I’ve been away, and there will be more on that soon I think. But before I jump back into the swing of things here, I have something that I’d really like to acknowledge on this blog.
On July 13th, my great uncle, Aaron, passed away. It will, in my mind, always be his farm that we are living on. I am incredibly grateful that we got to move in while he was still well. Though we didn’t spend as much time with as I now wish, I’m happy that recent months allowed me to reconnect with him, and my husband to get to know him through visits to the barn.
You can see Aaron’s obituary here through the local newspaper’s website. But here is a small sample of other important things I know:
- I was the lucky kid who made Aaron a great-uncle.
- He called me Pebbles when I was tiny. I’m not really sure why. I loved it and love it still.
- When I was a kid he offered me a LifeSaver from his shirt pocket every time I saw him.
- Christmas at his house was always spectacular.
- I think he was happy to have us here in this little house.
- He was looking forward to my chickens laying eggs.
- He had a great, quirky, teasing sense of humour.
In illustration of the above two points, I’ve just been told that he had a little plot in mind. Our hens aren’t laying yet, which he well knew, though he liked to ask as frequently as he saw us (hmm… he could tell we are impatient). He told my auntie Muriel that he intended to sneak an egg into one of the nesting boxes and see what we thought of THAT!
The day Uncle Aaron was taken to the hospital was July 1st. A statutory holiday in Canada, I was home and tidying up my living room that morning when I saw him turn the tractor into “my” driveway, which goes to the barn. For whatever reason, I was suddenly inspired to fling open the window, lean way out, and wave. He smiled and waved back. It is difficult for me to explain the sense of connection I feel here, but that moment both encapsulated and enhanced it.
It was a gift, as bright and sweet as the LifeSavers. Thank you.