Sourdough Starter Rejuveated

progress of my starter was slow, 

almost non existent. 

it had been doing well ~ sort of

Sourdough expert where are you?

“Rejuvenating Sourdough Starter”

 ~ key words in Google ~

‘starter in the fridge too long’. 

Click!

a video @moon + magnolia  

    showed me what I was missing: 

   

 use cold water rather than warm; 

    my water to flour ratio was off. 

@moon + magnolia taught me to:  

      ~ feed starter every 12 hours

      ~ use whole wheat flour - more micronutrients 

With the corrections, in a few hours, 

My jar overflowed and bubbles lined top and sides. 

I love my sourdough bread!!

Next loaf to be baked on Sunday.

“Bread is alive and sourdough is proof.’

~ Anonymous

A Special Breed

From 1978 Class Reunion

There has been nothing like reconnecting with my nursing classmates ~ Class of 1968 as well as the entire Nursing School. These Regina General Hospital Nursing School reunions have been held annually for decades. The only break was during the Covid 19 Pandemic. Tonight the oldest woman there, graduated from the class of 1949. Classes celebrating their every five year reunions had red roses on tehir tables and were the first to be called for the buffet line. Our early alumnae suppers were when few of us had grey hair, our joints were all still working, and we talked about our little children - first days at school, basketball games and early morning hockey practices. In those years, I had wanted to renew that part of my early adult years. So many new friends, new experiences, laughing over student nursing experiences, boyfriends, young marriages and the gift of finally free of high school, and really being grown up. Tonight was another in a string of our annual Alumnae Luncheons. We changed suppers to luncheons as the work of the ages was catching up on us. Now most of us with white hair, some walkers or canes, a daughter accompanying a mother. Now we talk, just as non stop, about grandchildren, school events for them, driving kids to the practices when parents are too busy. The conversation, non-stop, turns to new experiences, travel, laughing over student nursing experiences, husbands and health conditions only if there are funny anecdotes, concerns for classmates that are unable to attend.

We are a special breed of retired nurses who spanned careers from the bedside to university lecture halls; public health nursing and school nurses and many more that I can’t name tonight. Why are we a special breed? Because few nurses educated since the mid 1970’s will have such glorious reunions of their school alumnae. We lived in a residence, had our classes and trained in the same hospital and were together for three years. When we are together with each passing decade, our numbers grow smaller, but we still sing our school song at the end of the night. We are still connected to our past selves - in fact we almost become our past selves even if for just 2 hours. 

“You’re off to great places, today is your day, 

your mountain is waiting, so get on your way.”

~ Dr. Seuss

Author's note: I used large print for those of us that may prefer it.

Reunion Fellowship

Regina General Hospital to the right
Nurses Residence at the back

Faces unchanged but still the same ~

conversation flowed like pebbles along a shore telling of

exploits and experience wrapped in the warmth of fellowship

while photos and yearbooks examined for classmates we miss, memories of rigid or kind instructors, student pranks and residence life.

At the buffet line, the bubbling chatter merely slowed.

“We all take different paths in life but no matter where we go, 

we take a little of each other everywhere.”

~ Tim McGraw

Where Nurses Come From

Nursing is not a solitary task. We must find a place of solitude when creating relationship with our patients, while remembering the demands and exceptions of the outside world. Before the work and soul of nursing, we were girls and young women. In nursing education before the 1970’s in Saskatchewan, we entered a three year diploma program. We lived 300 strong in a Nurses Residence, rooming with a stranger following the same path. We learned about physicians and the power they held, and had to learn our own place in health care. We learned about medicines and surgeries, wheelchairs and dietary restrictions. We wore starched uniforms and caps; black stockings in First Year and white stockings after successful completion of that first terrifying, exciting First Year. The shoes! Very sturdy and boring. Definitely not dancing shoes, but serviceable. Our white, starched and very annoying, caps: no band in First Year or Second Year; a blue band in Third year. Many of the procedures and equipment are pieces of history now. What is the same is that sick and injured people need the care that nurses give 24/7, no matter the staffing shortages, pandemics, or tragedies. 

Most, if not all, of our class of 1968 have retired; we have lost too many over the years to the illnesses we have all cared for. Some of these young girls, now older women, are gathering this weekend for our 55th Class Reunion. Those lost to us will be sadly missed. Those not attending due to distance or circumstance will also be missed. Yearbooks and mementos always bring forth memories to compete with good food, many tears and a lot of laughter. 

“Panic plays no part in the training of a nurse.”

~ Elizabeth Kenny

Moving

Moving

The house wasn’t the same to her anymore. Nothing really had changed. At least not that much. Clarisse still had the same old comfortable furniture. His hoodie still hung on the hook by the front door. She had told him not to forget it, but was glad that he did. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the strange feeling. Walking into her kitchen she ran her hands over counters free of toast crumbs and spilled milk. The dining room was hers now. Just a low vase of pink and mauve sweet peas graced the polished wood. Starting to smile, she rubbed her hands together. “I’m going upstairs……to the bathroom.” It was clean! No wet towels on the floor, smushed tube of toothpaste….in the garbage. She straightened the colour coded towels on the wicker rack next to the sink. The mirror, free of streaks and splashes, showed each of her well deserved wrinkles in clarity. Stepping out in the hall, she peered into his room. The bed was made! No sign of teenage years. The closet was empty……almost. A deflated football, old sneakers (Phew!!). Picking them up between two fingers, holding them far away she put them in an empty trash basket. “That comes downstairs with me.” 

She opened her bedroom door….wide. Her room was always neat as pin, but as long as she lived with family, or had guests, she kept it closed. “Hmmmm. Maybe, I’ll get a pet….may have to keep the door closed then; but we’ll seec” She stood still and inhaled the silence of her house. The house wasn’t the same to her anymore and she would miss the disarray. She would miss her son, his clumping down the stairs, slamming the door on the way out, leaving the refrigerator door open, playing the horrendous noise that he called music, always on his phone or tablet. “Sorry Mom!” echoed. She took his hoodie off the hook, held it to her nose and breathed deeply. Then coughed and took it to the washing machine. “He’ll be back. He’s only 500 miles away at university.”

“If you want to become full, let yourself be empty.”

~ Lao Tzu

**Random first line from writingexercises.co.uk

Something to Help

Something to Help

Philomena, his twin sister, was to return from a cross Canada trip. Her twin, Phil was to pick her up at the airport in Hartley. They had never liked being separated as children and into their teens. Different as adults, Philomena wanted to go to University on the mainland - thus her cross Canada trip. Phil had yet to decide. “Phillie, you know exactly what you want to wear and your closet is so neat it drives me crazy. Why can’t you make a simple decision about whether to go to University or not. We both had awesome grades. But look at you! All tanned and rugged looking.” Phil gave his sister a bear hug when he saw her at the airport. “Already talking and we haven’t even got to the car yet! I’ve been working hard. Dad may be the boss doing his contractor thing, but I’ve been hanging off scaffolding on some of his buildings unless it’s been raining. And there’s not been much rain in the last couple of weeks. Weird for the Island, but I’ll take it. Tell me all about your trip.” His sister was almost asleep in her seat, but had heard every word her brother said. “Now that I’m sitting, I’m not sure I can tell you much. So sleepy. It’s.. been..a… long…..” Phil took his eyes of the road long enough to glance at his sister. “Sound asleep. I’ll just put some music on low and quiet.” The airport traffic wasn’t very heavy, and they had missed the ferry traffic to the island.

~~~~~

When Philomena woke up she didn’t know where she was. “Has the plane landed? What’s this strap across my chest…….Phillie what are you doing here?….” Rubbing her eyes, she sat up and realized where she was. “Wow! Are we almost home? I hope mom’s got something in the fridge, I’m starving. Haven’t eaten anything since Edmonton, except the cookies they give you on the plane. I feel so gross. I need a shower.” She sniffed the air around her. “Can you smell me Phillie?” Big sigh. Phil was laughing at his sister. He had hoped that the trip would cure her of her chatterbox, but on that drive home was just glad to hear her voice. “You smell just fine - like you’ve been on an airplane all day. How far did you get?” She was scrolling on her cellphone. “What? Oh, I got all the way to Winnipeg. Not exactly cross Canada, but far enough for me. I had been 100 Universities and talked to a million registrars and their secretaries. Winnipeg, Regina, Saskatoon, Calgary, Edmonton and Vancouver. Every place was nice and I applied at most of them. I had all my paperwork with me. Could have done it online, but I wanted to see the places first. Good excuse for a trip too. I’ve just gotten tired of working any old job. Want to stretch my wings.” She was silent for so long, her brother thought she’d gone back to sleep. “I just want to do something that will make a difference, not just in my world but in the whole world. Maybe….No, it isn’t.” Phil glanced at her. “What isn’t?” They always knew what the other was thinking, but he decided to check. “I’ll never make a difference in the whole world, but maybe the world of one person. And no, I don’t want to be a nurse. Mom always wanted me in nursing just because she was a nurse. Nursing is a whole lot different now. Don’t tell her but I did check out a couple of nursing programs. Not for me.” Phil turned into their parents driveway. “Look at us! Two grown adults still living at home. That’s what else I want different, brother dear. I love mom and dad to bits but I really need to be away from them to figure out my own life. And that’s what you need too, Phillie.” Her brother got her bags from the trunk of his beat up car. “Dressed to the nines all the time and you’re driving this old beater!” His sister, had taken a big leather bag from the back sea and and slung it over her shoulder. “What have you got in these suitcases, Menie! They didn’t weigh that much when I took you to the plane.” His sister’s face screwed up. “Don’t call me that! It was okay when we were kids, but my name is Philomena, thank you very much. I’ll still get the door for you so you don’t stumble over my loot.” Opening the front door, she called in “Mom! Dad! I’m home and hungry. That chicken smells delicious and is that apple pie too!” Phil barely carried her luggage through the door before their parents were there. Hugging his sister, his mother was crying and his father had a permanent grin on his face. “Hey you guys, slowdown, you’d think I’d been gone to another country for ten years. I’ve only been gone three months. And I’ve talked with you every day.”

~~~~~

Her parents had so many questions to ask their daughter. Gathering around the dinner table, it was so good to have their children home - grown or not. They were disappointed though. Phil knew what would happen. Philomena filled up her plate, looking forward to a good home cooked meal. One bite of her mashed potatoes and gravy, she laid down her fork as though it was too heavy to lift. “I have to go to bed, mom. I’ll get up in a couple of hours and have something to eat. I’m just too exhausted.” She saw the concerned, but understanding, look on her mothers face. “But I can tell you that coming in on the plane this morning, I saw the mountains and the waters. I knew then that I just wanted to be home. Tomorrow when I go through my information from the Universities, I’ll decide where I want to be. Just somewhere that I can help.” She kissed her parents, ruffled her brother’s too neat hair and went to bed. “Good night, family.”

“I cannot do all the good that the world needs. 

But the world needs all the good that I can do.”

~ Jana Stanfield, Youtube musician 

(from her song All the Good)

From news.un.org:

"May 5, 2023 / Health

The head of the UN World Health Organization (WHO) has declared 'with great hope' an end to COVIDD-19 as a public health emergency, stressing that is does not mean the disease is no longer a global threat.

Chapter Two, Episode 127 - Career Day - Situationally Theirs

Career Day

Abby loved her Auntie Cook. She never called her that out loud not even to her grandma. Only in the little diaries she had given her at Christmas each year. She was too shy to talk about it, and she knew that Auntie Cook wasn’t really her aunt. But she sure felt like she was. When the girls at school talked about all their aunts and uncles, she knew that she had one too. But she was puzzled about something else. When the girls at school talked about what they were going to be when they grew up she thought some of it was dumb. Ballerinas, nurses, secretaries, and even some that the boys didn’t even want to be. Policewomen or firefighters. She didn’t like any of those things. She liked dancing but only in her room by herself. Her brother, Ben thought she was being dumb. She didn’t want to be a nurse. “That’s too icky mom! Needles and blood! Yuck!” A secretary was just boring, sitting still all day in front of a computer. Doing somebody else’s letters. A policewoman! She’d have to wear a uniform and be tough. Ben just laughed when she told him she thought about it. “You would cry if you had to be tough! Grownups don’t cry at their jobs.” She told him, she didn’t want to anyway. And a firefighter?! That was the dumbest. Going straight into a fire! Getting all dirty and maybe dead! She wouldn’t mind saving a cat up a tree or on somebody’s roof, but the fire part was too dangerous. 

So she was puzzled. “I’m only seven years old. Why do I need to think about it now. I’m not even a teenager yet.” She closed her diary when she heard her grandma’s voice downstairs. Her mother was still at school and her grandma was coming to stay with them till her mother came home. She’d know what to do. 

~~~~~

Martha came bustling in the back door. “Hello, Ben. Are you just working on your homework?” She kissed him on the top of his head. “Don’t you ever comb your hair? Where’s Abby? I’ve brought some cookies with me from Cook....Yoo hoo! Abby! Come get some cookies before your brother eats them all.” She let Ben have one - he took two - and put them on the cupboard. She filled the teakettle and put it on to boil. “There you are, my Abby. Look at you, all neat and tidy. What’s wrong? You look worried about something.” Abby glanced at Ben and barely shook her head. “Oh, nothing.” Without looking up, Ben said “She’s trying to figure out what she wants to be when she grows up.” He got up, closed his books, grabbed two more cookies and was out the door before his grandma could stop him.

“Is that what’s wrong, dear? Why do you need to figure that out now?” The tea kettle whistled. Martha poured the water into the tea pot and got two of her daughter’s china cups out. “Let’s sit down and talk about it.” It seemed a big enough problem for her usually sunny granddaughter to be so worried. “So, do you know what you want to be when you grow up?” She poured them each a cup of tea. Abby’s had more milk in it than tea, with just a little sugar to sweeten it. “I do, grandma, but you’ll laugh. And I don’t know how to do it anyways, so it’s probably just impossible.” She took a cookie from the plate her grandma has returned to the table. “Well, tell me, anyway. If I think it’s funny, I will laugh. If I think it’s a good idea then we’ll figure out how you can do it.” Abby was silent for a long time. So Martha kept her council, sipping on her tea. In a quiet voice, Abby said. “A scientist.” Martha didn’t laugh, but she had no idea how she was going to handle this one. Her granddaughter was very serious about this. “What kind of a scientist, dear?” She decided to start with that. It could be the little one may not even know what a scientist does. She wasn’t sure she even knew. “Teacher had a scientist come to talk to us today. She said she was a botanist and told us all about plants and flowers and bees and butterflies and how the climate changing is killing them. She said it lots better than that but, but I decided that’s want I want to do.” She ate the last of her cookie. “We can’t have all those dying, grandma! Where would we get honey from? It really sounded sad, but she told us how we could protect them. But I want to know about it, and maybe I can help somehow.” Martha smiled at her granddaughter. “It is a big problem and you have lots of work ahead of you if you really want to be a scientist. Did you know that you have people here that can help you get started?” Abby's face lit up. She was sure her grandma would tell her she was being silly. “Who? Is there a scientist that lives here on the Estate?” Now Martha did laugh. “No, dear, but there’s two people here who know about bees and the apple trees. Have you ever talked to Samuel before?” Abby looked shocked. “That old man that looks after the garden?” Now it was Martha’s turn to look shocked. “He’s not that old, dear. Not much older than me.” Abby grinned. “Sometimes I think you’re old, grandma. But why should I talk to Samuel? He just works all the time in the garden.”  Martha gathered their teacups and the cookie plate with only crumbs on it. “I’ll start supper now for your mother. About Samuel ~ because he always works in the garden, and because Miss Dez set up beehives last summer behind the apple orchard, he knows about bees and butterflies and how the vegetable and flowers need them………….where are you going?” Abby had jumped off her chair and was running to the stairs to her room. “I’ll be right back. I just need to get something.”

~~~~~

The dishes all done, Martha sat down with her daughter Joanie. They had time for a quiet visit before James came for Martha. “It was good of James to let you stay for supper tonight.” Martha laughed. “He knows that he’d better not ‘let me’ do anything. We both were alone too long and have our own set ways.” Joanie smiled at her stubborn mother. “I know, mom. It’s just that James is a such good man. Now what else have my children been telling you. Any complaints about their mother?” Martha patted her daughter’s hand. “No complaints at all. They are just good kids. Abby did come to me with a big problem. She’s going to need some direction from you and a good pair of garden boots.” She went on to tell her of their earlier conversation, about science and how concerned Abby was. How she had raced upstairs and come down with a notebook to write down what to do. She’ll need some books you can probably help her with, much better than I could. I have told her that Samuel and Miss Dez may be able to give her first hand knowledge about plants, bees, butterflies, and apple blossoms.”

~~~~~ 

“Science and everyday life cannot and should not be separated.”

~ Rosalind Franklin, Chemist & X-ray Crystallographer

Old School

South Park School, Victoria B.C.

Old School

“Into the great……” Those were the words her English teacher had written on the chalkboard. It was Friday afternoon. Keeping her eyes on Miss Corman, their new teacher, Melody leaned over to her friend, Jasmine, and whispered. “What are we supposed to do with that!?” Quickly straightening up, she opened her notebook. Whispering angrily to herself, she said “We can’t even have our iPads or any kind of device in here.” She scribbled and doodled on the page hoping that the old biddy wouldn’t come down to her desk. Miss Corman had a bad habit of strolling between the desks and looking over everyone’s work. “Now class, take these three words home and write a story from them. Absolutely no changes.…and no excuses.” Melody tentatively put her hand up. “Miss Corman?” Her teacher stopped in mid stride and turned like she was in the military. “Yes, Melody?” Melody took a deep breath. “Umm. I actually have two questions.” Miss Corman’s already prune face, tightened. Tapping her foot she said sternly “Well, if you had let me finish you may already have your answers. Your story will have to be fifty words longer than the rest of the class.” She spun on her heel and returned to the front of the room. “Melody, your story is to be 300 words; for everyone else, 250 words. Stories must be turned in on Monday. English class is Monday morning and I don’t want to hear any excuses for late or missing stories.” 

“You can make anything by writing.”

~ C.S.Lewis

Author's note:

Old School: 250 words

Melody will have to figure out 50 more words!

Jack Mackenzie and Misty

Jack Mackenzie and Misty

It was chilly. Jack Mackenzie shivered and turned up his collar. He dug his leather gloves from the  pocket of his cashmere dress coat, glad he thought to bring them with him. And his hat. Glancing around him, he hoped no one would see him. It was an old hat, one that his mother had made him. Pompom, ear flaps and strings that hung loosely. He’d had it since Grade 12 when it was cool. Ordinarily it was tucked up in a box in the trunk of his car. Jack was in Regina for a political Premiers’ conference. He wasn’t the Premier. He was the assistant to the assistant to the assistant to the Premier of Ontario. A job he’d snagged right out of University. His boss had given him the night off. He decided to take the walking path around Wascana Lake from the Legislature. Half way around the lake, there was a big cement viewing area. He thought he would see what there was to see in his old home town. The lake glistened. The sun had broken through the clouds just as a Canada goose flew from Willow Island. He remembered some pretty interesting parties on that Island when he was in high school. Jack checked his watch. Supper time. His parents, still living in the Cathedral Area, were expecting him. Cabbage rolls, pirogues, mashed potatoes, ham and lemon meringue pie. He could almost smell and taste them from where he stood.

~~~~~

“So Jack, what’s it like out East. What’s got you so interested out there that we never see you anymore?” Stanley MacKenzie was pretty proud of his boy. He still called him a boy - Jack tried to correct him more than once, but gave up. Telephone calls didn’t deserve the argument. “Well dad  - ….Mom, you coming to the table? - I like my job. Pay's pretty good and I’ve got good benefits. The hours can be long sometimes, but my boss gives me whatever time off I ask for - unless it’s important policy issues.” He helped himself to more cabbage rolls. “Mom, you’ve outdone yourself again!” Caroline smiled. “Just leave room for the pie. It’s so good to have you home, Jack. I know I’ve asked you this before, but why are you so fascinated by all that political rigamarole? I’ve never understood it. I vote and I like to listen to some of it, but it’s so complicated.” She got up and began clearing their meal away, making room for the pie. “Keep your fork, dear. And you too, Stanley.”   

~~~~~

“Wow. That was so good, mom. I’ve had a lot of good food in Ottawa, but this is the best.” Jack sat back in his chair, eyes closed and holding his stomach. “Aaahhh - politics. Why am I so fascinated? There was only one reason. Remember our dog Misty?” His parents nodded. Misty had been with them for many years. Stanley came home with her when Jack was just two years old. “What about her, Jack? Misty’s been gone a couple of years now.” Stanley scooped another spoonful of the lemon meringue pie, despite a disapproving look from his wife. “Do you remember the issues that the city had about certain breeds of dogs. They were going to ban all pit bulls from Regina. Misty was only part pit bull. One of my friends, I think it was Tyler, said she’d have to be put down if the bylaw passed. I went to Mrs. Elliot, the principal and asked her if that was true. Long story short, she put me in touch with one of the councillors that was against the bylaw. I helped on the campaign and the proposed bylaw was voted down. I didn’t think much of it at the time. University classes made me start thinking and I remembered being really interested and here I am. So I owe it all to Misty and the knuckleheads that wanted her gone.” Jack checked his watch. “Dad, help me with the dishes. Mom, you sit here and have your coffee. I’ll have to get back to the Leg. in about a half hour, but we’ll clean up first. Dad, you bring what’s left of the pie and I’ll bring the rest.”

“To me education is a leading out of what is already there in the pupil’s soul.”

~ Muriel Spark, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie

At My Kitchen Table

Beginning this past Thursday, I attended a virtual writer’s conference. Settling myself at my kitchen table with a cup of tea - one day with my lunch. This was my first experience with this form of virtual learning. An opportunity to ask questions and make comments was provided on the ‘chat’ or ‘Q &A’ dialogue boxes. My comments were limited as my ability to listen and respond at the same time were challenged by this new to me format. 

An hour long event each day for four days, I was introduced to the Saskatchewan Writer’s Guild (SWG). Writing North 11: Sheltering in Place, Dwelling in Words was the theme of this very interesting virtual event. The importance of books and reading in this time of distancing and separation was discussed by the speakers, each with a varied focus. Each speaker gave this novice writer great information and ideas. All of the events were recorded and are on the Saskatchewan Writers’ Guild Youtube channel

 

“Reading is that fruitful miracle of a communication 

in the midst of solitude.”

        ~ Marcel Proust

Chapter Two, Episode Twelve - Educated - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update:

Missing last weeks review, I'm back at it today. The revisions I have made are changes in wording and are scattered throughout this episode. 

One major concern when writing an adolescent voice and grammar is that what I write is believable. Knowing few teenagers anymore, I don't know their particular lingo. Some of the wording changes I made are in the story Joey wrote.

Educated

Sixteen year old Joey Tucker was out of school ~ again. Only a few days before Christmas holidays were to begin, the government had closed the schools. An announcement had gone out via email that this was due to the recent increase of Covid cases. Reported in the news: “The Public Health officer will make another decision at the end of the three weeks.” His parents had on-line work to keep them occupied. None of his aunts, uncles, or cousins would be here for Christmas. He had done the homework he had been given. He had to stay in his family ‘bubble’ unless absolutely necessary. Flopping on his bed with his English poetry text, he tried to read. As much as he liked poetry, he couldn’t concentrate. Rain tapped against his window. “I wonder if we’ll get snow at Christmas.” Joey dozed off, his book dropped on the floor, forgotten.

Waking with a start when his email pinged, he scrambled for his device. Must be Steven. Joey rolled off his bed, excited to talk to his friend. They couldn’t hang out together, but at least they had video chats. It’s not Steven. Martha? He read further:

“Hello Joey, How are you? I hope all of your family are well. We heard that the schools are closed again and I wondered if you are able to come out to the Estate. Cook and I have taken care of any cleaning, but Samuel brought a tall spruce tree into the kitchen. We need it decorated. I know the restrictions are pretty tight right now, but the arrangements I’ve made with the rest of the staff should make it all right. All the decorations will be set out. Cook will have gone home, James and I will be back at our cottage. Samuel stays isolated all the time, never goes out so he’ll be in the kitchen with you so you’re not alone. Please speak with your parents to get their approval and get back to me. Thank you Joey, Martha.

P.S. You can bring your story with you. Just slip it under my door and I’ll get it to the Storyteller. M

~~~~~

“Damn! I forgot! I’ll go talk to mom and dad first.” Joey raced down the stairs. “Mom!” “Dad!”

“What is it, son!” His mother came out of her office “You sound so…so… excited? worried?” 

His father called from the kitchen “Come in here, coffee’s on so you can tell us what has you so worked up.” 

Joey told them about Martha’s email. They agreed that it would be alright for him to go out, not to forget his mask and make sure to wash his hands when he got there and before he left. The last instructions were from his mother, while his father smiled and turned aside. 

“Thanks, mom and dad. I have to email Martha….and I’ve got some writing to do.” Joey replied to Martha that he could come out the next day, and then sat at his desk to write.

~~~~~

Martha tells me it’s my turn to write you my story. I’m only sixteen, so I don’t have much to tell you. I’m an ordinary teenager who has had more time off from school than I ever could have imagined. I always thought that would be great, but it hasn’t been. It’s been boring. I often think of last summer when I got the job out at the Beaufort Estate. Schools were closed then, as they are now. I tried to get part time work mowing lawns or just handy work, but that was drying up. Steven (he’s my best friend) lives next door and we would sit on our driveways and jam. I play guitar and Steven, the keyboard. But even that got boring after awhile. So when Brigitte Smithson told me of a job opportunity out at the Beaufort Estate - a place I’d ridden my bike past many times - I jumped at it. It started out being just cleaning the top floor of the house, which was really not very intellectually stimulating but at least I had a great bike ride there and back. But the little ghost girl, whose name is Sarah, hundreds of years old, really threw me. I was ready to quit more than once because of her. Talking with Martha and Cook, I found out she had a crush on me. Freaky, right? They told me that I should get her doing all the heavy lifting and high dusting. She got bored with me and disappeared through a wall and I never saw her again. Then I met Samuel Forrester. That made my time out at the Estate very interesting. In school, I’ve had two interests. English Poetry and Biology. In our Biology classes, we discuss a lot of Environmental issues. That is really the part that fascinates me. Samuel Forrester, the gardener and yardman out at the Estate - you may already have his story - tells me about environmental issues in a very different way. From the ground up - literally. He has shown me that our food can be grown and harvested without all the insecticides and pesticides. It’s more work, but encourages the growth not just of the vegetables, but the helpful life in the soil and in the air. He talks of the birds and the trees as though they were more than just living beings, but living beings that are part of holding us all together. So my story will just get better with all that wisdom and humour Samuel has shared with me. Martha has asked that I come to the Estate to decorate their Christmas tree. I’ll get an opportunity to talk with Samuel again when I’m out at the Estate decorating the tree he brought in. I’ll have to ask him about the environmental value of cutting down a fully grown tree just for the kitchen. He’ll probably get quite a laugh out of that. I’ll leave this story with Martha. She’ll get it to you.

Joey re read his story. Corrected a few misspellings, folded it, put it in an envelope and propped it up against his computer. He put his head phones on and punched in Steven’s number. They talked for the next two hours all about the Estate, Sarah the ghost girl and picking apples in the summer. 

“I have never let my schooling interfere with my education.”

~ Mark Twain