Entering Civilization

Article Tools

Image Gallery

Print

E-mail

Comments

RSS

Fortunately, the North Shushwap Elementary School is a good one, and a caring staff encourages parental participation. Last year I helped with various activities, including the cross-country ski club. And Natalia had the chance to learn to play the clarinet. Eventually, she was accepted by the class, but it was mainly the required conformity above all else. Quietly, I watched the changes. In the bush practicality and comfort ruled and the kids were content to wear cast-off clothing. Now brand names infiltrate their psyches, and the frequent requests for fancy items puts a strain on my brain and budget. Other strains included viruses. Within a few weeks both kids—who almost never got sick—were on antibiotics.

Changing Habits, Not Values

Despite the changes, I have found that old habits die hard. Regularly I refer to the bathroom as the outhouse, and to the compost bucket as the chicken bucket. One night I woke up to what I thought was the glacier-fed wind whistling down the valley, carrying with it the scent of wolf packs. I opened my eyes and realized that it was a noisy truck on the road below our rented abode. After years of living in the bush down a rough foot trail three miles from anything resembling a road, I resented the intrusion. And through my window, from across the street, shone my neighbor's light. Being from the city she didn't feel safe sleeping without it. At night I craved genuine darkness.

Despite, or perhaps because of, my longing for the Ningunsaw Valley, I would snowshoe regularly through the woods and across the nearby golf course, seeking out the deer beds. Still I found a new strength unfurling.

Moving to civilization gave me a chance to learn how much I could do on my own. In addition to working through the transition of households, I replaced the flat tires of Ben's bike, assembled a bookshelf, and fixed Natalia's door when she got locked out of her bedroom. I paid the bills and managed our affairs, and even though I didn't know how we were going to survive financially, I learned that I could be organized and efficient.

This past spring I started a small garden on my mother's property. It was virgin sod, which I turned by hand, not far from the spine of rock that my great grandmother had piled when she pioneered here in the early 1900s. With growing enthusiasm I planned the layout, and later harvested small but healthy crops of peas, potatoes, beets, tomatoes, cucumbers, bell peppers, and other delectables. The climate here is much more hospitable than in the north, where frost could occur at any time of year. And no longer are huckleberries our main winter fruit. Here the apple, plum, and pear trees flourish.

RSS | Comments | E-mail | Print