WALDEN FOR ME - LET BUSINESS BE
As I noted recently, my aimless, enjoyable wandering through the Muskoka woods, had been unceremoniously interrupted by the reality..... commerce has its place....just as the forest and bog holds me spellbound, our business accountant occasionally gets on her high-horse and demands that I work for the luxuries (of wandering) I enjoy.
Over the past two months, business has been trumping just about everything else, and while it has been very much profitable and rewarding, as it has involved my passionate relationship with antiques and heritage items, all work and little play has been difficult to tolerate.....especially with beautiful weather and a lovely forest beckoning. I am so clearly reminded of the words written by David Grayson in his well known book, "Adventures in Contentment," where in his early days of "back to the farmstead" living, having left the urban stresses behind, he couldn’t seem to cast off the necessity of working long hours, being in a hurry to get things done, and to always have nice straight furrows at the end of plowing. Until one day, wiping sweat from his brow, he looked up at the beautiful valley sprawling out to the horizon, and was instantly amazed at what he had been missing about country life.....and life values generally. He had been so jaded by urban habits and necessity, that even in the hinterland, he was living the urban lifestyle of hurried pace, and reckless avoidance of real life and health issues.
I tried to explain this to my life partner, who is also my accountant, and she balked at the suggestion she is a taskmaster....but did agree that it was simply necessary to employ the cycle of economy, unless of course, one wanted to starve and be cast out of our present homestead by the fine folks who loaned us money in trust.
I have joyfully embraced the Muskoka woodlands again, this time having pacified the bean-counter, that our business is deserving the same attention as these forest inhabitants, trees and ferns and squirrels and well, you know. I’m just a little more determined now to fit it all in this remaining spring-time, before winter puts me closer to work than play.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
WALDEN INTERRUPTED
It wasn’t much different in Thoreau’s day either. There were lots of distractions, like work for example, that took the author away from his cabin at Walden Pond. Canadian painter, Tom Thomson, was always being interrupted by necessity, and would have to guide in Algonquin Park to raise money to support his artistic endeavors, which never became particularly fruitful until after his demise in 1917. Although it’s a pretty long stretch to put myself in their shoes, and their circumstance of which they were both quite successful, I too have succumbed to necessity and conventional thought. While I quite enjoy ambling away on this forest path, daydreaming of all sorts of fantastic eventualities, over the past while it’s been work heaped upon more work. Enjoyable pursuits mind you, and in the field antiques which I adore but none the less, a practical period for an impractical thinker. I’ve been glued to this keyboard for more than a month, working our online business which has certainly been a global enterprise recently. We’ve been shipping Canadiana and advertising memorabilia all over the world. True enough, business has been good.
I have finally cleared a little portal on my furniture-stacked porch, so I could set up my summer office, where I work frequently past midnight in the glow of a treasured old oil lamp, I rescued from a Muskoka farm auction some years back. I love sitting out there, looking over the lush ferns and wildflowers of our Birch Hollow, and then across the lane, The Bog and woodland, that truly makes this place an oasis within the urban jungle of even rural Ontario. I am enthralled to hear those faithful Loons that have been haunting this lowland for decades, and the Owls hooting away in the halo of mist and shadow on cool spring nights. I will sit and write for several hours and feel as if it had only been minutes. After a winter of hugging the hearth, it is truly amazing to be afforded this horizon of new growth, and regeneration of fern and flower, the sprays of lilacs now weighing down the boughs.
From mid December, when my father Ed suffered a stroke, ultimately ending his life later in January, to the work-load of an estate we were asked to sell for the family of a Toronto Minister, it was a season largely missed by pre-occupation. Although it wasn’t much of a winter, by Muskoka and Canadian standards, I do feel bad about missing my hiatus periods, writing this journal....which of course is based almost entirely on the escape, even if only mindfully, into my Walden....this adjacent bog and woodland that has been my source of inspiration for the past twenty years or so.
I have again been venturing into the awakening woods numerous times through the day, and finding all sorts of inspiration from what is considered commonplace to others in this neighborhood. There are fewer trees in some quarters of The Bogland, due to the powerful wind storms that have pounded over our region in the past few weeks. There are more birds chattering in the tree tops than I’ve seen for years, and there are at least three Owls residing in a small acreage, trying to find enough to eat. The Loons have been more numerous and closer to our homestead than in years past, and although I haven’t taken a scientific count, I do believe there are more this year than in the past two. We haven’t seen our area wolves and coyotes yet this season, and we hear that a bear has been visiting a neighbor’s bird feeder for snacks. But it is all very restorative to the weary soul, and I’ve vowed to reduce business a tad, to get out and meet the demands of property and appearance, which admittedly my wife prides moreso than another blog entry for her writer husband.
Get out and enjoy what Muskoka has to offer......and it is magnificent. Stop and enjoy the view. It’s a healthy thing to do.
It wasn’t much different in Thoreau’s day either. There were lots of distractions, like work for example, that took the author away from his cabin at Walden Pond. Canadian painter, Tom Thomson, was always being interrupted by necessity, and would have to guide in Algonquin Park to raise money to support his artistic endeavors, which never became particularly fruitful until after his demise in 1917. Although it’s a pretty long stretch to put myself in their shoes, and their circumstance of which they were both quite successful, I too have succumbed to necessity and conventional thought. While I quite enjoy ambling away on this forest path, daydreaming of all sorts of fantastic eventualities, over the past while it’s been work heaped upon more work. Enjoyable pursuits mind you, and in the field antiques which I adore but none the less, a practical period for an impractical thinker. I’ve been glued to this keyboard for more than a month, working our online business which has certainly been a global enterprise recently. We’ve been shipping Canadiana and advertising memorabilia all over the world. True enough, business has been good.
I have finally cleared a little portal on my furniture-stacked porch, so I could set up my summer office, where I work frequently past midnight in the glow of a treasured old oil lamp, I rescued from a Muskoka farm auction some years back. I love sitting out there, looking over the lush ferns and wildflowers of our Birch Hollow, and then across the lane, The Bog and woodland, that truly makes this place an oasis within the urban jungle of even rural Ontario. I am enthralled to hear those faithful Loons that have been haunting this lowland for decades, and the Owls hooting away in the halo of mist and shadow on cool spring nights. I will sit and write for several hours and feel as if it had only been minutes. After a winter of hugging the hearth, it is truly amazing to be afforded this horizon of new growth, and regeneration of fern and flower, the sprays of lilacs now weighing down the boughs.
From mid December, when my father Ed suffered a stroke, ultimately ending his life later in January, to the work-load of an estate we were asked to sell for the family of a Toronto Minister, it was a season largely missed by pre-occupation. Although it wasn’t much of a winter, by Muskoka and Canadian standards, I do feel bad about missing my hiatus periods, writing this journal....which of course is based almost entirely on the escape, even if only mindfully, into my Walden....this adjacent bog and woodland that has been my source of inspiration for the past twenty years or so.
I have again been venturing into the awakening woods numerous times through the day, and finding all sorts of inspiration from what is considered commonplace to others in this neighborhood. There are fewer trees in some quarters of The Bogland, due to the powerful wind storms that have pounded over our region in the past few weeks. There are more birds chattering in the tree tops than I’ve seen for years, and there are at least three Owls residing in a small acreage, trying to find enough to eat. The Loons have been more numerous and closer to our homestead than in years past, and although I haven’t taken a scientific count, I do believe there are more this year than in the past two. We haven’t seen our area wolves and coyotes yet this season, and we hear that a bear has been visiting a neighbor’s bird feeder for snacks. But it is all very restorative to the weary soul, and I’ve vowed to reduce business a tad, to get out and meet the demands of property and appearance, which admittedly my wife prides moreso than another blog entry for her writer husband.
Get out and enjoy what Muskoka has to offer......and it is magnificent. Stop and enjoy the view. It’s a healthy thing to do.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
WHEN BUSINESS CALLS - EVEN WHEN THE THOREAUESQUE BECKONS....
I must offer an apology for my lethargy as of late. It has been very much the case that business has come before pleasure. And while it is true that I garner great joy working in the antique profession, nothing can trump my forays in writing at Birch Hollow. But as the accountant in this household is currently of the opinion we should balance the books, it was necessary for awhile to put other, more enjoyable pursuits aside.
We have had the privilege of selling off a considerable quantity of interesting Canadiana, antiquarian books, old paper and some wonderful advertising nostalgia. Now we are close to completion and we can honestly say that the past six weeks have been exciting and well worth experiencing. There just hasn’t been much time for anything else, and seeing as I have for long and long subscribed to the philosophy of dear old Mr. Fezziwig’s (Dickens, A Christmas Carol) belief, that "money isn’t everything," I do intend to happily return to my cherished blog sites, of which there are numerous, and pen copiously once again. As a poor writer I shall continue following this life-long path.
Today the forest canopy is filling in, and the lilac buds are growing ever more significant, ready soon to burst into bloom. The ferns are poking their heads up through the soil and our patch of trilliums has almost doubled from years past. There are a few blackflies but not so bad.
Once again, my apologies for this rather unanticipated but profitable hiatus.
I must offer an apology for my lethargy as of late. It has been very much the case that business has come before pleasure. And while it is true that I garner great joy working in the antique profession, nothing can trump my forays in writing at Birch Hollow. But as the accountant in this household is currently of the opinion we should balance the books, it was necessary for awhile to put other, more enjoyable pursuits aside.
We have had the privilege of selling off a considerable quantity of interesting Canadiana, antiquarian books, old paper and some wonderful advertising nostalgia. Now we are close to completion and we can honestly say that the past six weeks have been exciting and well worth experiencing. There just hasn’t been much time for anything else, and seeing as I have for long and long subscribed to the philosophy of dear old Mr. Fezziwig’s (Dickens, A Christmas Carol) belief, that "money isn’t everything," I do intend to happily return to my cherished blog sites, of which there are numerous, and pen copiously once again. As a poor writer I shall continue following this life-long path.
Today the forest canopy is filling in, and the lilac buds are growing ever more significant, ready soon to burst into bloom. The ferns are poking their heads up through the soil and our patch of trilliums has almost doubled from years past. There are a few blackflies but not so bad.
Once again, my apologies for this rather unanticipated but profitable hiatus.
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