Rain Boots

I'd been looking for a pair of suitable gardening boots for more than six months, without success: Either the boots were too expensive, too heavy, too sloppy, or too unworthy of the natural beauty of a garden setting.

Gardening boots, even at most bargain stores ranged in price from $35 to $85, more than I was prepared to spend for footwear that failed in one or more of the other three categories.

I've found that a lot of gardening boots are very heavy, truly cumbersome in their weight, even in the store; and, try as I might, I couldn’t help imagining how much heavier the boots would be when weighed down by the gooey mud of spring.

Finding boots for myself that aren’t too sloppy has always been a problem. I have very narrow feet, in that I’m the product of a dad who wore size 13 A-width shoes with a triple-A heel. I also blister easily, so sloppy footwear of any kind is something I try to avoid.

To my mind, boots that are unsuitable to a garden setting would be: plaid or argyle patterned; branded with advertising; anything camouflage; decorated with zippers, chains or studs; and geometric, paint splatter or leopard printed. I’m also not really into cutesy animal themed boots; although, I could envision them on children.

Sensing my frustration, my sister suggested that I expand my search and check out Value Village; and, though I hate the idea of wearing footwear previously worn by strangers, I knuckled under and gave it a go.

Imagine my surprise, when the first time I looked in the shoe department at my local VV boutique, I found the perfect pair of rubber gardening boots. They were, in fact, the only rubber boots in the entire store, and they filled all four of my boot buying criteria.

These perfect boots were totally affordable at $7.99, very light-weight, unbelievably narrow, and a garden-worthy basic black. I was so excited, I could barely contain myself!

So, now with the rubber boots of my dreams safely stored in my hall closet, I’m so ready for spring that the wait is intolerable. Each time I take my coat out of the closet, the rain boots almost seem to mock me with imagined taunts that gardening weather will never arrive.

Nevertheless, I remain optimistic that spring is truly just around the corner, and that happy productive and sustainable gardening is only a few weeks away.

For this reason, I'm delighted to finally have comfortable garden-worthy rain boots at the ready. Their presence will offer me the ability to brave the elements in the coming months, no matter how soupy the conditions in the garden.

The 2nd Year

Two years ago today, I began writing this blog; and, for me it has been an incredible journey.

During this second year, I've continued to reflect upon personal experiences that illustrate my views on community and world events, by writing about:

• my vision for a more inclusive Canadian national anthem [Inclusive Oh Canada]
• the mutual benefits of [Feeding Pollinators] and providing habitat for insects who rely on our reciprocity
• my concern about inadequate Ministry of Transportation examinations [MOT 80+ Testing]
• a picture-postcard moment in Dalvay-by-the-Sea, PEI [Darling Dalvay], and
• the troubling logistics of the CP Holiday Train [CP Holiday Train]

I've also continued my quest to recognize ordinary people who do extraordinary things, or people in general who make unexpected contributions, by profiling: 

• a prolific and gentle gardener [Mighty Gardener]
• the iconic proprietors of a neighbourhood business [Wear's Flower Girl]
• a courageous and outspoken polio survivor [Great Courage]
• a generous couple who shared their gardening prowess [Bowled Over]
• a chance encounter with a Star Trek icon [Rodenberry's Reply]
• my quirky dad [Father's Day], and
• a special memory honouring the 100th birthday of Hollywood icon, Kirk Douglas [G.I. Joe's Peg Leg]

Unexpectedly, my blog became a special place to honour memories of four beloved people who left positive impressions on my life, including:

• my Cousin Jim [My Cousin, My Friend]
• my Uncle Bruce [Music and Memories]
• my Grandad Hunt [My Grandad], and
• my Grampa Macdonald [Grampa Macdonald's Peony]

And, I wrote about everyday events that inspire recognition, including: 

• the great knowledge that can be gleaned from a small child's observations [You Don't Get Upset]
• the surprising luminosity of Lupines [Luminous Lupines]
• how snow and snow people take the sting out of winter [Snow]
• the resilient growth of a Dracaena that inspires me when I'm feeling down [Life in the Palm], and
• how "six more weeks of winter" actually means that spring is, "just around the corner". [Groundhog Day]

Last year, on this day, I remember worrying that a relatively small average of only 1.5 posts per month was somehow inadequate: I mused whether more prolific posting would have interfered with quality.

During this second year, I've come to believe that my ability to produce a more significant average of 2.75 posts per month speaks rather to better honed observation skills, and more familiarity and practice with the entire blogging process.

Moving forward, I accept that the verdict as to quality versus quantity will ultimately come from you, the reader; therefore, it's my responsibility to continue providing the best quality posts, no matter how often I post. This is an inspiring challenge, of which I'm happy to accept.

I believe that I've found my voice, my focus, my formula, and a small but loyal following. I couldn't ask for a better way to head into year three, and I thank you for being part of my blogging journey.

Laura Ingalls Wilder

My Treasured Little House Books

Today marks the 150th anniversary of the birth of Laura Ingalls Wilder, who's semi-autobiographical family memories became the famed Little House on the Prairie series of books.

Early in my life, Ingalls Wilder’s collection was the influence I credit as my introduction to literature; therefore, I look upon this sesquicentennial with much fondness.

Perhaps that’s why, rather than stress about recent online discussions about a posthumous revelation that Mrs. Wilder's books were likely written in collaboration with her uncredited daughter, author Rose Wilder Lane, I chose to embrace the idea of the mother-daughter partnership.

I acknowledge that Ingalls Wilder likely provided the trove of memories, a beautifully descriptive story-telling style, and a true sense of what she wanted to say; while her more experienced writer-daughter enhanced the winning story structure, edited out sad or inappropriate details that would have made the books less inviting, and guided her mother into the world of publishing.

I also believe that Ingalls Wilder’s descriptive memories of pioneering life, with all the inherent historical bias, might never have been published had not her daughter pushed her to write in the first place, and demand excellence once rough drafts showed progress.

That said, it’s unfortunate that Wilder and Lane felt the need to keep their partnership hidden from editors, publishers and readers: For, while Ingalls Wilder's story writing skills, confidence and accolades appeared to grow as the series progressed, Lane apparently came to regret the decision to keep her involvement hidden during the writing and publication of the books.

Many, including myself, believe that On the Way Home, the final book in the Little House on the Prairie series, to be pure Laura: Published after Ingalls Wilder’s death with a short epilogue by daughter Rose, it gave readers an illuminating glimpse into the simplistic yet poignant writing style of Laura, herself. It's my idea of a fitting conclusion to the Ingalls Wilder and Lane family saga.

Laura Ingalls Wilder, a strong-willed woman who's pioneering spirit would live on in the heartwarming literary excellence she’d create with her equally talented daughter, was born on this day in 1867. I believe this to be a sesquicentennial worth honouring.

Groundhog Day

Groundhog Day has always been my favourite day of the year: Prognostication aside, I just love knowing that spring is only 6 weeks away.

I'd prefer, though, that the groundhog in question be figurative rather than literal. I hate the idea of a sleepy frightened rodent being rudely awakened just to gauge sunny or cloudy skies.

Perhaps the live groundhogs, employed during traditional Groundhog Day celebrations, could be replaced by virtual groundhogs who would see or not see their shadows dependent on local weather conditions ... sort of a new and improved Groundhog Day!

After all, it matters little if a groundhog sees it's shadow or not. February 2nd is, and always will be, exactly six weeks from the first day of spring.

So, let sleeping groundhogs lie, so to speak. Hibernating rodents know so much better than we, that the proverbial "six more weeks" means that spring really is "just around the corner".

I know it's true! A figurative groundhog told me so.