A Few Familiar Ghosts Over For Thanksgiving

A LITTLE THANKSGIVING SPIRIT CAME TO VISIT - A PLEASANT HAUNTING IN KEEPING WITH THE SEASON

STAYING HOME IN GRAVENHURST WITH THANKS

     I WAS AMBLING, WITH A LIMP, AS IS NOW MY TRADEMARK "SEMI-STRIDE," LATE LAST EVENING, WITH BOSKO (OUR CANINE COMPANION), AND I HEARD A STRANGE RUSTLING COMING UP BEHIND ME. BOSKO STOPPED, LOOKED BACK, BUT DIDN'T FIND ANYTHING WORTH SNARLING AT, SO TOOK THE OPPORTUNITY TO SCRATCH A FLEA.

     IT'S NOT UNCOMMON FOR A WEE CRITTER TO DART OUT OF THE BOG, AND IF YOU WERE TO SIT OUT, ON A FRONT VERANDAH LIKE I DO MOST NIGHTS OF THE WEEK, YOU'D WITNESS A LARGE NUMBER OF RESIDENT ANIMALS, THAT CALL THIS SMALL FOREST AND LOWLAND HOME. IN A ONE HOUR STRETCH, YOU MIGHT SEE OUR NEIGHBORHOOD FOX……A BEAUTIFUL LOOKING CREATURE. YOU COULD ALSO SPOT A COUPLE OF FAT RACCOONS THAT KEEP-ON KNOCKING OVER MY GARBAGE PAIL; A RATHER MYSTERIOUS COYOTE THAT WILL ONLY EVER TRAVEL DOWN THE CENTRE OF THE ROAD, AS LONG AS NOTHING IS COMING…..OR SUDDENLY, IF OBSTRUCTED, JUST DART INTO THE BOG. IT WON'T TROT ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD, OR THE GRASS FRINGE. IT PREFERS THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD LIKE A LOT OF MY FRIENDS THESE DAYS.

     IF YOU'RE PATIENT, AND JOIN ME FOR A CUP OF TEA AND A SCONE, YOU ARE LIKELY TO WATCH A RABBIT WHIP ACROSS OUR LAWN, A LONE WOLF…..AND YES, ON MOONLIT NIGHTS, A BEAR CUB, MANY DEER, AND A GNARLY OLD MOOSE THAT SHOWS UP TO DINE ON OUR GARDENS. HE LEAVES HUGE CRATERS FROM THE HOOVES. IN THE DAYTIME, THE SCENE IS OVER-RUN BY CHATTERING, AND LEAPING SQUIRRELS, CHIPMUNKS, PREPARING FOR WINTER, AND OH SO MANY FEATHERED FRIENDS, WHO HAVE BEEN DINING AT OUR FEEDERS FOR YEARS. IT'S A WONDERFUL BONUS OF LIVING IN MUSKOKA, AND HAVING SOME NATURE NEARBY. OF COURSE, AS RELATES TO THE BOG, IT'S PARTICULARLY SIGNIFICANT BECAUSE WE NEARLY LOST IT A FEW YEARS AGO, WHEN THE TOWN STARTING PAWING THROUGH THEIR ASSETS, TRYING TO RAISE FUNDS FOR A NEW TOWN HALL. IN ORDER FOR THEM TO HAVE FULFILLED THEIR INTENT, I WAS GOING TO HAVE TO DIE FIRST……AS IT WAS ONLY GOING TO HAPPEN OVER MY COLD DEAD BODY. THE ABOVE PARAGRAPH SHOULD ADEQUATELY IDENTIFY WHY THIS AMAZING LITTLE PRESERVE HAD TO STAY…….AND COUNCILLORS HAD TO GO!

IT'S NICE TO BE HOME - AND GRAVENHURST IS IT!

     As far as the rustling coming-up behind me, it was an unusual, twisting current of wind, like a small tornado, that intruded on the calm scene, right up to my foot, and then actually danced around me, and went on up the street. Bosko sat and watched it pass by, but didn't see any necessity to get territorial, with what could only be viewed, in dog terms, as a simple, run-of-the-mill manifestation of the atmosphere. It was a little blustery at the time. I had this same thing happen to me once before, when Suzanne, the boys and I were living at the family cottage on Lake Rosseau, at Windermere, only months before moving to Birch Hollow, here in Gravenhurst. A small swirl of wind, raising dust and leaves in its path, came right down the adjacent hillside of the cottage property, and actually brushed over my toes on the first step of the verandah. I thought it might have been Suzanne's mother Harriett, who had passed some years earlier, checking up on whether I had done all the chores Suzanne left for me. A ghost of the woman I knew. Could it be? As I am not generally scared of ghosts and the paranormal, I addressed her as "Harriett," and assured the whirlwind, that I was keeping the cottage property spic and span, and that she need not worry about her daughter or grandchildren. The tiny tornado disappeared over the rock hillside, and presumably lost some steam declining the steep embankment to the water's edge. Was Harriett reconnecting with her son-in-law at Thanksgiving, which was one of her favorite times of the year? The rotating wind didn't speak to me. It didn't have to. Have you ever had anything like this happen to you…….and then questioned silently……I wonder if that was someone I knew in life? There are a lot of enchantments at this time of the rolling year. If it's true that those who have crossed over can communicate with the living, well, there will be guests for Thanksgiving dinner. And my mother may hit me in the back of the head, for using a boarding-house reach to get the last hot roll.

     Harriett and I were both writers and hobby artists, and before she passed away, we wrote a book together, entitled "Legend of Tall Pines," and the front cover photograph, was taken exactly where the funnel of wind wound down the slope toward the water. We were kindred spirits, Harriett and I, and poets who never quite achieved the status of Robert Frost…..though we wrote a lot about stopping by the woods on snowy evenings, and about venerable birches, painted in autumn hues. So if Harriett had also decided to visit us here at Birch Hollow, it would be in keeping with her vigorous traditions of the past, to celebrate Thanksgiving to the fullest. She may have just been checking up on her son-in-law again, making sure I was keeping the homestead up, and looking after her daughter and grandsons, as she had before. Or, was it just a little gust of wind that crossed my path. Harriett by the way, and her husband Norman, both died around Thanksgiving, and son Robert was born just after the holiday. Suzanne thought her stomach woes were the result of too much turkey, but it was Robert wishing to exit.

     I truly enjoy the autumn season in Muskoka, and specifically in Gravenhurst, and I might sit out on this front verandah of ours for most of the evening…..with either the warm comforts of a Bird's Woollen Mill blanket (made in Bracebridge), or one of the buffalo robes that were once used in a cutter crossing the Muskoka snowscape, circa the 1880's. I've got a second one in case you ever come over, and develop a chill. I've sat out in the middle of a winter storm, beneath one of these robes, and felt pleasantly warm.

     When I think back to how close this adjacent forest and lowland, came to being sacrificed by town council, several years ago, it still makes me quiver at the possibility. It's such an amazing in-town sanctuary, and there isn't a season that I'm not enthralled by what if offers the voyeur, whether it is the parade of resident animals and birds, or just the picturesque qualities, of autumn leaves and later, the mantle of December snow upon the bank of evergreens. I am thankful it was spared by the town, after they began paying attention to the large number of citizens, from all over the community, who rallied with us, to stop the chainsaw massacre.

     I know well, how holidays like Thanksgiving, can be compromised by sadness, depression and marred by tragedy…..turned almost hatefully into a "special occasion best avoided." Because of the sad patina of old memories, many wish to hide away from its recognition, preferring it to be just another day of an ordinary week. There are sad recollections for us, as well, and there are moments at Thanksgiving dinner, when Suzanne's eyes will well-up, missing the presence of her father Norm Stripp, who for so many celebratory dinners sat at the head of the table….my father and mother at the back, with the mischievous lads beside. Norman would show up each Thanksgiving, as a tradition, with his 1954 blue Chrysler New Yorker. I've even known Suzanne, to startle at times, believing she has heard the rumble of the old car, hitting the limestone of our lane…..and looking out the window, despite knowing full well that Norm passed away many Thanksgivings ago.

     But despite our mindful lapses and inherent sentimentality, and the pangs of nostalgia that can bring us all to unnoticed tears, we still resolve to enjoy the togetherness of remaining family, and share the truly good and happy feelings…..of being thankful for all the prosperity we have been afforded for our labors; and how we have been so kindly, and richly influenced by the many kindred hearts, we have known through our collective lives.

     Ours will be a modest celebration, enjoyed in the humble embrace of a tiny home, on a small forested lot, above this scenic lowland of which I adore, in the spirit of bright goodwill. We will delight at the arrival of a golden brown Tom Turkey to the table, and we will say a little prayer, acknowledging our happy home, and expressing our thanks for another bountiful harvest. We will at the end, have to push ourselves back from the table, each of us vowing to never eat another morsel. Before our Thanksgiving holiday has run its course, and we have basked in the warm glow at hearthside, we will raise a toast to all the spirits in our company, with fond memories of parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and significant others, who have passed. None of us in the bosom of Birch Hollow will feel haunted by bad memories…..because we refuse them entry. Ghostly intrusions may explain why the organ will play a few notes on its own, or why a candle, amongst many others, suddenly extinguishes, as if blown out by someone directly in front. There may be a rapping on the door, which is usual at our house, with no one seeking entry. Steps on the floor, the sound of a turning door knob, noticing a flickering light, the sudden, unwarranted scent of spring flowers where there are none, and the sensation of a hand being placed on your shoulder, is what we expect of such a timeless gathering of cronies young and old, living and deceased. No witches though, but they'd be welcome none the less. A little rustling of the leaves behind us, as we take our after-dinner walk, is nothing to be surprised, or startled about. It's what we did with all our guests, so it's fitting and somewhat amazing, that they're still up for a good walk, them being on the other side and all.

     Thanksgiving is as much about today….the now, as it is about the past. It evokes poignant memories of the way it used to be, and the gathering of cheerful folks, awaiting the emergence of the festive supper, the cranberry sauce, and then the pumpkin pie. It was to die for!  And some did. We are never truly alone, you see, whether you believe in the paranormal or not. So who's coming to dinner anyway? Well, if the spirits join the festivities, don't worry. They'd don't need a lot of room, and they eat…..lightly.

     We should all be thankful we live in such a wonderful country, province and district, and be grateful for another prosperous harvest. Happy Thanksgiving from our family here at Birch Hollow, in Gravenhurst, Ontario.

     Thank you for visiting today. Please come again. I always enjoy your company. We have a lot of laughs don't we? Without you, it's just a black collection of words on white. You make them into a story. And that's good for you and I. See you soon.