Chilling Mate, in Twillingate

 At 2 am, I’m my way ‘ome to Newfoundland with my eldest, her hubby and three grandbabes.  They usually go in the spring or fall, so I’m happy that they're going to get a taste of the summer activities. The Twillingate Fish, Fun, Folk Festival is on next week so we'll be having some fun. 

The next group arrives half way through my stay. For two of them, this is their fifth anniversary for a Salt Harbour summer get away. I’m not naming any names, Kat and Dibs, but each year, they proclaim loud and long to the new recruits: “Don’t think about sleeping”, they warn. “Don’t think about chilling on the porch.  Don’t think about lazing around. Don’t even dare think about having time to create stuff or read. It ain’t gonna happen .” In fact, they have dubbed their annual excursion to the Rock – “Vacation Boot Camp”.  They have the newbies terrified.

When people ask Brian what we do out there, he says, ‘There’s nothing to do, and you won’t get it done’. That’s fairly accurate. The days do tend to fill up with all kinds of things that weren’t planned. A day out there unfolds; it generally just ‘happens’, and it happens to be hold many unexpected adventures and much fun.

I seem to have a reputation of keeping everyone on the go to the point of them needing a vacation. But the truth is, those dear friends who are quick to stick that on me, are absolutely guilty of it themselves; I’m just their scapegoat. At this point, I just sit back and let them steer and my heavens – hang on!  It is definitely not me who is causing the exhaustion.

In fact, on our visit out there this spring, a friend dropped by to invite me out for an evening photo shoot.  I was sitting in the rocking chair, reading. SITTING. READING. She actually was a little shocked.  I told her to take note … take a picture even … and tell all those who don’t believe that I chill when I’m out there, that I DO. I do. It is not always ME who is setting the manic agenda.  In fact when I was out there, I read two books. I also spent hours in front of the window, working on a floor cloth.

I started it three years for one of our monthly creative nights.  I had roughed in our place out there and had it sitting on the floor in the livingroom when my grandbabes came by. Scotty came out to report: “Lauren is scribblin’ on your thing in there.” Sure enough, there was three year old Lauren, busy with a pen.  I said ‘Oh Lauren, that’s Nana’s picture that I’m working on.” She looked at me with a scowl,  threw both hands up in the air and retorted with great impatience and disgust: “How sood I know? It looks like a colour sing to me.”  (a colour thing, as in colouring book) That line has become a favourite response for myself and my friends … “How sood I know?”  It’s all in the tone.

She actually did a remarkable job staying in the lines for her age. I left her window just how it was – there was no way I would paint over it.  It’s a wonderful memory which brings a smile to my heart and carries a lesson. Each time I look at it, I see that precious, beautiful little three year old in all her innocence and wisdom. It was confirmation to me to remember to not leave my ‘sings’ out for little hands, and also to try and remember to look at 'sings’ through the eyes of a child. The perspective is often refreshingly simple.

After not being able to find the time in three years to get that mat finished – it is now. And I did it out there. Leisurely. I intend to point that out to my Boot Camp friends when they want to blame me for the fact that we have done thirteen different things on any given day and they have not had time to sit on the porch and work on creative projects, which they love to do. Excuse me … I finished a painting. And I read a book. TWO books.