Emil, who graduated from Grade 12 one year ago (hard to believe a year's gone by already), still attends high school, where he follows a learning program for life skills. He also has a work placement at Mallard Industries, which is the sheltered workshop in Wadena, and does a short shift there several times a week.

When I was in town this week I dropped off Grandma's purse strap to be shortened (Mallard Industries has a wide variety of businesses on the go, one of which is a shoemakers or repair shop) and then went to see Emil at his workstation. He sorts recyclables and was pleased to show me how HARD he can throw those plastic containers into barrels.

Next year he'll be at school again and working only part-time at Mallard, but eventually, the following year or perhaps the year after that, he will become a full-time employee at Mallard Industries.

He enjoys his job and takes it seriously. If he and his aide are a little late arriving, as can happen if he's had to go to the bathroom at the last minute, then when coffee time comes he'll sometimes insist on skipping it to make up for being late. If it's a "Mallard" day, he doesn't like to make any alternate plans.

Mallard Industries also operates several group homes in town. One day Emil will go live in one with other Mallard employees. We are pretty fortunate to have a service like this right in the town where we live. The disabled adult children of many families throughout the province have no choice but to leave for distant points in order to have a more independent and productive life. Emil will be able to have both in his home community, with his family so close by that he can come home on weekends whenever he likes. This, of course, will make it easier for his mom to watch her firstborn child leave home. He'll be just a hop, skip and jump away.

My 15-year-old son is still bringing me flowers. He dug up the tiny vase (it belonged to Aunt Jean) and set it on my desk in the morning before I got to the computer. Too bad I can't get him to clean off the desk for me; it's in a bad way and due for a scrubbing. It gets this way periodically and I just keep placing pile on top of pile until they're falling over and there's no room for one more piece of paper. Finally I can't stand it anymore and spend a half-hour organizing and dusting everything.

My other son, who turns 20 next Saturday, asked me the other day, "Mom, am I going to be a dad someday?"

Now there's a tough question. Would Emil be able to care for a child? I don't think so. We had a talk about it, but he wasn't interested in a long drawn-out conversation. I think he just wanted to know whether fatherhood was inevitable.

We will, however, have to approach the subject again with an eye to birth control. This is not as simple as it may sound, because Emil, though I believe he has the normal physical desires of someone his age, does not have the intellectual comprehension of your average young man. So it will be like teaching sex education to a six-year-old. I don't really know how to go about it. Hm. Maybe I'll wait till I've sat down for my annual meeting with his special needs teacher in a week or two, and see what she has for ideas.

***

Scott has been working over at Golden Grain Farm this week. He has wired-in a light (at my request) over the kitchen sink and finished off a kitchen cabinet that he amputated (at his insistence), removing a lazy susan that didn't turn and replacing it with usable shelving. He finished up with some sanding, hole-filling, glueing and whatnot, all time-consuming with nothing obvious to show for it. I'll go over today and clean up after him. Least I can do.

With the rain, there is now water coming into the basement over there. Which means the water table is high. Which means we can't dig around the foundation and put in weeping tile right away, because the hole will just fill with water. He's gone to town to find the right kind of pump to put in a hole in the basement floor. All I can say is, I am glad he knows what needs to be done. If it was me by myself, I probably wouldn't even realize any action was necessary. Till the banks were overflowing ....

***

In other news—and this may be no big deal to some, but for me it's a breakthrough—in my garden digging this spring I have picked up three earthworms and moved them to safety, without gloves on. Yes! What is happening to me? I still get the weebie-jeebies at the thought of touching one that is squished, but was surprised to find myself actually picking up these moist creatures in my bare hands! And okay, I admit it, I talked to them while moving them to safety.

Me and the earthworm gods, we got a thing going on.

A day of cool rainy weather inspired me to spend Sunday afternoon baking. I whipped up a double batch of bran muffins, put honey granola cereal into the oven to brown, and threw together some whole wheat bread dough. While Everett kneaded the giant glob for 15 minutes (this length of time is the reason I haven't baked bread since my kneading machine was flood-damaged over a year ago), I drove into town and picked Grandma up.

When we got back, we had apple pie (thanks Aunt Marj, it was delicious, and by the way I have been whipping through Melissa's book and will return it at the farmers' market on Saturday) with our tea. Then it was suppertime, and I insisted that Grandma, who was still full from the pie, eat something anyway. She managed to get half a toasted denver sandwich down her gullet, and insisted on drying the dishes afterward. After two years in the lodge, where all the cooking and cleaning is done for her, she hasn't forgotten how. No surprise there.

On Tuesday I went to town to take her to the hospital lab for blood tests. She has this scabby sore on her ear that never seems to heal. The hospital is only across the street from the lodge where she lives, but the day was cool so I drove her there and back. It took all of 15 minutes, but when we got back to the lodge she asked me where we had just been, and what for. I reminded her about the blood test. She said she didn't have any blood taken. After we got her coat off and hung up in the closet, I pulled up her sleeve and pointed out the tiny band-aid on the inside of her elbow. Evidence. Then she believed me.

On Sunday afternoon, several times she said she wasn't sure where she would have to go after she left my place. She didn't remember where she lives, she told me. This is a little disconcerting.

Her eyesight has failed terribly, too, since the retinal hemorrhage. She can't see well enough to zip up her own jacket, though she'll keep trying... and trying... and trying ... until finally I dare offer to help.

I must also remember to put a Rubbermaid stool into the van so she can get in and out more easily. At least now she is not taking my head off when I offer my arm as support during her exits and entrances. That one step is a very big step, for her. "A lot of people have to help me now," she remarked.

***

Shelly, I answered your email just yesterday or a day or two ago, not sure exactly. It was short, just saying that I'm receiving your mails, but it sounds like you are not getting mine.

Is this not the sweetest little thing?
Joanne, my mom's very close friend, sent this photo of her great-grandson Landyn, and I fell in love with it. This morning she called to give me permission to post it, so voila. Now the rest of you may gush along with me. I just want to pick him right up and kiss him.

You can imagine, Joan, what Ben had to put up with when I was there.

My sister Joan has won a photographer's award that she is tickled about; read about it here. She is fairly new to photography and she is self-trained, so an award like this is a pretty big deal.

Speaking of Joan, the first night at her place I spotted a spider in the living room. “Kill it!” she insisted, but instead I got a water glass and a piece of thin cardboard, turned the glass upside down over the insect, slid the stiff paper underneath it, and threw the beast out the door.
“Ew,” Joan said. “I’ll never be able to drink from that glass again, you know.”
I kept my “insect trap” on the living room coffee table all week in case of need, but there were no more intruders except for one honkin’ large wasp that came in when Jordan left the sliding screen door open. I looked at it, wondered how difficult it would be to catch, pulled the screen door wide open, and out it went.

***

It rained during the night and is still raining, so everyone in the area will be doing a happy dance. We have not had a serious rain here for a long time. I am still not finished putting annuals into the ground at Golden Grain Farm (as a matter of fact I worked at it last night till Scott called my cellphone to say supper was ready, at about 9 o'clock), and this means I won't be able to finish today, but maybe ... maybe tomorrow.

Scott claims he's going to take the day off and go to Kelvington to visit his grandmother. First he has to go to the other place and feed the chickens; then he wants to go to town to order siding for a customer; then I'll believe, when I see it, that he'll actually find no other work to do for the afternoon. I plan to go to Kelvington with him, as I need a gallon of honey from my supplier and would like to look at dressers for us and beds for the boys. They've grown out of their bunks, or Everett has; he's been sleeping on the living room couch for quite a few months already. I've been thinking we'll be moved any day, so will buy new beds then. But it's taking longer than I expected.

According to Scott, he is taking several days to work on the house this week. If that happens, a lot could be accomplished. Fingers crossed.

one last pic of Ben, who loves his bath

Everett and I were driving over to Golden Grain Farm when he said, “Mom, do you remember that little farm set I used to have? With the tiny plastic animals?”

I did. It had a red barn, corrals, and numerous cows, chickens, pigs, horses, etc.

“Well, I thought all animals were made of that stuff,” he told me, “and the first time I saw a cow in a field by the road, I wondered how much money the farmer who owned it must have, to be able to afford one so big.”

Today we’re talking about disciplining children. I am a no-nonsense caregiver, and if their parents aren’t around, young kids tend to do my bidding without question. (Okay, they can get away with one question, maybe even two; I’m not unreasonable.) Everett wondered why that is. I guessed that it’s because they figure out very quickly that they can count on me to be fair, but that I mean what I say and I look serious, like I mean business. Blame it on my face.

He went on to mention the memorable (because of their rarity) spankings he and Emil got (there is always a better way and I do not believe there is any value in corporal punishment, but have used it in times of stress and impatience), and the more common method that worked so well with my boys: the “do-nothing” chair. They’d have to sit on a chair and do nothing for one minute for each year of their age.

“I hated that,” said Everett, “because I thought it meant you could do absolutely nothing, so I would sit there and try not to breathe.”

***

Everett has been helping me a lot in the other yard, digging holes for perennials mostly. Just after we got there the other day, a heron (American bittern) landed in the slough, which is not far from the house. I pointed it out to Everett and remarked “Bet it’s not everyone who gets to see a slough pump in their back yard.”

Grandma was already down in the dining room with some of the other residents for their afternoon tea and coffee when I stopped in yesterday.

Too bad I didn't have some of Everett's cinnamon buns with me:

He completed his last cooking lab on the weekend. And they were delicious. That's one class I hate to see ending.

While I was gone he wrote four final exams, so those are out of the way. He's still working on three correspondence classes and two through the school in town. Looks like he'll be finishing the correspondence throughout the summer.

Today he helped me in the garden at Golden Grain Farm by planting onion bulbs and digging holes for ferns and a bleeding heart bush that had to be moved from the yard here.

We've both spent four hours a day over there since Sunday. The bulk of the perennials have been transplanted and the vegetables are in. I am grateful for his help.

Five rose bushes have to be moved, and there are perennials in my flowerbeds here that still aren't up. So there's plenty of grunting and sweating ahead.

It's nap time. Been a long day already. My neck and shoulders are complaining.

This morning I jaunted off to Lintlaw to pick up apple pies from my great-aunt Marj. She makes me 10 at a time; they go into the deep freeze and when a special dessert is called for, I pull one out and bake it for an hour and a half. People always rave about the delicious pastry and I only wish I could claim to be the one who made them.

This morning Marj had a couple hardcover books on a table and I, as always when it comes to anything in print, took note. Her granddaughter's story is now in print so Marj sent me home with a copy, which I'll read and return to her in a couple weeks.

You may remember, or you will if you're in Canada anyway, when a Calgary woman's ex-husband kidnapped their two young daughters during a visit, took them to Lebanon, and the government there refused to give them back to their mother, who has legal custody in the girls' home country of Canada. The woman is Marj's granddaughter (does that make her my second cousin? i think so) Melissa. Melissa managed to get her little girls home and now there is a movie being made about the whole ordeal.

I won't say more about it until I've read the book. We all know how the media presented the story, but I'm looking forward to reading Melissa's firsthand account.

For a gal who likes to be outside walking when the weather is fair, I did none of it while in Kelowna. The fact is, to go for a walk in the residential area where Joan and Gary live, one has to walk on the bike path on the street, where vehicles come around curves and whiz past. Eventually one would come to a dog park and be able to go down to the lakeshore, but the thought of enduring the traffic, first, kept me in the yard.

Nice yard, though. When Ben was asleep —

little darling — I often strolled around it and pulled a weed or two from the flowerbeds. Above is the back patio; the photo is taken from atop a short set of stairs.

From there I had walked over this footpath and was standing admiring the well-established shrubbery and perennial beds, camera in hand, when the automatic sprinkler system came on and I had to high-tail it through the water and back into the house.

***

Tonight after supper I headed down the road on foot to meet Everett, who had biked over to Golden Grain Farm. I'd left my bike over there last night and walked home, because one of the pedals was squeaking and that's the kind of thing that drives me batty. I couldn't face a second noisy trip so soon after the one that got me there. I need a retired grandpa to fix it for me. Anyone got one to spare?

The sky was sunny when I left the yard but as soon as I turned onto the road, the wind felt cold. In the western sky I could see rain falling, but figured I'd make it to GG Farm before it reached me and that, if holding to its pattern of the last day or two, it would last 10 minutes and move on.

Halfway there, I met Everett on his way back, hoping to beat the squall. I turned on foot and followed him at a good clip, but alas was not quick enough. The rain was giving me a good soaking by the time I turned the corner, about an eighth of a mile from home. That's when a tractor pulled out from the hill next to the yard and Scott, who was driving it, took pity on this poor drenched thing he could see in the distance. So I got my first tractor ride of the year, and was grateful to get it.

Survived the flights on Wednesday and drove home from Saskatoon Thursday. For some reason I was more nervous in the sky over mountains than over prairie. Quelle surprise. Perhaps a window seat is not the best idea.

Everything back here turned green during the week I was away. I walked to the new place after supper.

Before walking back, I went with Scott across the road to look at some of the cattle. He strolled among them in slow motion, reaching for their noses.

Alien cows. Who knew.

***

Joan and Gary were off to Vegas before I was out of bed the morning after arriving in Kelowna. It was just me and the kids at their place for the next four nights. On Saturday I took them to Dad and Grace's, where we spent the afternoon and had supper. Again I did not get a decent photo of Grace; just the top of her head, in one. Tsk. But anyway, she's a sweetie and Dad is smitten, and they're a very happy couple.

Ben, Dad, Jordan

The babysitting was not tough at all. It almost felt like a sort of retreat. The kids were angels, and the weather was fine enough to spend some time sunning on the patio.

The only beer I had all week.
Honest.