Yesterday, I was one of the marshals at Kingston Pride Parade. It was a great day. I took up the end behind the police car to be sure that everyone got through the intersections before the cars could continue on with their day.
I have posted here to show you a little bit of PRIDE of my own.
Just so you know this is a Steam Whistle (beer) who were there and who were also sponsors. I love that beer!
“People who have no dreams, are poor” ~ Bear the Tinker
It is two years since I met Bear the Tinker at my cousin’s organic farm. A Tinker is an travelling tinsmith for those of you who don’t know (I did not). The Tiny House where he lived and worked out of for many years, and still for much of the year is a Caravan which is drawn from place to place by his lovely horse and companion, Callum.
Meeting Bear stands out in my life as one of the great experiences. It is hard to describe him, his storytelling, his music his wit and his peace. The strength of presence of this man, and his connection to the past is something that one must experience to believe.
This is a clip from a great old TV show out of Canada. Bear the Tinker lives near Kingston Ontario.
If you see him on the road, stop! Ask him where he is heading next to tell stories and sharpen knifes, I am urging you, make Bear a part of your plan, even if you have to travel far to meet him. If you must work to arrange it, or travel to be where he is, please do so, treat yourself to this experience.
Here are the links so that you may find him….
Here is a tip (just in from Bear). If you want to meet him, he will be at the Delta Fair for 3 days, and events at Murphy’s Point Park on July 20 and August 3. Also FYI… he offers Yurt Building courses for small groups of 10-12 people. 😀
These are photos of my grandmother Violet and my grandfather Bob at thier Tiny House. These photos are about 25 years old, 1987 is my guess. I believe that she is about 65 years old and he is two years older here. The other people in the photos are an unknown neighbour and my Daddy, Richard. Mom was there too, but not shown because she took the photos with her then new 35 mm Olympus Trip camera.
Grandma and Grandpa did not live here, but bought this Tiny House on the Mississippi River in Ontario as a get-away. Tiny living as a full time thing would be out of the question for them because there are 19 of us in the immediate family and we all came for Sunday dinner; EVERY SUNDAY. Nineteen was not how many they had for Sunday dinners, because there were spouses and partners, we also brought others along, plus there was extended family and neighbours who also came by. They were people who really loved their family and unlike the people of today who ramble in their big mcmansions alone, they needed the big house with the HUGE table to fit us all! It was expected that they would have between 25 and 35 every week to dinner and they loved these get togethers.
Even so, I suspect that they enjoyed a little solitude from time to time. Grandma often spoke about their Tiny House haven in the wilderness, particularly after I told her about my Tiny House plans. Even though she was failing in health she came out to see what I built and when she came to visit she said ” I thought that you were building a Tiny House?” She was grinning from ear to ear.
Grandma worried that I might not like the Tiny House in the forest once I had it built because I am like her in the way that I love being around people. I told her that I would get visitors and that I would go out and see people too. I try to do this but as always she was right, I often feel lonely and wish more people would come.
I think it is interesting that Tiny Housers run in my family.
This is Baby. She is the reason I am posting so much right now. She made me go back to the grid.
Baby is the Tiny House Ontario steed, and my only wheels. She gets me where I need to go – except for right now… Baby is sick…
I was coming home on her at 2:00 am from a community gathering and she just plain quit… right there in the middle of the road. It was the second time that day… but this time I could not get her to start again. Thankfully, I was rescued first time by my sister/friend Liisa and in the middle of the night by my cousin Kenny who (not only knows the land but he) knows how to be at the right place at the right time.
Baby is in the bike hospital right now and they cannot find the problem with her. Something in her wiring; she runs for a bit and then stops cold.
Poor Baby.
Another confession: I believe that Garden Gnomes have magical power. It sounds totally illogical; I get that. I mean, I understand that they are cement, or resin or something man made and I also know that they are, largely, made in giant factories. Still, there is something enchanted about (some of) them.
I have not always thought this. As a matter of fact, until a few years ago, I never gave Garden Gnomes a second glance or even a moment of consideration. Everything changed about 12 years ago, I was a newly wed and even more newly living in Munich, Germany. I worked for NATO which was all the way across town on Cosimastrasse. I had just started to learn the language and did not even know enough German yet to be able to order a semmel or to ask for directions. After a particularly long day at work, I accidentally transferred to the wrong bus and had no idea where I was, so I asked the driver in my best Genglish… and he suggested (I think) that I should get off and walk two blocks to the East and get on the correct bus. This is when I got really lost.
I did not yet have a cell phone, and I was really panicked. It is more than just a little scary to be alone in a foreign country when you cannot speak the language. I walked, lost and lost in my own worry too. I came to a small cottage style house which had a huge yard with a stream running though it. The entire garden was filled with perhaps 200 Garden Gnomes who were working very hard on the property. They had wheelbarrows and shovels, rakes, buckets, they were crossing the bridge. Some were on break and sitting on spotted mushrooms, reading books, falling in love, chatting among themselves. Others were enjoying a lovely picnic. It was magic. The property was perfectly meticulous and every single Gnome was well groomed and perfectly detailed as well as situationally detailed. Seeing them, my worry washed away and I was drawn into their world. I walked around the little picket fence and looked at each of them, wishing as much now that I had a camera as well as a cell phone, because I thought, no one is going to believe this. So lovely, so fantastic, I stayed there perhaps an hour watching them.
It was coming to dusk and so I thought I will walk back again about 30 blocks to where I transferred and see if I can get home to my family and I memorized the route as I walked so that I could come back again with a camera.
Eventually, I did get home, and though I tried to get back to show my family that little cottage and the hard working Gnome community, I could never find it or them. We put miles and miles on our punch buggy looking for them.
Perhaps they were taken, house and all by the Garden Gnome Liberationists? This rogue organization is connected to the European Gnome Sanctuary is plagued with issues of their own.
After this, I guess, it is no surprise, I am interested in these wonderful little guys and when I arrived back in Canada, I bought a few Gnomes. They have become faded and sad looking over the years. This year with the Tiny House built, I thought I would wash them and repaint them True to the magical Gnome – they come back to life with a bit of attention.
Here is their renewal. Now I am going to hang out with my Gnomies… Boom-bada-bing!
“To my amazement I have heard that there are people who have never seen a gnome. I can’t help pitying these people. I am certain there must be something wrong with their eyesight.”
~ Axel Munthe, Swedish psychiatrist, 1857-1949
Tiny House Ontario 