Secwepmec Gothic – Hand Saw

"Welcome to my new office."

Bonnie and I took a walk on the road that has been graded and caped with gravel.

She has travelled the road before.

This was my first time.

Outloud, I was admiring the side of the road that has been brushed.

I was admiring the ditching, surprised that the water can now continue to the bottom of the hill – no pooling along the way.

I was admiring the gorgeous new view that has been opened up. 

And most of all I was admiring and curious about the thin line of smoke rising from Marcia’s property.

So much of the brush is gone that we could see a small figure beside a fire. Knowing it could only be Greg we approached. He called out, “Welcome.”

It wasn’t long before he was explaining to us how he keeps the fire going.

He has a large circle of rocks there – each probably more than 2 feet by 2 feet, and irregular in shape (which is what give the circle such beauty).

Because I love rocks, even moving rocks, I spent a long time admiring the ones the circle his firepit.

Inside of the rocks is a circle of stumps, all sitting about 2 ½ feet high. They are drying out, he says. After a day or two by the fire, they can be split and he puts new logs there to dry out. Inside of those round logs, he has his twigs and sticks burning, fueled by a torch from the outside propane tank.

There is a crackling sound as they burn. I get closer, but I can’t feel the heat. I think to myself, no use bringing tofu-furters up here for a party.

"May I hold your hand saw", I ask,sensing
a good photo shot with a nod to American Gothic.

“I have to keep putting twigs on top of the fire and occasionally pushing it down to keep it going,” Greg said, giving us a demo. “I am going to get as much burning done as I can before I leave for Calgary on Friday.”

I asked if we could take a picture.

“Sure,” he said, posing beside the fire.

The lot has a breathtaking view which I enjoyed for as long as I was there.

It looks so good because Paul Vike pulled out the large stumps when he was here with his bull dozer.

And it looks good because Greg is doing all of that burning. And it looks good because it just is good.

"I cut each of the roots off before
throwing the stump in the fire."

Thinking to begin our walk back home, we heard sounds from the lot to the south of us, which is also above us.  

High-south. 

Thinking it was Shauna and David calling to us, we walked up to their home, only to find it was them out walking their dogs. 

... piece by piece into the fire ...

They weren’t calling to us at all.

So curious when the dogs run to us. I take a firm stance with my feet because if it is going to be dog-bumps-human, I am going to go flying.

But the largest dog stops a few feet ahead of me, his tongue hanging out, dripping and panting for approval.

The huge dog can be outrun by the little mutt who is only 18 inches high and he circles me a few times, probably a victory run for the large slow dog to see.

We visit for a while with the younger Pilling couple.

David’s lot was brushed three years ago and now the undergrowth is over three feet high and continuing to climb upward.

“I am going to have to rent a brush saw next year,” he said, “so I can maintain our view.”

David and Shauna had not been calling our names, we found out. 

They had been calling their dogs. But it was hard to tell over the crackling of Greg’s fire, and the rumbling of the CPR. 

Arta

Fall Burn

Alice with a board covered in mushrooms.

Dave Wood checked the burn index on Friday and found that it was in the range of allowing a fire in the burn pile.

Michael, Alice and Betty had been on the land for the burn pile in April so it was no surprise to them now to feel the heat of the fire, nor to try to throw yet another pile of sticks into the centre of the flames.

They did check out the flume that picks up the water from the stream on the lake side of the road.

This is in the same vicinity as a tree house that is as old as any structure on the property.

Betty standing off to the side of the fire.
She doesn't really want to have too much heat.

For many minutes they tried to clear away the debris at the bottom of that tree house.

Now the area is covered in old sticks and stairs that have fallen from the trees.

At one point Uncle Dave even came into the forest to help us move trees and stumps so that we could drag that wood up to the burn pile as well.

LtoR: Alice, Betty, Dave Wood, Adam Wood, Richard Johnson

It would appear from this picture that the only person really interested
in working on the fire is Dave Wood.

We are always well into the fire before we remember that now would be a good time to have a hot dog roast.

Or even a marshmallow roast.

Our famous last words are, maybe next time.

Michael trying to figure out why there is so much concern about the burn pile
and so little concerned about getting good board games going.

Dave Wood, Adam Wood and Richard Johnson took turns fanning the fire to get enough oxygen to it.

Dave started by using a piece of plywood to fan the fire.

When he ran out of muscle strength, Adam took over.

Finally all three men rigged up a leaf blower, an electrical chord and a tripod to hold the leaf blower.

Nothing like using the tools at hands to make work lighter.

Arta

The Ultimate S’More Cook-Off

The Ultimate S'More Trophy

Tonight was the Ultimate S’More Cook-Off Party.


Families have been gathering at the Bates night after night, practicing for this moment.

The prize was a gold-wrapped marshmallow stick springing from a silver vessel, a trophy to be desired and sitting on a table for all to see.

Supplies have been purchased at No-Frills and at the Bulk Barn, each time with even more thought and acumen, knowing that this night was about to happen.

There were two sets of judges, a younger set and an older set.

The Challenge Begins

The latter had pens and paper in hand, as did the younger set, who were to give marks out of 10.

That was only possible for the first contestants, but soon the younger set of judges were giving 20’s and 100’s and soon thousands for the presentation of the s’mores that were passing their way.

... 3 intense marshmallow roasters ...

The older judges were Art Treleaven, Glen Pilling and Laynie Hicks.


Their job was to taste each S’More, judging quality of ingredients, quantity of ingredients and quirkiness.


The night wore on as individuals from all age categories were toasting their marshmallows to perfection and then building the s’more of their dreams.

...judging and eating a s'more at the same time ...

When the party was all-in, the judges went to confer in the house, looking at pictures that had been taken and tallying marks.

The winners were Michael Johnson, Teresa Oldham, Annalisse Bates, Alice Johnson, Zoe Bates, Tonia Bates, Marcia Bates, Ezra Bates, Ivan Bates, Senya Bates, David Camps-Johnson and his friend, Connor.

The categories included the sweetest s’more, the fluffiest, the tallest s’more and the best presentation of a s’more.

There was also a category for the s’more illustrating nepotism (Zach who built his out of a dad’s cookie).

... the ingredient table ...

This was a serious contest with marks being carefully calculated.

Tonia won for a category which I can’t remember but I do know she had her prize withdrawn for being a teacher, which, with slumped shoulders, she sadly acknowledged as true.

The ultimate prize went to Gabe for delivering the most influence to the judges. I asked what that was all about.

Someone answered that he kept bringing them drinks of water.

Little Alice was afraid to enter.

I went to the ingredients table and brought her a wide selection so that she could at least taste what might have gone onto a s’more, if she had had the courage to make one.

Maybe next year.

And thus endeth another of the best parties ever.

... starting to build a s'more ...

...

I heard Graham say, “no other family has parties like these”.

I don’t know if he was referring to the decadence of the ingredients, to the spontaneity of the laughter at many moments, to the inter-generational character of the attendees, to the hours of repartee over the selected ingredients, or to the intensity of the participation.

As the party closed I heard Jeremy say, “I can’t believe no one built a s’more out of ice-cream”.

Now there is an idea for next year.

... Michael getting first feedback from Glen about his s'more ...

... judge taking careful data ...

 

Judge #2, Art Treleaven inspecting s'more

Oh yes, the judges were in agreement.

 Next year they are stepping down and letting a different set of judges taste that many s’mores.

Enough is enough.

 

Laynie takes a bite and prepares to give careful feedback to Michael.

In the background, Graham wonders how the judges will hold up
to the amount of sugar they are eating.

Secwepmc: Lands and Resources / Law Resource Project

Secwepemc: Lands and Resources

We are missing Rebecca for many reasons, one of which is that she read a story every day from Secewpmc: Lands and Resources / Law Resource Project.

 We got to hear a Secwepemc story and then hear how the story was briefed.  The book is beautiful.  The text is online, so there is nothing preventing anyone from reading the story.  And Doral and I took on the task of just learning how to say Secwepmc.  Doral carried with him a little piece of paper to remind him of the sounds.  I have been practising for a couple of years, so am coming close to a good pronunciation, though I am not there.

It was a joy to sit at the table hearing Rebecca read from the written text, rather than a tablet and hear stories of the people of the land that we live on.

"Coyote and the Swans".

"Coyote and Bear".

Coyote was in trouble in both of the stories.

Fascinating to hear the story and then try to guess what we could learn about what it is in the stories that teach us about law, the land and resources.

My best guess rarely would get a passing mark.

The book is into its second printing.

I am hoping that I will get one for Christmas.

Rebecca says that the book is online at the UVic site, and anyone can look at it there.  I also found an earlier pdf on how the book was created -- interesting in itself, but not a place where I could find the wonderful stories that I will soon be telling to my grandchildren around a fire (a contained one).

Love,

Arta

Camp Fires

 ... the view as evening falls at the campfire ...

Bonnie has been looking for a perfect place for a hammock.

Her friends bought her one and put it up in a tree at their house.

Now she has an open invitation to be there. But it is a twenty minute drive to Marla's and sometimes someone needs a quick quiet spot, just a small time opens up where one could swing under a canopy of leaves.

Bonnie has been out looking for a perfect place for a hammock. She is observing one rule. Find the place for the hammock before she buys it. Knowing the exact perfect spot to choose will make the size and shape of the hammock easier to choose

Ceilidh roasting a super-sized marshmallow.

When I go outside, I look for the right spot for her as well. I am choosing all of the spots I love: up by the raspberry bushes where there is a view of the stream framed by two trees; over in the clump birches where Michael likes to play in the sand; down by the portable campfire pit.

Twin flower vines tumble down the embankment.
A new huckleberry bush has been discovered on the hill.
Let the coals die down.
Let the evening ghost stories begin.

The latter has become my favorite spot when I have an extra twenty minutes and I want to work in the yard.

Just a small increment of time opens up and I am down there with a rake and a shovel, trying to make the ground smooth around the fire pit.

Or I am cutting out the salmon berries that obstructing the perfect view.

Or I am arranging the cedar table and the patio chairs so that there is a circle big enough to include everyone around the fire. So much land.

So many perfect places.

Arta