The little tree that grew

If you were a child attending school in Western Canada in the ‘60s, you probably came home one day with a little evergreen sapling to be planted in your yard.

I remember the one I received. It was about six inches high with one or two little side branches and appeared to be closer to death than life. It was relinquished to the basement on the cool, damp floor until someone had time to help me plant it.

About a week later my mother took pity on me. We chose a suitable spot in the yard and followed the directions, digging a hole, forming a cone-shaped pile of dirt in the bottom, setting the sapling on the dirt and filling in the hole with more dirt. My assignment was to water the little thing every day, which I did faithfully.

By the following summer there was faint hope that the seedling might survive. Then came autumn, when a propane fill was ordered to provide our winter heat. As the big truck backed up from filling the tank it went a little too far, and as I watched I was sure my little tree would be crushed to the ground.

As soon as the truck left, I ran out to check. There stood my tree, totally unharmed. On each side of the trunk was a tire track. It had gone between the dual wheels!

One summer as I watered my tree I noticed an abundance of bugs, probably aphids, crawling over its branches. I told my mother, who promptly introduced me to the insecticide Malathion and how to apply it. It killed the insects and my tree again survived.

When it had reached about three feet in height, something happened to the top branch. One of the side branches began to grow upwards, and after a few more seasons the damage was undetectable.

I still look at my tree each time I visit the home farm (above photo taken 2011). But now I look up to its towering stature. It reminds me of pleasant memories and bygone days. It is still regarded as Edith's tree.

Supporting a mobile lifestyle

Since the title of this blog site is “Of work and travel in a mobile lifestyle” and my latest blogs have focused on the travel aspect, this time I will describe the work by which my husband and I are able to continue to be full-time RVers.

Throughout the summer much of our time is taken up in yardsitting. We have friends who travel quite extensively and like to know their acreages are secure, the mail picked up, garden tended and the lawn mowed while they are away. We park in the yard and enjoy the quietness and scenery while tending the yard in exchange for power and water for our RV. We try to make the labour a fair exchange for what we save in camp site fees.

Last summer we did a similar stint for a lovely couple we met through www.housecarers.com, the same web site through which we found our winter housesitting arrangement. Currently, our 2012 schedule is fairly booked until mid- August.

Our yardsitting and camping radius is within an hour’s drive from Red Deer. That enables me to commute to my regular job in Red Deer. There I work at the Red Deer Advocate. Four days of the week involve data entry of display advertising bookings and creating “dummies”, the first step in producing a newspaper. On the fifth day I head to the newsroom, where I post the stories from the newspaper to the Advocate web site and upload pictures taken by the photographers to the online photo store. The procedure is routine but the interaction with coworkers about the issues of the day is stimulating. I often describe my work as “I play on a computer and read the news. What’s not to like?”

My work day is similar to other employees, but home is not always in the same direction and I don’t have to pack up to “go camping”. When vacation time comes there is little preparation necessary to be ready to take to the road. The biggest decision is which direction to travel and for how long. Vacation is really just different scenery while staying at home.

As we travel to and fro, time passes quickly. It is hard to believe we are headed into the third summer of our dream!

Your autograph, please...

In my quest for blog ideas in the midst of writer's block, I found one written when I was sorting and downsizing in preparation for RV life. In light of the fact that I just had another birthday, this warrants another glimpse into the past.

Today I uncovered an old treasure. It may have been a Christmas gift because many of the entries were dated in late December. It was full of names from my childhood. Page after page, I recognized the handwriting of so many people who are no longer part of my life. It was a reminder of a time when every kid had an autograph book, along with a repertoire of rhymes to use when writing in their friends’ books.

Wikipedia describes the autograph book as “a book in which one collects the autographs of others. Traditionally, these books would include small pieces of verse, personal messages, poems and drawings from one’s friends. Yearbooks, friendship books, and guest books are modern derivations.”

The fun started on the cover:

      “You have room for your friends, you have room for your lover,

        But poor little me has to write on the cover.”

The pages were of various pastel colours, and one writer had sought out a blue page. She wrote, “May you never be the color of this page.”

Some of the entries were cute and catchy:

      “Snow on the mountain, sun can’t melt it.

      I like you, I can’t help it.”

      “I wish I were a bunny with a little tail of fluff,

      I’d hop up on your dresser and be your powder puff.”

      “Piggy, piggy, up a tree,

      Pull its tail and think of me.”

Other writers used the opportunity to give advice:

      “In your golden chain of memories, please consider me a link.”

      “When the golden sun is setting in the west

      And this earth you no longer trod,

      May your name in gold be written

      In the autograph of God.”

      “Help a friend in trouble but remember all the while

      What you do counts double if you do it with a smile.”

An entry by my grandmother, written in her immaculate handwriting, caught my attention:

      “Labour for learning before you grow old,

      For learning is better than silver or gold,

      For silver and gold will vanish away,

      But a true education will never decay.”

Then there were the P.S. entries written below the person’s name:

      “Yours ’til I.D.K.”

      “Yours ’til the ocean wears rubber pants to keep its bottom dry.”

      “Yours ’til Great Bear Lake has cubs.”

Even the back cover was not left out. “By hook or by crook I’ll be last in your book,” was followed by, “By ham or by bacon you’re badly mistaken.”

There was no deep meaning to most of the content, no elaborate graphics to enhance the page. Certainly none of the writers thought the book would be kept for so long.

For a few minutes, I revelled in memories of friends and family and their trivial entries in a young child’s autograph book.