And now for something completely different....

I write this on the off chance that it will be helpful or meaningful to someone else. It is a personal opinion and experience only.

By the time you have lived six decades, you might expect to have a set of ethics firmly in place, some useful life experience and maybe a little wisdom. These things are shaped initially by your parents. Mine came from two very different provinces and were raised in two very different circumstances, but both came to a life of faith as adults, so that faith formed the basis of our home and family life. Church attendance and involvement was primary and formed our religious as well as social life, and of course framed my moral and social ethic. I was the last of six, a large family, but not unusual for the time. I recall that I was an anxious child and I turned into an anxious adult.

Death is always an unwelcome and often unexpected visitor. I have often felt that it intruded on my life too soon. You expect that you will lose your grandparents, but not when you are a child. You know that you will lose your parents but not when you are 40. You do not expect to lose a sibling when you are in your 20's. These things shape your emotional life.

When my mother died, I had been physically caring for my parents for some time, and emotionally caring for her for much longer. It is hard to have your independent mom call you to ask if you will sleep over because she is scared. At the time I lived an hour away, worked full time and had young teenage boys. You cope because you need to. Her death was followed three months later by my father's. I found that I was tired always, and very emotional. I seemed to have no balance; crying or raging, no in between. Throw perimenopausal in there too. So the doctor prescribed an anti-depressant. Crying stopped and harmony resumed. Well maybe not. After a year or so, it began to occur to me that maybe all of this living was over-rated so wouldn't it be nice to just not wake up some day. I did realize that this was not a healthy way to feel so I weaned myself off of those pills.

The trouble is that although I felt re-energized and well for a time, it did not last. I ended up a weepy mess at the doctor once more and was prescribed an anti-anxiety medicine. It seemed a better fit but weight gain is a side effect and then you feel less well and less confident and, well there is a definite cycle. I went on and off this medicine several times but it was clear that my body could no longer balance itself without help. As well a stomach pill is in use and a blood pressure pill; not a positive pattern but all too common. 

I have also reached an age and a time in history, though maybe this has always happened when you reach a certain age, when new technologies and research are making everything that you thought was true and right, no longer true. What you thought was healthy to eat, isn't; what you thought was true historical fact, perhaps left some other facts out. Makes you wonder if you know anything at all for sure.

Enter into the conversation, marijuana. I knew that my children had a different opinion about its use than I did. I began to listen more closely and we had more open conversation about it. In the meantime, my sister-in-law and I had had conversation about it because her husband, my dear brother, has Lewy Body dementia and was living with terrible symptoms including frightening delusion and anxiety. When 'traditional' medicine, generally meaning prescribed pharmaceuticals, are not working, or the cost of the abatement of some symptoms, is the arrival of others, one can begin to set aside previous beliefs and be open to other options.

My previous mindset about cannabis was; 
    It is illegal. Huge road block for me given my religious background. You never do anything against the law, no matter what it is.
    It is a 'gateway' drug to harder substances. That is what was said, so I believed it.
    It was referred to as a 'recreational' drug, making its use sound frivolous, with no purpose except to feel a high.
   Because it is illegal, anyone who can provide it is doing something illegal and maybe I would be supporting the Hell's Angels or some other equally upstanding organization. It is dangerous for any link in the chain.
I am clearly a product of my very conservative background.

However, in my journey with anxiety, I am not happy with the present solution. I am on more medicine than I would care to be and feel like the only answer to ongoing issues is going to be more medicine in higher doses. In all fairness to my family doctor, he listens carefully and offered counselling from his office. He does not offer medicine without consideration, but those are the tools he has been trained to use. 

I found that most of the time I was calm and could respond in a calm manner, but there was a disconnect between what my mind was doing and how my body
was responding. I could sound and look calm, but have a knot in my stomach or tense muscles. I could feel panicky but not show it. If I was upset and cried, I was exhausted after it. I wondered what good the medicine was doing if I felt a false calm that did not extend to my body, and what long term damage might be going on.

So... as I may have vacillated for some time yet, my son provided some 'edibles' for me, chosen for a balance of the two cannabinoids THC and CBD, best suited for my set of symptoms. It was a bit weird to think of brownies and cookies in terms of doses of medicine and to only consume a small piece per day. I started with a quarter of a small brownie before bedtime. 

I felt immediately calm; my mind slowed down and was quiet, I was emotionally still, and my body was quiet, muscles all relaxed. It was extraordinary. My mind was not racing or obsessing. I could lay still. I felt emotionally quiet. I found that my lower back pain went away and most unexpectedly, the shortness of breath that I put down to allergies, disappeared. I was stunned to realize that many of these symptoms had more to do with stress and anxiety than I ever thought. The effect lasts all day so far and I have not changed how much I take. My husband and children have noticed a change so perhaps I was not coping nearly as well as I thought. 

I would never have thought that this would be a road that I would travel, and my results are subjective and not to be compared with anyone else's experience. I will though, continue down this path. I will also consult my doctor and talk about this, as well as how to safely stop taking some of my medicine. He may want to monitor and see results shown in my blood pressure, but I can do that. 

I share this experience and do not hide it because there are definite benefits to medicine that is not provided by big pharmaceutical companies. We are moving in a direction that will make some of these options more available, but the process is slow and cumbersome. There needs to be a balance in medicine between what is offered by pills, and therapies that have lasted centuries and produced results. I will step down from my soapbox now and simply be grateful for the care of my children, in providing a solution which is working for me.

Exploring an Urban Path

Lately I have been keeping a different schedule. My sweet daughter-in-law has returned reluctantly to her workplace, and I have been filling in the gaps at home with my grandson. It has been thirty some years since I had my last baby so I feel a trifle rusty. Babies now have all sorts of equipment that I don't even recognize; even the food is different! Thankfully babies behave the same way and need the same things, so we are finding our way.

(credit below 1)

Between naps and snacks we have been exploring the neighborhood. It is one of Brantford's oldest sections and contains some of its earliest buildings. When the weather is cooler, we will expand our explorations, but for now, we have confined our tour to a smaller radius. We often start at the Brantford VIA Rail station which is only a block away. In the morning there is usually a n engine shunting cars about with lots of satisfying banging going on, and then a VIA train arrives from Windsor heading east, and stops to pick and let off passengers,, which provides lots of loud announcements and general bustling about.

The station was finished in 1905 for the Grand Trunk Railway. Previously the Grand Trunk line which was laid from Niagara to Windsor in 1849, had its station in Harrisburg some miles away,because the city fathers did not offer sufficient incentives to bring the rail line through Brantford. It was over fifty years later that an agreement was reached to bring the mainline through Brantford.

Kitty-corner to the train station is a new bakery and visiting here is definitely going to require longer walks for me.

As we wander further up the street we find an Italian food restaurant tucked unexpectedly in this lovely building that was originally the parsonage of the First Baptist Church which is further up the street. It was built before 1875 but after 1852, according to the city maps.

Above the transom window which sits above the door, is a lovely stone keystone. The wide decorative moulding that arches down from it on both sides is called drip moulding and is supposed to deflect at least some moisture away from the door or window that it is installed above. There is a metalwork balustrade on the little balcony above the entrance.

The three wall gables have decorative metal finials on them which probably have some religious symbolism. Carved brackets support the gables and apparently there is a lovely herringbone pattern of brickwork under the present coating of white paint. According to the Heritage Inventory, the 1919 Fire Insurance Plan showed a slate roof and frame porch existed on either side of the brick front entrance. Must have been so lovely.

This little Regency Cottage was built before 1852 according to city records. The bricks on the walls shown here are laid in an irregular bond, which means that there is no pattern to the laying of the bricks. I read that this is required when using recycled bricks, so maybe that is the case here. It has however stood intact for a very long time and currently houses a sandwich shop. A permit was given in 1914 to a J.A. Taylor to build a garage on the property at a cost of $125.

This lovely old building in the Italianate style, was build as a residence by Dr. Peter Marter. It was featured as the home of A. Bunnell in the 1858 Tremaine's Map of the County of Brant. It was designated a Heritage Property for architectural and historic reasons.

In 1861 Sara Jeanette Duncan was born in this same house and a plaque, erected by the Ontario Heritage Foundation, now commemorates her literary achievements. Clearly an extraordinary woman of her time.

(credit below 2)

Although this home has served a very different purpose since 1917, its beauty remains preserved and unchanged.

I think the scrollwork trim on this roof is quite lovely and the mini spire at the peak of the gable is called a gable post. I don't speak fluent 'architecture'. This house is believed to have been built prior to 1852 and belonged for many years to Abram Bradley who with his business partner Asa Pursel, operated the Simcoe-Brantford Stage Line.

Apparently this gable trim can also be referred to as bargeboard, vergeboard or gableboard. Originally the end rafters, or 'barge rafters', extended beyond the wall, so bargeboard was a decorative way to cover the ends of these rafters. Who knew? The louvered window would have provided some ventilation to the attic.

The original single storey cottage was built before 1875. In 1894 Joseph Stratford, who was the brother of John H. Stratford, founder of the Stratford Hospital, added the tower addition to the building. Although the paint obscures some of the details, many are still obvious on this unique structure.

There are four gables on the roof, all of which are clad in hexagonal slates. Beneath the carved roof brackets is an ornate frieze panel that sits atop a row or course of brick set in a sawtooth pattern. The blind windows have beveled side edges and a course of sawtooth bricks underneath, and are just meant to mimic windows and provide a sense of symmetry to the structure. This home was owned by Thomas Secord, proprietor of Brantford Ice Co., and George Woolams, who was an Alderman from 1912-1915. 

This last little cottage is close to where my son and daughter-in-law live, and I have met the owner. The house was built prior to 1875 and has been carefully kept. The side yard is enclosed by a metal railing and contains a lovely garden with vegetables, flowers and fruit trees. The little Italian Nonna or grandmother who lives here, came to this country in 1950. She lived in a house across the street with a family who had eight children. Her father had left Italy for work in Pennsylvania, and her mother remained in Italy. When this little home came up for sale two years later, she was able to buy it with help from Italy. Her son now owns that first house. I asked her permission to take her picture and write a little about her on this blog. 'Blog' and 'computer' were not words that she is familiar with, but I wanted to pay tribute to this sweet neighbour with the courage to cross the ocean and make a home and a future here. She turns 90 next year.

There are more things to explore in this neighborhood, so my sweet boy and I will continue venturing out.

1 By Unknown - http://www.virtualreferencelibrary.ca/detail.jsp?Entt=RDMDC-PCR-222&R=DC-PCR-222&searchPageType=vrl, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?
curid=31589130
2 By Transferred from en.wikipedia to Commons. Transfer was stated to be made by User:YUL89YYZ., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3266821

Shapes and Patterns

Most conversations in Canada begin with a polite discussion of the weather so I will say that July in Southern Ontario has felt like high summer in South Carolina. Little rain and water restrictions mean that lawns are brown and gardens are stunted, but the weeds flourish. I have allowed a Queen Anne's Lace to grow in the front yard because I think it is beautiful, and I was curious to see what would happen. Well, it is as tall as the Rose of Sharon shrub that it sprouted beside, and is thick and gloriously blooming. Clearly 'wilder' is better. 

There was a nice breeze this morning so I decided to wander out. I wanted to see if I could find some helleborine and I had only seen it on one path so that is where I headed. This particular quest resulted from an unexpected find on my daughter in law's front lawn. We were armed with saws in order to cut down some saplings which the previous tenant had allowed to grow in unexpected places. When I gave a holler, I think Karen expected that blood might be involved, but, hidden in the clump of brush, I had found several helleborine plants. Being that I have seen these only twice before, and never outside the forest, I was naturally excited. And, on reflection, reminded that beauty is often found in hidden and unexpected places.

Helleborine is a non-native orchid species generally founds in deeper woods. It is also called Bastard Hellebore or Common Helleborine, which seems unkind for such a delicate and intricate plant. I also read that it can be invasive but decided that was wishful thinking.

Unfortunately there were no plants at the spot on the path where I saw them last, and apparently the call for fresh meat had gone out for my location, so it became prudent to leave before the entire mosquito population converged there. I did however, see several Red-Spotted Purple butterflies on the Japanese Honeysuckle enjoying some berries. Being that there are no red spots and the butterfly is basically black, the reason for this name is elusive. It is lovely though, no matter what it is called.

I thought about the myriad of forms that are seen in nature and how, as I walk, I use them to define what I see. Even if you remove colour, as unimaginable as that is, you could identify things just by their shape and pattern. 

The black line on the lower wing tells me this is a Viceroy butterfly and not a Monarch.

This unique shape and set of geometric patterns can only be Blue Vervain...

and these are aptly named Balloon Flower because the 'balloons' burst open into flower.

The beautiful pattern of delicate leaves identifies this as a locust tree. The interruption of the leaves by the three-pronged thorns, makes it a Honey Locust tree. The spines are red which hopefully one sees before being impaled, and were used as needles and nails in a previous time. Nature can be armed ... beware.

Just as shape and patterns help to identify things, changes in expected patterns draw your eye to look closer. Clouds are so often random in shape and quickly change with the wind, so when they form a more regular pattern, you are drawn to look and admire.

The mask of the raccoon gives away his hiding spot in the tree...

This cluster, called a Grape Filbert Gall catches the eye because it doesn't belong there.

Or these brown shapes that do not belong here! They actually decided not to clear off the road, so we drove slowly around them while they hissed.

Nearby there was a big tree with some odd growths on it that drew a second look....

turkey vultures gathered to roost for the night.

There are also seasonal patterns and shapes; things that you expect to see at a particular time of year. At this time of year flower forms give way to seed pods and fruit...

like the unusual pods on the Tick-Trefoil...

or the Barberry whose clusters of yellow flowers are now garlands of yellowish green fruits.

The fields are full of patterns, corn in orderly rows, mounds of soya beans in soft lines, and farmers mowing patterns as they harvest what is ripe. 

I wandered onto this subject because I had noticed that I was standing on the edge of what John Bunyan wrote of as the Slough of Despond in his book Pilgrim's Progress. This allegory was written a very long time ago and the word 'slough' is not often used today with this same meaning. 'Slough' pronounced 'sloo' like 'clue' or 'slau' like 'cow', and means 'a muddy bog'. Christian, the main character in the story, has fallen into this Slough of Despond and is left to wallow about until he receives help to get out. 

Help arrives and pulls Christian out of the slough, and then inquires how Christian got himself into trouble. Christian says that he was afraid and not looking where he was going, ..and how come the government hasn't fixed it or posted signs!! Help (that's his name), says well if you had looked more carefully there are steps to walk on, but your fear has lead you to this place that is filled with "many fears and doubts, and discouraging apprehensions". And Christian leaves, no doubt, quite chastened. 

I was thinking that I am most comfortable when my life follows a certain pattern, includes certain routines. Like coffee with a book, and in the summer, the porch..a forest path walk...time to take pictures..lots of quiet time. But life likes to interrupt patterns with things like unrelenting heat, a sore back, no walks. And you don't realize that your mood is starting to go sideways and you can't take the news in stride and I get fearful and have doubts about myself and the future, and then, Slough of Despond. I always expect that I am going to be a little wiser and see the pattern as it is forming, because it is nothing if not familiar, but it sneaks up on you. I don't think that I fell right in this time, but I would like to stay away from the edge too. 

So, now that I have seen the shadow, I will work a little harder despite the obstacles, to get in a walk, and sit on the porch and remember that Help is nearby.

And hold my grandbaby.

Older ramblings can be read here;

https://cathybeaudoin.blogspot.com/