Duck Eggs, Night Noise, Where Sharon Lives Now

SadieSue hasn’t been eating much and I wondered why, till Scott mentioned that he’s finding egg shells on the lawn. She’s stealing from duck nests. Who wants kibble when you can have fresh eggs?

The soras are back. It’s tempting to sleep in the office so I can listen to them while falling asleep. With Scott’s C-Pap machine next to me in our bed, bird calls outside the window can’t be heard. The frog chorus can’t be heard. The coyotes can’t be heard. Why is it that the goddamn barking dog can still be heard?

sadie luvs duckie

Sadie loves Duckie. Remember that Bugs Bunny cartoon where the big dog ends up bouncing around the little dog, begging for attention? That’s how it is. Sadie wants to play play play.

If I stop here, my sister Joan will say to herself, “Tsk! Where’s the rest?” So I had better carry on, even though the popular wisdom about blogging these days is “Who wants to read about you? Write posts about them — stories and information that will help them to live/do/be better!”

That’s a tall order. What do I know about living better — especially how other people could live better? I only know that I’m happy a good part of the time, and a lot of that is due to my environment. I’m not elbow-to-elbow with other people, even those I love. I can step outside my door and be alone but for animals and birds and butterflies, and soak up the beauty of sky and clouds and trees. When I lived in towns or cities , I felt trapped and surrounded. How can anyone be happy in those conditions? But that’s only me. Lots of people are not only happy, but blooming, in towns and cities.

It’s not always easy or possible to “bloom where you’re planted,” though you can stay alive. That’s not blooming, though.


After lunch I sat down with a cup of tea and Sharon Butala‘s new memoir, Where I Live Now. Oh my. I was in tears before I’d finished the preface. I recognize myself in her emotional life. And beautiful writing, perfect. I’ve said before that her earlier memoir, The Perfection of the Morning, is my favourite book. It spoke to me like no book ever had. I often think of it, still, of Sharon, when I’m walking somewhere here, anywhere, and remember that others walked here before me, many centuries ago. I wonder who they were, what they were doing. It’s Sharon who reminded me that this land was not empty before me and mine came here.


8 thoughts on “Duck Eggs, Night Noise, Where Sharon Lives Now

  1. My CPAP machine is shoved far underneath the bed in its carrying case because the sound drives me mad. It’s so loud! That hum is like a kind of torture. I am going to be eligible for a new one next month and it better be quieter. And I know I should not complain and just be happy that I won’t die in my sleep but I prefer to be snarky today.


  2. Don’t apologize. Everytime you write about where you live I fertively scout for sale and housesitting in south eastern Saskatchewan.

    I would love to step out my door and be engulfed by sky and birdsong, and a dog littering the lawn with duck eggs. That latter within reason of course, I want there to be duck noises too. I’d have to shave the dog. No way I’m digging for bugs.

    It renews me to know there is still a place in Canada where reason and sublime may survive. Where a woman who bakes 12 loaves of bread may still visit friends in a bakery. Where a young man may miss his mom, and a older man call for help with barn cats.


  3. Oh my gawd she has a new book? Yes I was in tears throughout her first (?) book. I’ll have to have a look for this one. I haven’t even heard or read interviews!


  4. SAG,
    I’m with you. I like personal blogs; that’s what interests me: people’s lives. Not their politics or anything, but how they get through their days and their challenges and just plain how they live. -Kate


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