Obituary for Isabel

Ottawa:

ELLIOTT, Marion Isabel (nee McDermid) After a brief stay in hospital, Ottawa, on Wednesday, October 21, 2009, at the age of 84. Beloved wife of the late Donald. Loving mother of Jean Marengere (Yvon), and John Elliott ( Norma). She will be lovingly remembered by grandchildren Shauna, Tarryn, and Nathan; and step-grandchildren Marcus Joseph, Chantalle Marengere, and Phillipp Marengere (Elizabeth). Survived by sisters Beverley Devine and Grace Teske; predeceased by sisters Eileen McKay, Helen Murray; brothers Keith and Kenneth McDermid. Friends may visit at the Central Chapel of Hulse, Playfair & McGarry, 315 McLeod Street, (at O'Connor) Ottawa, from 2-4 pm and 7-9 pm Friday, October 23. The Funeral Service will be held in the Chapel on Saturday, October 24 at 11 am. Contributions in Isabel's memory may be directed to the Ottawa Heart Institute.

Sadness rains

Ottawa:

Isabel on her 84th birthday, March 2009

The funeral for Isabel Elliott will be held at Playfair and McGarry, 315 McLeod Street, Ottawa at 11 a.m. on Saturday, October 24th.

Immediately after the service, guests are invited to join us in the reception room for a bite to eat. Those who wish may accompany the family to the burial at Capital Memorial Gardens. 

Today the skies are heavy in sympathy with our hearts.

We are sad

Ottawa:

John's mom, Isabel Elliott, died this morning. We were at the hospital nearly all night, arriving home around 5am. She had pneumonia (the old person's friend, they tell me) and breathing was very difficult for her. I (daughter-in-law) suggested that it might be a kindness to find a way to make her last hours easier. The doctors agreed, and shortly after that she was put on a ventilator. She must have known what was ahead so she called me over and told me what hymns she wanted sung at her funeral. My brain kicked into overdrive and for the first time in a long time, I remembered every word she told me. 

Before the doctors arrived, we hugged and kissed her, exchanged loving words, and then it was time. We had to leave the room and when we were allowed back in, we could no longer talk to her. Nevertheless, we stayed for hours. John and I, John's sister and her husband. We chatted quietly, or as quietly as some people know how to chat. 

The four of us left for home around 4:30. We were asleep before our heads hit the pillow.

The phone woke us around 6am. Isabel had left the building. 

I wrote down the hymns Isabel had said she wanted. 

We are sad. We are busy. I'll write more later.

Red shag carpet project - Phase I

Hillgrade:

As most of you know by now, we're slowly fixing up an old house in Newfoundland. It was built, we think, sometime around 1875, but nobody is sure. Could be older. Given the state the shores [Upright Post supporting a house above ground level] were in when we raised the house, I'd say so.

  Red shag in living room circa 2007
Anyhow, we finally took the bull by the horns this week and tore up the red shag carpet that was in the living room and on the stairs and along the upstairs hallway. Actually, the upstairs hallway still has it, but the rest is gone. Took it to the dump this morning in the pouring rain. Fellow at the dump said that there's no doubt we're from Ontario because no self-respecting Newfie could be caught dead at the dump when it's this wet. He's probably right.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

We had um'd and ah'd about taking up this carpet since we bought the place three years ago. Not that we didn't want it up. Heck, it probably harboured life forms that nobody in their right minds would want living with them. But we had on several occasions pulled up a corner here, a loose bit there, just to see what was underneath. All we saw was plywood, pressboard, odds and sods of other kinds of wood filling in the gaps, and scraps of canvas peeking out here and there. Neighbours told us to expect newspaper in places as well. (We did find newspaper in the walls when we got to them a couple years later). So we knew it would be dog's breakfast once we started. And thing is, once you start, it's hard to stop since one disaster leads to another.

But, curiousity got the better of us yesterday. And we debated the best way to proceed. We decided to pull up just one section and see what we were faced with underneath. If it was too awful, we'd put the plywood/carpet, etc. back again and forget about it until we felt stronger in a year or two.

We decided to start near the kitchen door in what would have originally been part of the central hallway. That carpet bit was easy since it was a separate piece that was just laid down. Two nails held it in place. Easy peasy. Underneath was three pieces of plywood, held down by mostly nails, but also enough rusty screws to give us trouble. And not only were they rusty, but they were bent. Watching them come out of the wood was like watching a flower emerge from the ground looking for the sun. Round and round the head went.


Floor boards as uncovered Aug 2009Under the plywood, once we swept up the dust of the last 50 years was something painted that I thought was floor boards because there were grooves like wide old boards. I was getting excited, but it turned out to be just painted wall paneling. Up that came.

Next was a layer of canvas - faded, worn, brittle and nasty. Up that came. And lo and behold, beneath that was wood. Wide wood boards. Worn down in the centre by many footsteps. Discoloured in spots, shiny in spots. In other words. Once we vacuumed and swept, they looked very nice. I could live with them like that if I had to. Might want to sand down the old knots that have risen up like pimples to the surface -- or rather that the boards have worn down around the knots.

And so Phase I was complete. We knew what to expect underneath, or at least what to hope for.


  Living room with canvas floor (post chimney removal)We felt so encouraged, we figured we could take the carpet up from the rest of the living room floor. This section had previously been a room separate from the hallway where we had excavated earlier and underneath the carpet here we found old canvas. See picture at right. Green wavy pattern with yellow flowers. Worn and cracked in places, but we can live with it until we're ready to excavate further. I'm sure I've walked over canvas like that many times growing up. Might even have watched my mother pull a mop over something very similar.

We did find a mess under the carpet around where the chimney used to be. There was no canvas there and the plywood was quite black. Figured we'd better get rid of that asap since who knows what was on it. Probably just encrusted soot, but we didn't take any chances and put on masks to take it up and throw it out in the trailer.

Phase II will come later. We'll work on a section at a time as we feel the urge.


Pink, white and green stepsThis morning, before heading to the dump, we decided to uncover the stairs. The carpet was held to the stairs by rods. The rods are held to the stairs by screw eyes that had been painted so many times they're part of the stairs. No way they we were going to get those off in a hurry. So we had to cut the carpet off. Took forever.

But the hard work was all worth it because under the carpet, the stairs are crudely painted in the colours of the old Newfoundland flag - pink, white and green. I love it. And I'm so tempted just to leave it like that. Maybe I should tidy up the edges but maybe not. What do you think? Let me know.

And so, the shagging carpet, er I mean the red shag carpet is no more. It's soaking up rain in the dump as I write. And the living room actually has a lot more light than before. Shows off the paint job we did on the walls a week or two ago.

Once we expose the floor boards, we'll see what we'll do with them. John is tending to want to leave them bare, maybe just some verethane. I'm leaning towards painting them and making a canvas rug for the living room (not anytime soon, needless to say).

Oh, and check out the cushions on the couch. I've been knitting and crocheting since we got here and these two cushion covers are the result. Starting on a lap quilt next. With fish on it.

And so it goes.

Sweet William is bleeding?

Hillgrade:

Our garden is only a little less of a mess than it was last year. In the fall before leaving, I planted some bulbs - tulips and daffodils and anything else that was interesting and available at the local hardware store. Neighbours tell us that they enjoyed the display of colour in the spring so I guess something worked. One thing for sure. I'll have to get a volunteer to deadhead the tulips next spring if we're not here. We found out what happens when you don't. They form seed pods. Strange things. I didn't believe it when I saw it and thought they were mummified tulips blooms. I didn't even know tulips produced seed pods. I thought they grew only from bulbs. Of course, Ottawa is not the place to find tulip seeds since the bulbs are whipped out of the ground before the blooms have even fallen. I understand that one can plant the seeds but then it takes about seven years to produce anything resembling a tulip. I'll pass. I cut the pods and put them in a dry vase where they very quickly deteriorated to a white, powdery rotten mass. Guess I'll throw them out and see if the birds like them.

The rest of the garden was pretty much fence-to-fence weeds. And tall. Fortunately, most of them were mature and were easy to pull out, leaving bare ground. I pulled the last of these yesterday. (And got stung by the tiniest nettle I've ever seen. A baby. Barely as big as the tip of the Bluenose on a dime.)

The Mother-of-Thyme that I planted in the fall hasn't died, but it hasn't prospered either. Still five sad mounds, although they did flower nicely. It may be because they're in the shade most of the day and most sources recommend full sun. However, if they survived a winter in Hillgrade, they are most likely hardy enough to withstand anything. I might just have to fill in with some more plants.

On one side of the house is a hill, okay a rise. A rocky rise. Probably eight to ten feet above the level of the rest of the garden. It's covered mostly with grasses, coltsfoot, sheep sorrel, some purple clover, ladies mantle and moss. The lady who lived here before used the outcroppings of rock to clean her paint brush so we have blue and pink and purple hued rocks between the wildflowers. Silas, the neighbour's cat, likes to view the world from this hill.

There is also a growing patch of Snow on the Mountain. I really don't want it and will have to see if I can at least contain it. But pulling it up will be tricky since I don't want to lose whatever bit of soil there is.

Growing among the Snow on the Mountain are Sweet Williams. Lots of Sweet Williams. Pink. White. Deep Pink, and multi-hued Sweet Williams. So many that they were spilling into the area that we want to use for a walkway. I hesitated for days but then decided it was best to just get it over with and I picked the ones that needed to be gone so that John could mow the area. I ended up with two large bouquets of Sweet Williams, one on the kitchen table and one in the window near the stove, for the enjoyment of all who passed.

We then noticed droplets of water on the table near the bouquet. Wiped them up and wondered if we'd been messy eaters the previous night at dinner. By nightfall, there were more drops of water on the table. Just under the perimeter of the bouquet on one side.

That was nearly two weeks ago. The bouquets are still looking wonderful (have changed the water only twice in that time) and we are still seeing drops of water on the table. A day or two ago we were finally able to find water on the plant just above the drops on the table. And again this morning.

So are the Sweet Williams crying or bleeding?

Here are a few more photos: 

Yellow Loosestrife growing up against the woodshed; 

Yarrow (as a child we called this Dead Man's Flower)

Monkshood which hasn't yet flowered and which I think might be poison if we were to serve it for breakfast.

Adventures in Iceberg Alley

Hillgrade:

Okay, so we didn't exactly have an adventure, at least not by dictionary standards, but I thought it was a snappy title.

What does anyone do when they get close to Twillingate? They go see icebergs, that's that. There are so many bergs here now that locals can't remember when they had more at the same time. And that brings the tourists. They tell me that the TCH up to Twillingate the Sunday before last was bumper to bumper.

So we trailed up to Durrell (which is the best place to see the ice) last week, and again this week. Icebergs are living, breathing things, ever changing, every creaking and groaning, rolling and splitting.

Here are some pictures showing the view last week (on the left) and this week (on the right). I didn't exactly line up the lens this week, but you'll forgive me. My intentions were good.

Views of Durrell bergs on July 16 (left) and July 21 (right)

And two more, zoomed in:

The two pics below show a berg which disintegrated before our eyes. Poof! I managed to capture the final cloud of ice. 

Berg before it exploded

What's left of the berg except some splash

Pic below shows a berg-y bit shaped like a whale, or a dolphin, depending on your preference.

Tonight we're going into Twillingate to see the arrival of Captain Bob Bartlett's ship The Bowdoin, as part of Celebrating Bartlett 2009 , a province-wide celebration of 100 years since Bartlett made his first Arctic expedition. I have to say I feel a special kinship, having grown up in Brigus, Bartlett's birthplace, and knowing his family personally. 

So, expect another blog post tomorrow, or as soon as I can get myself organized. It's cold here, so it's a good time for doing stuff like blogging and reading and taking short, very short, walks. Frost predicted for tonight. Good thing I brought my hat and gloves. Odd thing is that I don't resent the weather here, but if it were to be this cold in Ottawa, I'd be furious. (At whom I have no idea!)

On the Rock Again

Hillgrade:

So. Here we are. Back in Newfoundland. Back in Hillgrade. A little (okay, a lot) late getting here this year due to having stuff that just wouldn't go away at home (the other home). But we made it. Drove over 2300 miles in three days, had an overnight boat trip thrown in for good measure, and we finally put our key in the door here on Wednesday afternoon, July 15th.

Aunt Edith's 90th birthday party

Three days later, we were off again, this time to Corner Brook for the celebration of my Aunt Edith's 90th birthday on Sunday. It was difficult deciding whether to beg off due to extreme fatigue (wouldn't have been a word of a lie) or to just suck it up and go, add another 700 km to the total. I called my Aunt Mary where we would be staying and she was looking forward to us coming. I just didn't have the heart to tell her we were too tired to drive all the way out there and back... so we went. I did the driving this time, giving poor John a much needed break.

On the way out, we came upon a car that had just hit a moose. The poor thing was lying at the side of the highway as though he had just lain down for a nap. His legs were in strange positions and I hope the RCMP officer who was at the scene had already put him out of his misery if he hadn't been killed outright. The people in the car were all fine. Milling about and moaning about their fender which was dragging on the ground.

I wish Newfoundland would do what New Brunswick has and erect fences along the highway to keep moose and other large animals from crossing. It would cost some money but lives (human, even) would be saved. That is usually enough to get people moving since saving lives of moose is not on anyone's agenda here. The poor animals are cursed left and right, but you don't hear anyone complaining when they get a bit of moose for their freezer.

As I was saying to John the other day, I don't remember wildlife playing such a large part in Newfoundland life when I was growing up. Moose were there, for sure, but not in the current numbers. [Note: Four moose were introduced into Newfoundland from New Brunswick in 1904. By 1930 the numbers had increased enough to allow a hunting season to happen.] 

I also don't remember any issues about bears. People go camping here now and are just as likely to come upon a bear as see a trout jump in the stream. Come to think of it, probably more likely, since the streams are getting fished out. And squirrels. Never had them growing up as well. Ditto for coyotes. I mean really. Coyotes are desert creatures, aren't they? Or have I just seen too many Wile E Coyote cartoons?

My aunt Edith had a lovely birthday party. Didn't get a chance to take any pictures except one of her. I used the flash which I think startled her and I thought she was going to say something to me about blinding an old lady. She didn't but it threw me enough that I put the camera down and forgot about it until it was too late and everyone had gone home.

Nice to see so many cousins and relatives of all descriptions. My son should come to Nfld with me sometime. He thinks his family consists of just me and him. (Gosh, can you tell I've been talking like a Newfoundlander for a week!) Ha.