub).

Julianna Molnar, circa 1910

This in turn led me to think about my own ancestral mothers and how I’ve worked hard to unearth details about their lives that might tell me something substantive about them. For the most part, they remain shrouded in time. This makes me sad, and also makes me want to honour them – especially my pioneer, immigrant great-grandmothers, for the particular hardships they endured.

My way of honouring is writing. So this month’s poem is for Julianna Molnár GerencsĂ©r, my maternal great-grandmother. Happy Mothers Day, to all our ancestral mothers!

Lee Ann

FINDING INSPIRATION IN THE GRIP OF WINTER

ByLee Ann

We are experiencing a reluctant spring here in Ottawa. The ground is still frozen, the neighbourhood lawns sit brown and matted, tiny buds hold tight to tree branches. For an April-born soul like me, this extended grip of winter is like a tether I’m chafing against. I need the soft spring warmth and new green sprouts of my favourite season to renew my inspiration and energy. Are you feeling the same way?

It seems that for now my challenge is to seek out the few brave tips that have broken through the crust of soil and find inspiration with what nature has to offer, instead of complaining and protesting the latest weather forecast.

So I took myself out into the back yard and found these brave tips:

And I took myself out into my community and found some more brave tips and with them, the inspiration for this month’s poem, The Only Way You Get to Bloom.

I remind myself that Nature is wise and patient and steadfast – all things I am not. I’ll take these early signs as proof that spring is emerging… albeit on her own timetable. May you also experience the wisdom of Nature this month!

Lee Ann