The sun is shining, and my head is spinning. There is so much to do. There is nothing I must do. Yes, the winter and I have always been partners in every decision and job required, as far as looking after cattle and the outside work, no matter what Mother Nature threw at us. I must admit I do like outside work, but my body has rebelled, so I have backed off and let My Hero take his time and abundant energy to work and enjoy what was his dream in the beginning. I have made it my purpose and my sense of obligation for forty years. My Hero started doing all the chores after retiring a couple of years ago. I felt lost. As if my sense of purpose was missing.
I am absolutely loving the choices I have now. No need to worry about My Hero. I am here if he needs me, and he knows that. There is no real agenda in my life except what I have chosen to do myself. What a great gift this has become. Raised as the oldest child in a very full house, I was always busy. And then odd jobs through my teens, then working as a fulltime, farmer had me try to fit in the gaps with things that I liked to do. I did very well. I never really slept and had an extraordinary amount of energy. My Grandma used to worry and shout out, “Someday she is just going to collapse running around like that.” She would be happy to know I am still busy, still standing, and full of energy and ideas most days. I am not a runner now, mostly a slow walker.
The point of this story is that just when you worry and fret about something, there is always a side that turns up that is different and something you never knew you needed.
My Hero is back in the hardwood bush, dropping trees. Oh, so many trees. It is heartbreaking. When we bought the farm at an auction sale over 46 years ago, the thing that made us so excited was the vast fields and the hardwood stands of trees that lay at the back of the farm. Every kind of tree that I ever imagined is back there.
Exploring is what I did. After the chores, or just anytime that I wanted, or needed peace mixed with a calming sense of belonging while surrounded by incredible beauty, I would head out into the densest part of the trees. I would sit for hours and just let them take care of me, and I would promise to take care of them. A promise both My Hero and I have tried our best to do. They gifted us with wood for the fire. with planks for building repairs, and always the beauty and protection from the sun and clean air.
There are forces we had no control over, windstorms, where many times the tallest and strongest of trees fell to the ground. Wildlife that needed their bark for survival often ended the life of trees, especially the Beech trees. The scary one that has hit us the last few years, and I have to say has decimated the cycle of the Ash trees, is the Emerald Ash Borer. This tiny yet beautifully shaded emerald predator has destroyed the Ash trees in areas all around us. It is too late to rewind the damage.
As I was saying, My Hero is back dropping, the trees that are still standing but dead. This is so they will not fall and do more damage to other trees or anyone back there. You cannot ship the lumber outside the area, so we are lucky we burn wood. It is a gift we never wanted, but on those frigid winter nights, I appreciate it.
Today, I had a huge burst of energy like my grandma used to worry about. I was not back helping My Hero. I was in the house, taking care of other interests and the things that I suppose one should do when they are retired and bored.
I, as you know, have always been a blogger and writer and then, since 2022, an author, but I needed more. I jumped into the world of paintbrushes and canvas. I am having so much fun and meeting new people.
This very morning, while My Hero is back, knocking down trees. I have made a huge pot of chili for when he makes his way back up. I have two paintings on the go with paintbrushes and ideas pouring onto a couple of canvases. I am close to finishing this column, which, an hour ago, was not in my head.
I do believe I have found my purpose, and that energy I used to use running is keeping me busy without the running.
Grace Vanderzande is an author, a chief cook, and the bottlewasher. An amateur painter, a columnist, and is so lucky to have the time to pick up anything she wants to explore. My Dad used to say. “Because I can.” Now, I understand what he meant. No use wasting good energy. I am off to check on that tree knocker-downer, farmer. It is getting late. Thank you.