Growing up and Growing older on Random Island
While out yesterday to drop off some tools to my sister, Annette, I saw a pickup go by that somehow reminded me so much of ones that Ross Smith used to drive. While he had big lane with a long road gong right down to his house, the truck was a staple diagonally across the […]
As Hurricane Dorian makes its way to hammer us here in Halifax, I got to thinking about broken windows and shutters and the like. And that led me to remembering our fall and winter preparation years ago. I can’t say I’ve really thought about storm windows and storm doors in years, but every fall without […]
The days and weeks move on as they always do, and while its still winter, it feels like its loosening some as March has made its way around again. Sated, Ralph leans back in the old rocking chair. Tired, but the good kind, a day spent out in the open, a fire, good friends, food, […]
The well worn leather traces creak as Bax’s old mare pulls the double slide in the long run. Ralph and Si sitting on an old bren full of hay for a seat, Bax up front giving the reins a flick now and then, though its not really necessary, the horse knows the path and routine […]
The house is on the side of a hill, a path climbing up to the well house. Rope clothesline hung between two huge old fir, propped up in the middle by a board sawed at the mill. “Ralphie! Si! You young devils! Get off that path with them slides, your gonna turn it all to […]
“Old Christmas Day.” thinks Ralph, “Years back we would be listening to see if the animals would talk, like the old timers said. Now I’m the old timer. Where does the time go?” He can’t move as fast as he once could, time and toil have made the joints and muscles slower than they were. […]
I visited home this past summer, and while our old house has changed with new occupants over the years, many things remained the same. One being Uncle Hay’s property. It was like stepping back in time for me, and on this Father’s day, I am maudlin thinking about those old times and how close him […]
If you’re familiar with Apsey Brook, you know that Roy Smith operated a sawmill business for many years. What you may not know is that Uncle Luther, Dad and Uncle Hay used to operate one too. It was mostly for personal use, but I do remember trucks coming occasionally and buying some lumber. You’d be […]
In our ever lasting search for a water supply that would last the summer, dad tried many things. In the summer of 1983, the year Keith had his accident, he and I dug a pipeline 660 feet through the woods, in the heat of summer, to a small brook that we somehow managed to get […]
When we were young, we could make a ball field, or hockey arena, pretty much anywhere. Across the road from Eric’s house there was a field, with some large rocks arranged in a rough diamond. Though pretty small, we’d often play ball there, especially when we only had a few people as the small size […]
London Day 2
The Sawmill