This entry, I fear, will be neither dramatic nor particularly well-written; but if I don't do it now, I probably never will.
And so ... this will be a long one, but not quite so long as it might have been. If you're interested, Gentle Reader, then .
I was a bitch-goddess from hell last Tuesday, Day 4 of Not Smoking having turned me into a petulant, selfish bastard only just holding things together.
Laura had wanted to attend a drum circle at Trinity-Bellwoods Park (see "one of my earliest lj entries" for what I think of pois), where she intended to meet with some of her friends in an orgy of psychedelics and fire-play, and then drive North Wednesday morning.
Fortunately for my sanity and, possibly, our relationship, she sensed my distressed and suggested we skip the poi and head up that night. Relieved (and grateful) beyond words, I agreed and we hopped a streetcar to my place, where we made desperate love, then packed up and headed out onto the highway, arriving at my mum's around 11:00 at night.
My mother , bless her, largely eschewed the jokes about my cradle-robbing tendencies and welcomed Laura with literally open arms. We settled in on her porch and talked, Laura and my mother getting to know each other, while we all awaited the coincidental arrival of my brother and his daughter.
(Nuala was strangely camera-shy that weekend, though she didn't mind taking pictures of her own.)
But, nascent camera-bug I seem to be becoming, I digress.
None of us hit the sack until close to dawn, Laura and I attempting to share a couch on the porch, desperately aware of my neice sleeping across the wall in the living room. I ended up on the floor, partly for comfort, partly because that was the only way we could keep our hands off one another.
The next day, we found ourselves driving the rented beast
into town and hitting a Canadian Tire, where instead of paying $200 for a tent, we found a brilliant little number for $40, which served us very well indeed. Idiot-proof (though Laura was there, so it wouldn't have much mattered if it wasn't), it required only a quick perusal of a the instructions to set up, which we did a 15 minute hike from my mum's, which might as well have been a day into the woods.
Christ, the bush ...
I moved to Sudbury in 1973. Technically, we were within city limits, but only just. Our back yard stretched (and still does) onto Crown land that doesn't stop until you hit Georgian Bay, maybe 100 kilometres to the south. In between are ancient mountains, ground down by 3 billion years of weather (that's right, billion - the Canadian Shield is one of the oldest mountain ranges in the world) and lord knows how many glaciations, ragged forests and small lakes. I call it God's Country, because on it I feel perhaps as close to a spiritual being as it is possible for me to be.
Forgive me for providing a few examples.
(A view from our tent.)
All right, enough rhapsodising about the landscape.
Unless I was to write and very long, and probably more boring, novel, there isn't a great deal to tell.
We spent four glorious days up there, and never mind that we saw the stars only on our last night; never mind that it rained on us every night but that one.
Laura and I both knew that four days in intense company with one another was a major test - and I am happy (happy? Hell, I am ecstatic!) to report we didn't once irritate one another, despite my tendencies towards lecturing like a nutritionist and babbling like a verbal diarhetic.
We went for drives, we went for walks, we made love on the forest floor, we hung out with my mum and my brother and my niece and with sundry great uncles; we made a fire and roasted marsh-mallows and ate (forgive me - it was Laura's idea) Beefaroni; we picked blueberries; and we laughed more than I have laughed in a very long time.
Basically, I think it safe to say that "a (very) good time was had by all", and I know how that can make for dull reportage.
- My brother Tom and I may have finally put aside our childhood demons; not once did he push my buttons, nor I his. Instead, we talked - politics, philosophy, kids, love and family. He got me interested in his work - a largely self-educated cab-driver (well, two years of university), he is working on what will prove to be either an important piece of political-economic analysis or another crank's "analysis". He is smart and sane enough that I am betting on the former;
- Laura proved herself even more remarkable than I had already thought she was. She has an intense curiosity and a willingness to listen when she doesn't have anything to say; she let Tom and I go at it and only interjected when she did, in fact, have something to contribute. That's a quality upon which I pride myself and it is a joy to see it in someone else - especially someone I have come to care about so deeply; and
- finally, it's kind of nice to re-encounter vital great uncles of 79 and 89, both still active and involved with life - makes me think that, maybe, my self-styled characterization as "young" isn't quite as hubristic as I sometimes fear it is.
And so, that's it. I'm back, re-energized if not reborn and - I hope - my next entry will prove more interesting than this one.
I'll leave you with a couple 'more pictures, just because I'm so sweet on her.
And that's all folks - time to catch up on the rest of you.