MYSTERIES OF THE BACKWOOD'S HOMESTEAD REVEALED
EVERY ABANDONED FARMSTEAD, AND HOME I EVER VISITED, EVEN FROM CHILDHOOD, WHEN I SNUCK INTO VACANT HOUSES IN MY NATIVE BURLINGTON, HAD WHAT I BELIEVE, WAS A SPIRITUALLY ENHANCED ESSENCE. TO EXPLAIN THIS, I WOULD ASK YOU TO THINK ABOUT THE TIMES IN YOUR LIFE, YOU HAVE VISITED THE HOMES OF FRIENDS AND FAMILY; AND SOME HOUSES OF PEOPLE YOU ONLY KNEW MARGINALLY, THROUGH CONNECTIONS WITH OTHERS. EVERYONE GETS HAS A PREAMBLE OPINION OF THE DWELLING PLACES, STARTING AT THE FRONT WALK, UP TO THE DOOR, AND THEN INSIDE. LIKE COMPUTERS, WE ANALYZE WHAT WE DETECT VIA OUR SENSORY PERCEPTION. WE DEVELOP OPINIONS AND OVERVIEWS CONSTANTLY, AS WE INSPECT THE HOUSE FROM THE INSIDE, AND MAKE JUDGEMENTS, RIGHT OR WRONG, ABNOUT THE RESIDENTS. AS I AM PARTICULARLY SENSITIVE TO HESE HOUSEHOLD AURAS, I MAY WELL FIND AN EXCUSE TO LEAVE PREMATURELY. I'VE BEEN LIKE THIS ALL MY LIFE. IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH CLEANLINESS, OR BAD SMELLS. IT HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH A SORT OF POSITIVE OR NEGATIVE ENERGY. I HAVE ALWAYS PICKED UP "VIBES" FROM FORMERLY OCCUPIED PROPERTIES, AND I HAVE ON OCCASION, OPTED TO LEAVE VERSUS CONFLICT WITH WHAT MY SENSES WERE TELLING ME. IT'S HARD TO EXPLAIN, BUT I BET YOU'VE HAD SIMILAR FEELINGS AT POINTS IN YOUR LIFE. EVERY PROPERTY HAD ITS SIGNATURE ESSENCE, AND VERY MUCH, I BELIEVE, PART OF THE COMBINED CHARACTER, OF THOSE WHO HAD ONCE DWELLED THERE. NOT A SPOOKY THING AT ALL. ONCE AGAIN, POWERFUL VIBES; SOME GOOD AND SOME NOT SO GOOD, MUCH AS IF IT WAS A SPIRITUAL NO TRESPASSING SIGN. IF IT WAS PARANORMAL, I NEVER THOUGHT OF IT AS SUCH. IT WAS JUST INSTINCTIVE FOR ME TO EITHER ACCEPT A VIBE FOR WHAT IT WAS, OR DIG AND EXPLORE SOME PLACE ELSE.
WHENEVER I WAS ON A NATURE HIKE BY MYSELF, OR WITH SEVERAL FRIENDS, ON A CANOE TRIP, FOR EXAMPLE, I'D NEVER ONCE FEEL, DURING THE DURATION OF THE OUTING, EVEN MOMENTARILY, FEEL THE TARGET OF PARANORMAL ANYTHING. I DIDN'T FEEL AS IF SOMEONE, OR SOMETHING, OTHER THAN THOSE I KNEW, WERE WATCHING ME. ANY TIME I DID HAVE THIS SENSATION, LOW AND BEHOLD, FELLOW HIKERS AND CANOEISTS, WERE PORTAGING FROM THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION. I HAVE NEVER BEEN TO AN ABANDONED FARM SITE, WHERE I'VE BEEN EXPLORING THE TERRAIN, AND INVESTIGATING THE REMAINING BUILDINGS AND RUINS, WITHOUT COMING AWAY WITH THE VERY REAL RECOLLECTION, OF NOT ONLY BEING WATCHED, BUT ACTUALLY BEING ACCOMPANIED AROUND THE PROPERTY BY SOME ENTITY UNSEEN. I'VE LONG BELIEVED, THAT LIKE A PHOTOGRAPHIC NEGATIVE, OR AN AUDIO TAPE, HUMAN EXISTENCE CAN BE CAPTURED AND REFLECTED BY THE LANDSCAPE, AS A SORT OF ENDURING ENERGY CHRONICLE. I'VE NEVER ONCE HEARD MY NAME CALLED OUT, DURING A WILDERNESS HIKE, BUT I'VE NEVER BEEN TO A HOMESTEAD DIG SITE, WITHOUT ONCE OR TWICE A TRIP, HEARING SOMEONE CALLING OUT MY NAME. SOMETIMES, MY FULL NAME, THAT ONLY FEW PEOPLE KNOW. IMAGINE HOW INTRUSIVE IT WOULD BE, IN THE MIDDLE OF A MUCKY DIG, COVERED IN THE DEBRIS OF AGES, TO HEAR SOMETHING CALL OUT, AUDIBLY, "TEDDY CURRIE," OR "EDWARD JOHN," WHICH IS MY PROPER NAME. A VOICE CLEAR ENOUGH, THAT YOU SIMPLY HAVE TO STOP, TO ANSWER IN RETURN. THIS IS WHERE IT ALWAYS ENDS. NO ONE IS THERE. NO ONE OF THE MORTAL KIND, COULD HAVE CALLED MY NAME, LEAVING THE SPIRIT-KIND TO ANSWER FOR THE NAME-CALLING. IT'S ALWAYS UNSETTLING. IT'S WHY I BELIEVE THESE OLD HOMESTEADS, HAVE THAT SPIRITUAL ENERGY IMPRINT, THAT DISCERNS THE BIOGRAPHY OF ITS LATEST INTRUDER. I INTRUDED A LOT IN THOSE DAYS. I COULDN'T BLAME THE SPIRITS FOR BEING IRKED AT MY CONSTANT VISITATIONS, DIGGING UP WHAT HAD BEEN THEIR MOTHER EARTH; TO UNCOVER THEIR CAST OFF POSSESSIONS. I WAS A DISTURBER OF COMMONPLACE. SO THE SPIRITUAL OWNERSHIP, I SUPPOSE, HAD A CLEAR RIGHT TO STAKE A CLAIM, EVEN IN ITS CONTEMPORARY ERA. MAYBE THEY, LIKE THE GHOSTS IN THE MOVE "BEETLEJUICE," WERE JUST TRYING TO UNSETTLE ME, FRIGHTEN ME OFF, SO THAT I WOULD LEAVE AND NEVER BEEN SEEN ON THOSE GROUNDS AGAIN. I WASN'T AS CLUED-IN TO THE PARANORMAL REGISTRY IN MY YOUTH, AS I AM TODAY. I JUST WROTE MOST OF IT OFF, AS THE RESULT OF BEING EXHAUSTED, AND THE MIND PLAYING TRICKS. OR BEING DEHYDRATED OR HUNGRY.
I WAS NEVER A BIG FAN OF SCHOOL. (THE CLOSEST I GOT TO LIKING SCHOOL, WAS WHEN I MARRIED A TEACHER) BUT I HAD A LOT OF QUESTIONS ABOUT THE WAY HISTORY WAS BEING TAUGHT. BASICALLY, HOW IT WASN'T BEING TAUGHT ACCURATELY, ACCORDING TO FACT, NOT THE COLORFUL FICTIONS WE OFTEN RECEIVED VIA TEXTBOOK INSTRUCTION. YOU KNOW, THE WHOLESOME IMAGE OF THE PIONEER WOMAN, IN A NEAT, WHITE BONNET, AND BILLOWING DRESS, CHURNING THE BUTTER, WHILE HER BEAUTIFULLY CLOTHED CHILDREN, IN PERIOD ATTIRE, STOOD AT THE TABLE, WITH THEIR GOLDEN LOCKS HANGING TO THEIR RESPECTIVE SHOULDERS. A PRETTY NICE, SANITIZED PICTURE, BUT NOT WHAT THE IMAGE SHOULD HAVE PRESENTED. THE SMOKE-SOOT-BLACKENED BONNETS, AND SMUDGED FACES, FROM LIVING IN A CABIN THAT HAD TO HAVE A FIRE TWENTY-FOUR HOURS A DAY, TO PREVENT THE INHABITING FAMILY FROM FREEZING TO DEATH.
I WAS A STUDENT WAITING TO BE INSPIRED. I WAITED FAR TOO LONG. WHAT CHOICE DID I HAVE, BUT TO LISTEN TO THE TALL, SYRUP-SWEET STORIES, ABOUT WHAT IT WAS LIKE IN CANADA DURING PIONEER TIMES. IF I HADN'T PAID ATTENTION, OR DISMISSED THE WHOLE COURSE OF STUDY AS PURE FICTION, AND IT SHOWED BY MY BLATANT DISREGARD FOR THE CHALKBOARD, MY TEACHER WOULDN'T HESITATE SENDING A NOTE HOME, OR MAKING THE DREADED AFTER-SUPPER CALL. I DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH ACCUMULATED KNOWLEDGE, TO SENSIBLY REFUTE WHAT WAS BEING TAUGHT IN SCHOOL, ABOUT THE PIONEER PERIOD. IT ALL HAD THAT CELEBRATORY CENTENNIAL-YEAR FACADE, WRAPPED AROUND IT LIKE A HONKING BIG RED BOW; AND IT ALWAYS SEEMED THAT THE HOMESTEAD PERIOD, WAS BEING ROMANTICIZED BY AN EDUCATION SYSTEM, THAT DIDN'T CARE ABOUT AN HONEST PORTRAYAL, AS LONG AS IT WAS GIVEN SOME MINOR CLASS TIME. AS LONG, AS IT TAUGHT US PROPORTIONALLY ABOUT THE GOOD OLD DAYS, OF FIRST BECOMING HARD WORKING, STALWART CANADIAN CITIZENS, TILLING THE LAND FOR OUR FUTURE PROSPERITY. ACTUALITY AND FACT WEREN'T PART OF THE MIX. I CAME OUT OF PUBLIC SCHOOL, THINKING THAT THE PIONEER PERIOD WAS ONE OF THE EASIEST, MOST TRANQUIL TIMES IN HISTORY; EXCEPT FOR THE ROVING INDIANS, WHO SOMETIMES WANTED THEIR LAND BACK, AND WERE PREPARED TO USE THE TOMAHAWK TO TEACH US A LESSON. I WAS ALSO VERY AMERICANIZED. I'LL BLAME TELEVISION FOR THIS REALITY. I TOOK HISTORY THROUGHOUT PUBLIC SCHOOL AND HIGH SCHOOL, AND I ARRIVED AT MY GRADUATION CEREMONY, PRETTY MUCH BANKRUPT, OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE ABOUT CANADIAN HERITAGE. EXCEPT THE BASICS. THERE WAS NO MEAT ON THE BONES. WHAT A SHAME, FOR ALL THE HOURS INVESTED. THE WHOLE PIONEERING EXPERIENCE, IN MY OPINION, WAS BEING MINIMIZED. AT THE SAME TIME, STUDENTS WERE BEING FED AN INACCURATE PROFILE, FROM START TO FINISH OF LESSONS, ABOUT WHAT IT MUST HAVE BEEN LIKE, LIVING WITH SUCH BURDENSOME HARDSHIP, ON AN ISOLATED HOMESTEAD, IN CONDITIONS THAT CAN BEST BE DESCRIBED AS CRUEL, AND UNYIELDING. THESE WERE OUR FOUNDERS. YET THE PERIOD WAS BEING PRESENTED AS AN ALMOST HALCYON TIME, OF GREAT MERRIMENT AND COMMUNITY FESTIVAL. IT WAS THE WAY THE PIONEER PERIOD WAS BEING PORTRAYED, RIGHT UP UNTIL MY IMPRESSIONS WERE CRUMBLED INTO DUST, DURING FIRST YEAR UNIVERSITY HISTORY. THE PRETTY BONNETS CAME OFF, AND THE PICTURESQUE IMAGES OF THE PIONEER CABINS, AND THE CRACKLING, FRIENDLY HEARTHS, WERE REPLACED BY ACCURATE IMAGES OF DEPRIVATION, AND IN SOME CASES STARVATION, IN HABITATIONS LARGELY UNFIT FOR HUMAN OCCUPATION. CABINS WHERE THE OUTDOORS WAS ACTUALLY INDOORS, DUE TO THE LARGE CRACKS BETWEEN THE LOGS THAT HADN'T BEEN INFILLED PROPERLY; AND IT WAS ABUNDANTLY CLEAR, WHEN IT RAINED AND SNOWED, THAT THESE URBAN REFUGEES FROM EUROPE, DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO BUILD SEALED AND SAFE SHELTERS FROM AVAILABLE RESOURCES. RESOURCES THEY NEEDED FIRST, TO CUT DOWN, AND THEN HAND HEW INTO PLACE, TO THEN SUPPORT A ROOF. IF THEY HAD THE FINANCIAL RESOURCES, TO HAVE SOMEONE BUILD THE CABIN, AHEAD OF THEIR ARRIVAL, THEY WERE OF A CLASS MAKING UP THE MINORITY OF SETTLERS. SOME OTHERS FOUND MONEY TO HAVE THEIR SHANTIES CONSTRUCTED, BUT FOUND THEM TO BE INCOMPLETE AND OFTEN ROOFLESS, WHEN THEY ARRIVED WITH THEIR FAMILIES IN TOW. IT WAS NOT A PLEASANT STORY, IF YOU CONSIDER THE SUFFERING OF MANY ILL PREPARED FORMER URBAN RESIDENTS, FROM CITIES IN EUROPE, SUDDENLY EXPOSED TO A NEW LIFE WITH EVEN HARSHER CONSEQUENCES FOR BEING OF POORER MEANS.
THE SCHOOL CURRICULUM WAS FILLED WITH COURAGEOUS STORIES OF PIONEER FORTITUDE, BUT THEY WERE SO SLICKED-OVER BY ROMANTIC OVERVIEWS, THAT PAIN AND SUFFERING WAS AVOIDED AS AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH. I BELIEVE IT'S STILL THE ONE REASON, THE PIONEER PERIOD IN OUR REGION OF ONTARIO, IS STILL SO PROFOUNDLY UNDER-RATED, AND MISUNDERSTOOD. THE IMAGE OF THE ROSEY CHEEKED PIONEER FAMILY IS TRUE ONLY IF THE COLORATION WAS DUE TO WINDBURN, SUNBURN, HEAT-CAUSED BY HAVING TO HOVER TOO CLOSE TO THE FIREPLACE, OR WOOD STOVE, IN ORDER TO KEEP FROM FREEZING TO DEATH. MUSKOKA WAS NOT A PARTICULARLY ACCOMMODATING REGION, FOR SETTLEMENT, WHICH WAS BASED ON THE POOREST OF THE POOR, FIGURING OUT HOW TO TAKE WET, ROCKY, TREE-FILLED LAND, BETWEEN THE HILLS AND CLIFFS, AND TURN THE HOMESTEAD ACREAGE INTO SEMI ARABLE FARM FIELDS. YOU DON'T READ MUCH IN ANY OF THE LOCAL HISTORIES, ABOUT HOW MANY SETTLERS QUIT THEIR AGRICULTURAL PURSUITS, BECAUSE THERE WERE TOO MANY OBSTACLES, FROM THIN SOIL, DEEP ROOTS, ROCK STREWN FIELDS, TO SHORT SEASONS AND LONG, VIOLENT WINTERS. EVEN THE HARDY ICELANDERS, IN CONSIDERABLE NUMBERS, FLED THEIR HOMESTEAD GRANTS IN HEKKLA, NEAR THE VILLAGE OF ROSSEAU, BECAUSE THE PROMISE OF PROSPERITY, BANDIED ABOUT BY CANADIAN LAND AGENTS, ABROAD, HAD BEEN STUFFED FULL OF GREAT AND GLAMOROUS FICTIONS. THEY WERE LIED TO, AND THE REGION'S NATURAL ASSETS WERE MISREPRESENTED. ICELAND ISN'T KNOWN FOR ITS TREES. MUSKOKA IS! THE SETTLERS, AS A STRANGE, CONTRARY TRIBUTE, NAMED THEIR SETTLEMENT "HEKKLA" AFTER A VOLCANO IN ICELAND, WHICH HAD KILLED MANY CITIZENS WITH ITS ERUPTIONS IN THE MOTHERLAND. MANY SETTLERS LEFT THE REGION, SHORTLY AFTER ARRIVING, AND LAND WAS ACQUIRED BY EARLY SPECULATORS, WHO TOOK ADVANTAGE OF THE LAND THAT WAS CLEARED, FOR ROADS AND SHELTER, AND STRIPPED THE TIMBER OFF THE ACREAGE FOR ADDITIONAL PROFIT. THE HOMESTEADER WAS GIVEN FREE LAND, THAT'S FOR SURE. BUT IN MANY CASES, IT WASN'T THE BARGAIN THEY HAD IMAGINED, WHEN THEY FOUND THE BOGS AND WATERCOURSES ON THEIR LAND GRANT, BENEATH THE ROCK CLIFFSIDES, HILLS AND VALLEYS, OF WHAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PASTURES READY FOR CULTIVATION. FOREST STOOD IN THE WAY. WHEN THE FORESTS WERE STRIPPED AWAY, ONLY YARDS OF CLEARING GAINED PER WEEK, THEN THERE WERE THE ROOTS THAT SEEMED TO REACH DOWN TO THE CORE OF MOTHER EARTH, THAT HAD TO BE REMOVED. THERE ARE NO STATISTICS ABOUT HOW MANY PIONEERS WERE KILLED BY THEIR LABOURS TO CLEAR THE LAND. THERE ARE NO NUMBERS AVAILABLE, TO SHOW HOW MANY HOMESTEADS WERE ABANDONED, COMPARED TO ONES THAT WERE SUCCESSFULLY MAINTAINED AND IMPROVED-UPON. THERE ARE NO STATISTICS TO CLARIFY HOW MANY OF THOSE FIRST SETTLERS, FROM THE LATE 1850'S, TO THE END OF THE 1870'S, DIED AND WERE BURIED ON HOMESTEAD PROPERTIES; AT A TIME WHEN COMMUNITY AND CHURCH CEMETERIES WERE FEW. IN THOSE FIRST TWENTY YEARS, WHAT WAS THE FEDERAL, AND PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENTS' SECRET (OR NOT SO SECRET) FIGURE, FOR WHAT IS KNOWN, FOR EXAMPLE, IN WAR, AS "ACCEPTABLE LOSS." HOW MANY EMIGRANTS COULD DIE AT THEIR TASK OF HOMESTEADING, BEFORE THE GOVERNMENT BECAME ALARMED THAT THEIR EXPERIMENT HAD GO SERIOUSLY WRONG. I'M OF THE OPINION, AFTER ALL THE YEARS I'VE STUDIED THIS PERIOD, FATALITIES WEREN'T A BIG CONCERN. WHAT THEY WERE LOOKING FOR, WAS PROOF THAT ENOUGH SETTLERS COULD SURVIVE ON HOMESTEADS, IN WHAT THEY KNEW WAS A LARGELY INHOSPITABLE ENVIRONMENT. AN AGRICULTURAL COMMISSION REPORT, FROM THE EARLY 1880'S, BASICALLY CONCLUDES THAT THE EXPERIMENT TO SETTLE A LESS AGRICULTURALLY SUITABLE LANDSCAPE, HAD WORKED; THAT SATISFACTORY RESULTS WERE MARKEDLY BETTER THAN A CIRCUMSTANCE, OF HAVING MORE OUTRIGHT FAILURES AND ABANDONED PROPERTIES. WHAT THEY DIDN'T FACTOR IN, WAS THAT LAND SPECULATORS HAD MOVED INTO THE REGION EARLY, TO BENEFIT FROM HOMESTEADING COLLAPSES, AND THE RESULTS WERE ASKEW RIGHT FROM THE BEGINNING. IT DOESN'T MEAN THAT THERE WEREN'T SUCCESSFUL HOMESTEADERS, BUT IT WASN'T BASED ON AGRICULTURAL OUTPUT ALONE. THE HOMESTEADERS HAD TO FIND ALTERNATIVE WAYS TO FINANCE THEIR FARMS; INCLUDING ANNUAL WINTER AND SPRING WORK IN THE LOGGING INDUSTRY, AND CATERING TO THE RISING DEMANDS OF THE TOURIST INDUSTRY, WHICH ALLOWED THESE FOLKS TO SELL SOME OF THEIR SURPLUS PRODUCE AND LUMBER, TO AN ENTERPRISE THAT WOULD SOON BECOME A MULTI-CENTURY, PROSPEROUS INDUSTRY, ALL THE WAY TO THE PRESENT DECADE. AS FAR AS LIVING OFF AGRICULTURE, IT HAPPENED IN ONLY A SMALL NUMBER OF CASES, USUALLY VIA LIVESTOCK VERSUS CROP YEILDS, YET THIS IS HARD TO FIND IN HONEST DOCUMENTATION OF THE PERIOD. THE EXPERIMENT, OF WHICH I REFER ABOVE, WAS CONDUCTED BY THE AGRICULTURAL DEPARTMENT, OF THE TIME, TO TEST THE CAPABILITY OF EMIGRANTS TO TAKE POOR QUALITY LAND, AND EVENTUALLY, BUILD A HOMESTEAD ECONOMY BY ONES MEANS OR ANOTHER. THE FACT IT WORKED IN MUSKOKA, MEANT THE DEPARTMENT, UNDER THE JURISDICTION OF THE PROVINCE AND THE DOMINION GOVERNMENT, EAGER TO SETTLE OPEN LAND ACROSS THE COUNTRY, COULD THEN OPEN UP NEW FREE GRANT LAND TO THE NORTH, FOR LARGELY UNSUSPECTING SETTLERS, THINKING OF IT AS THEIR OWN SLICE OF PARADISE. UNTIL THEY FOUND OUT THE TRUTH, AND SOMETIMES THIS CAME TOO LATE.
I LEARNED A LOT MORE ABOUT THESE LONG ABANDONED HOMESTEADS, BY MAKING VISITATIONS, (BACK IN THE MID 1970'S, TO LATE 1980'S), THROUGHOUT THE MUSKOKA REGION, BECAUSE THEY INTERESTED ME MORE THAN THE LATER YEARS OF OUR HISTORY. YOU MAY NOT BELIEVE THAT MUCH COULD BE LEARNED FROM VISITING A HOMESTEAD PROPERTY, WHERE THERE ARE NO BUILDINGS STANDING, AND LITTLE TO INFILL THE PARTS OF THE STORY THAT ARE MISSING FROM THE SCHOOL TEXTBOOKS. I WENT TO THESE PROPERTIES, INITIALLY, TO DIG FOR OLD MEDICINE AND SODA BOTTLES, THAT WERE TYPICALLY DUMPED IN HOLLOWS, AT THE BASE OF HILLSIDES, AND OTHER PROPERTY DEEMED UNSUITABLE FOR FARMING; BUT ALWAYS NEAR THE DWELLING PLACES FOR CONVENIENCE. WHAT I LEARNED ABOUT THESE HOMESTEADS, BY IMMERSION, MAY HAVE STARTED IN THE GARBAGE MOUNDS, BUT EXTENDED WELL BEYOND WHAT WAS DISCARDED, FROM THE TIME OF THE FIRST SHANTY CONSTRUCTED ON-SITE, FOR BASIC PROTECTION. I NOTICED MANY THINGS ABOUT THE FARMSTEADS, AND OVER TIME, I COULD BEGIN TO IMAGINE HOW THE BUILDINGS MUST HAVE APPEARED, AFTER CONSTRUCTION, AND HOW THE INHABITANTS WOULD HAVE WORKED IN AND AROUND THE FIRST LOG SHELTER. THERE WERE SOME PROPERTIES I VISITED, WHERE THE OLD FARMHOUSES WERE STILL UPRIGHT; WITHOUT GLASS IN THE WINDOWS, AND OFTEN HALF-FALLEN, WHERE THE KITCHEN AREA HAD CAVED-IN, BUT THE PARLOR AND BEDROOMS WERE PRESERVED. I'VE HAD A CHANCE TO WALK THROUGH MANY OLD BARNS AND DRIVE SHEDS, OVERGROWN BY THE ONCE-CLEARED PASTURES. I HAVE NEARLY FALLEN DOWN A DOZEN OLD WELLS, AND ROOT CELLARS, AND ONCE, NEARLY HAD A CHIMNEY FALL ON MY HEAD, WHEN I OPENED A DOOR AND THE VIBRATION FROM BELOW, WAS ENOUGH TO CAUSE BRICKS TO FALL FROM THE DECLINING ROOF-TOP. I'VE FALLEN THROUGH BARN FLOORS, AND BEEN SERIOUSLY CUT BY BROKEN GLASS POKING UP FROM THE EARTH, IN THE TANGLE OF RUSTED METAL. I'VE HAD MANY INFECTIONS FROM THE CONTAMINATION OF SOIL AND POTENTIALLY THE CHEMICALS AND BACTERIA IN THE SOIL OF THESE DUMP SITES. I'VE HAD THE BEST GLOVES PUNCTURED BY THESE SHARP ITEMS, AND THE SOLES OF MY SHOES RIPPED APART BY JAGGED METAL HIDDEN BENEATH THE MOUNDS OF MATTED FIELD GRASSES, AND FROM NAILS IN OBSCURED BOARDS AROUND THE FORMER BARNS. MOST OF ALL, I HAVE LEARNED ABOUT WHAT IT MUST HAVE BEEN LIKE LIVING ON THESE ISOLATED PROPERTIES, AT A TIME WHEN THERE WERE NO ACCESSIBLE DOCTORS, OR HOSPITALS, AND THE MEDICINE BOTTLES FOUND IN THE EXCAVATIONS, WERE THE SUPPOSED REMEDIES, FOR ALL THAT AILED THEM. OR THEY DIED. WHEN I WAS CUT, AND AN INFECTION SET IN, I COULD GET PROPER CARE AND ANTI-BACTERIAL MEDICATION FOR THE WOUNDS. THE SETTLERS HAD TO RELY ON TRADITIONAL, NATURAL REMEDIES, AND OFTEN, THEY DIDN'T WORK; AND THE RESULT WAS, AT TIMES, A LONG, PAINFUL DEMISE. ONE CAN EASILY IMAGINE, THAT THERE WERE MANY INJURIES SUSTAINED, FROM WORKING AROUND A PIONEER HOMESTEAD, THAT REQUIRED SERIOUS MEDICAL ATTENTION TO REMEDY. AS FOR HARDSHIP, IT TOOK DECADES FOR THE KIND OF RELIEF, THAT MADE ISOLATED, IMPOVERISHED LIVING, OF LESSER BURDEN AND HARDSHIP. LESSER SUFFERING. SO EXCUSE ME FOR REBELLING AGAINST THE TAUGHT, GLOSSY OVERVIEW, AND ROMANTICISM, OF HOMESTEADING AS IT WAS IN THE 1850'S T0 188O'S IN THIS PICTURESQUE REGION OF THE PROVINCE OF ONTARIO. I KNOW IT TO HAVE BEEN MUCH DIFFERENT, AND IF THESE PROPERTIES ARE HAUNTED BY THE PAST, THERE IS A JUSTIFIABLE PRIVILEGE, FOR THEM TO BE SAD PLACES, OF PROFOUND MELANCHOLY; BECAUSE EVEN THE SUCCESSES, COULD HAVE ONLY ARRIVED, AFTER THE ETCHING OF TERRIBLE CIRCUMSTANCES; SUCH AS WATCHING AS MULTIPLE FAMILY MEMBERS PERISHED IN ONE NIGHT, THE RESULT OF AN EPIDEMIC, LIKE INFLUENZA; WHEN NO MEDICAL ASSISTANCE WAS AVAILABLE. THEN THERE WAS THE SOUND OF THE UNDERTAKER'S HORSES, PULLING THE WAGON OR HEARSE, THAT WOULD TAKE THE BODIES OF THE DECEASED DIRECTLY TO THE NEAREST CEMETERY. AN EXAMPLE OF THIS, ARE THE HIDDEN GRAVES OF THE DOUGHERTY FAMILY, BURIED ON THE SIDE OF A ROAD NAMED IN THEIR HONOR, IN THE HAMLET OF UFFORD, NEAR WINDERMERE; A FAMILY PLOT VERY FEW EVEN KNOW ABOUT TODAY. THERE ARE FOUR UNMARKED GRAVES NOT FAR FROM THEIR ORIGINAL HOMESTEAD, TODAY, MARKED ONLY BY A STAND OF OLD LILACS, A FEW METRES OFF THE TRAVELLED PORTION OF DOUGHERTY ROAD. I HAVE STOOD AT GRAVESIDE, AND LOOKED OVER THE ROTTING REMNANTS OF THE PICKET FENCE, BUILT BY SUZANNE'S GRANDFATHER, JOHN SHEA, IN THE LATE 1950'S; WHO FELT THE SITE SHOULD BE KNOWN TO ALL WHO PASSED THAT WAY. MOST OF THE FAMILY DIED IN ONE NIGHT, THE RESULT OF INFLUENZA, AND WERE BURIED IMMEDIATELY, TO AVOID THE SPREAD OF THE ILLNESS. THERE ARE SIMILAR BURIAL PLOTS THROUGHOUT THE REGION, THAT ONE DAY, AS DEVELOPMENT SPREADS INTO THE HINTERLAND, WILL BE DISTURBED AND UNCOVERED. WE WILL CONTINUE TO LEARN MORE ABOUT THE PIONEER PERIOD, BY DISCOVERING THEIR SKELETAL REMAINS, LOCATED, WHEN FOR EXAMPLE, A NEW SWIMMING POOL OR FOUNDATION IS DUG, WHERE ONCE SETTLERS TRIED TO EKE OUT A LIVING THROUGH THE SEASONS OF THE LILAC.
THE IMBEDDED SPIRITS THAT STILL WALK THE EARTH
Happy homesteads! I don't have a statistic on this either. Presumably, even in the years of most privations, and deepest isolation, there were pioneers and family, that with faith in God, found themselves full of positive spirit, and brimming over with joy in the harvest season of the rolling year. A majority of settlers in the Free Land Grant period, would have been strong of faith, and inherently felt spiritually connected, to their religious faith, and as such, in the sanctuary of home, the soil they tilled. It would undoubtedly have been this untiring faith that led them bravely through a succession of hardships, that were unavoidable in their vulnerable circumstances.
Hiking around, and exploring the old Muskoka homesteads, was very revealing to me; the immersion, and discovery, slowly chipping away the romantic facade of what I'd been taught about the settlement of the district. If the voyeur studied close enough, looking for hallmarks of the pioneering standard, it got easier to discern what had been false representation, via education, to what had been the startling actuality of the earliest years of settlement. I remember finding, almost overgrown with tree and bark, a small, fabricated cross, nailed to the trunk of a pine tree. While I was always interested in religious relics, and other antique treasures, I was immediately humbled by the fact it was so imbedded in the growth of the tree, suggesting it had been there for more than a century. I would never remove anything of that significance, which would have been parallel, at least in my mind, to ripping brass lettering and icons from tombstones, as some collectors have been known to scavenge. I stood for awhile, looking at the grown-over, barely visible rusted cross, and pondered why it had been nailed to a tree? Why was it important for a resident here, to place this, at what then would have been the six foot level of the tree trunk (probably then, free of limbs). It may be the case, a burial plot was situated close by, but I couldn't find any corresponding depression. I had nearly fallen into a gravesite once, situated on the shore of the Muskoka River; and by the way, on the way down, into the depression, you know exactly what it is, you're about to face-plant, by the rectangular indent in the ground. I caught myself before landing in the middle, thanks to an overhanging pine bough, that stopped my topple, face first into the grave. Along the rivers of our region, where the logging drive occurred, there were many graves dug for unfortunate loggers, who perished in the spring flow of crushing, crashing logs, especially near waterfalls and rapids. If they didn't have family in the region, and died in isolated sections of the district, burials were conducted anywhere a spade could penetrate the ground. Often right beside camps, and places where loggers halted for their meals.
The excavations on these homestead properties, in area of dump sites, often produced icons as well, which were often so corroded they were only slightly recognizable, in the clumps of earth and crusted rust that hung to them. I always wondered if they fell off accidentally, such as crosses with a chain, when the refuse was being dumped, or they'd given up on them, as a means of protection and spiritual belief. I prefer to believe that they were lost, while homesteaders were at toil, versus having given up faith in God. I suppose though, if you believe half of what I have just written, that there was every reason, to question faith, as catastrophes outnumbered successes, from a homesteader's perspective.
I'd frequently scoop up old toys, also barely recognizable, and ceramic ornaments, of dogs and cats, and sundry other vases, that must have adorned the farmsteads at some point in their history. The most unsettling of all the finds, even more so than uncovering crosses and assorted other icons, was the appearance of a porcelain doll face (of a half doll - the bottom half, having eroded away long before). I'm sure you will appreciate how unsettling a find like this would be, sending chills of discovery colliding with chills of fright. There is something about an antique doll, that to me, by its very essence and appearance, forever holds the spirit of a doting child and the memory imprint, of so many cheerful hours of play together. The appearance of the darkened face, stained with the rust of metal items in the vicinity, always demanded that I pause for a moment of contemplation, because that's how unsettling the discoveries were; and there were many over the decade. First, I would try to imagine the scenario, where something that could have been repaired, was unceremoniously dumped in the refuse pile. Or was it, like the crosses, and chains, accidentally deposited there, not to be found again. Could an angry brother or sister, have tossed away a sibling's favorite doll out of spite? I found a half dozen china doll tops that were broken, but that could have been from caused by the weight and bashing about, of all the debris tossed on top, over many decades. There were other china figurines that I'd uncover, that would later clean up, as if they were brand new. There was no way I could accept these throw-aways as usual, or unremarkable. Did a new owner of the property, potentially as an estate, decide to toss away ornaments and toys they found of no use, or appropriate decoration?
There was one memorable recovery, of a doll head and shoulders, minus its fabric bottom, that I thought was a tad more spirited than other recoveries, from what could be three-foot-deep holes. I had been digging, at around this time of year, on a cold and rainy afternoon. It wasn't raining when I started to dig, but about an hour into the day's scrounging, I began making some significant finds, especially a number of torpedo soda bottles, (type of bottle with a pointed end, or rounded bottom, that would sit on a special stand), which if identified by a raised glass label, could sell for upwards of fifty dollars in good condition. When it started to pour, I did have the sensibility to begin packing up, because it looked like it was going to continue raining for the rest of the day. I was putting away my little scrapers and shovel, when I looked down in the small pit, and saw something rounded and white. The rainfall was heavy enough, to wash away some of the muck, on the sides, and the erosion had revealed an interesting relic within a clump of tangled metal, including old tin cans which were bloody dangerous to any open flesh.
I got back down on my hands and knees, and began poking around this item, so as not to cause any damage, more than the piece already had, as a result of being crowded in this dump site. I cleared enough mud around the item, to cause it to pop loose, and drop to the bottom of the hole. On the way down, I knew that it was yet another doll top. It tumbled right into a significant pool of water, from nearby runoff, to the lowest point, which was my excavation. I couldn't use the shovel, because it was causing more erosion, and the little rake device, kept getting caught in the tin rings of the eroded cans. So the only way of rescuing the small doll piece, was to use my hand to scoop the bottom. I had to lean over the hole while, at the same time, the rim of earth was letting go, more each time I extended myself, to almost the other side of the opening; inadvertently causing more soil to drop into the depression. On several attempts, I very nearly lost my balance, which would have put me face first, in shrapnel-filled water and mud. After about fifteen minutes of scooping through the bottom muck, I was ready to surrender to the elements. I would come back another day. Just as I was about to get up, trying to get my knee connected to solid earth, I felt the sides caving-in, and I set my arms out to catch both sides. I was awkwardly positioned, with almost no way of regaining my hold, without having to fall in, and re-adjust my balance, from the depths of the hole instead. As if someone was pulling from behind, I felt the back of my raincoat being clenched, and the lift was obvious, as my hands could then get a better hold of what solid ground was left around the excavation. It was either my guardian angel, or one of the roaming spirits I have come to know on these abandoned homesteads. Whatever was firming-up my position, from the back, it was invisible, when I finally recovered, and turned to see the person who had come to my rescue. As you might expect, there was nothing to see. No guardian angel named Clarence. No hairy hand of Big Foot, outreached to help me to my feet. Or vapor of a ghost, wisping off into the darkness of the abutting pinery. I had apparently been saved from a nasty fall into a metal filled pool, by my own resistance, but as much as I replayed the moment, nothing made sense. So imagine my surprise, to find that the white doll's head, was stuck in the mud, now halfway up the side. I couldn't explain how this had happened, but if you take the paranormalist's slant on such things, a spirit obviously wanted me to find, and possess, that dear remnant toy. Or, somehow, with one of my scoops, into the water, I had, without knowing it, raised the piece, and somehow imbedded it in mud on the side. This is a reasonable assertion. What I can't explain, is why I didn't fall into the pit. What stopped me from falling-in? Was it the hand of providence, sparing me injury from the sharp metal, and glass fragments at the bottom. The securing pull, from behind, didn't raise me from my prone position, but it gave me enough time to re-establish my hold, and eventually raise myself off my knees. It was then, that I saw the doll portion, wedged just above the water surface. Did the former child owner of that doll, intervene, to pull her toy free of its entombment? It was just one of the odd situations I got into, working on these isolated, abandoned farmsteads, in those old clearings,
where settlers had for long and long, invested their lives, and their faith; God would provide for those of good and enduring spirit.
Please join me for more homestead adventures, in the next chapter of "The Seasons of the Lilac."
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