By this point I had been out west for a month, but I had spent virtually no time on Salt Spring Island. So in spite of my desire to spend time with my grandson, within a day or two of coming back from the folk festival I was on the ferry heading to that tiny island and the house that has been my summer home for the past few years.
The first night I was there we went down to the Treehouse - an outdoor restaurant in Ganges and watched a friend of Sally's sing a few songs. I had seen Susan at her CD release party at Hugh's Place in Toronto last November and it was good to see her sing again. However before she sang, we watched a most remarkable act on the waterfront.
A couple from France, who were sailing around the world earning money performed this remarkable ballet/acrobatic show on their sail boat that was anchored twenty or so meters from the boardwalk. They used the riggings and the boom like they were natural extensions of the water. The two of them were far superior to any of the acts that I saw at the Busker’s Festival in Victoria. They were graceful and strong, the act had some humour in it, but most amazingly the love story they told was so powerful that I am sure I was not the only one who stopped breathing at the sheer poetry of it all. It was quite a night!
I spent just over two weeks at Sally’s. I don't know where the time went. I watered the garden most evening, I repaired the foot rest of Sally's chair, I resurface some salad bowls, the teak dining table and a large coffee table, repaired a silk shawl and a small leather foot stool. But those jobs only took a little bit out of my day. Most of the time I just hung around and chatted to whomever was there. If Sally was busy I read outside, if she was alone then we chatted about life, politics and anything else that came up. As always sometimes we argued about our quite different views of how the world works. As always we enjoyed being together. On occasion I cooked for her and her guests if her workers were busy doing something else. I once even cook some chili for a number of ladies who were coming over for an evening of singing and chanting. I didn't stay for the music. The irony of the "man of the house" cooking for some ladies and then leaving them was not lost on me or anyone else.
The time for me to leave and get back to Duncan arrived all too quickly. My son was getting married and I wanted to be around for at least ten before the wedding so that I could be there to help. The plan was that I would come back and say good bye to Sally after the wedding. The plan was to bring my daughter and my two grandchildren from Sudbury over to meet Sally. It never happen. And so Sally and I never had the chance to say goodbye. The thought saddens me still. I miss the island and I miss that other part of my family.
Salt Spring Island, or at least Sally's version of the island is a remarkable place where everyone knows you, where every cares about and believes in you and where all things are possible if you just have faith. I am not sure if I could live there forever. But I wish that I could try to live there, to immerse myself in a land filled with people who are beautiful in their love for each other and who always welcome me like I belong there.
The first night I was there we went down to the Treehouse - an outdoor restaurant in Ganges and watched a friend of Sally's sing a few songs. I had seen Susan at her CD release party at Hugh's Place in Toronto last November and it was good to see her sing again. However before she sang, we watched a most remarkable act on the waterfront.
A couple from France, who were sailing around the world earning money performed this remarkable ballet/acrobatic show on their sail boat that was anchored twenty or so meters from the boardwalk. They used the riggings and the boom like they were natural extensions of the water. The two of them were far superior to any of the acts that I saw at the Busker’s Festival in Victoria. They were graceful and strong, the act had some humour in it, but most amazingly the love story they told was so powerful that I am sure I was not the only one who stopped breathing at the sheer poetry of it all. It was quite a night!
I spent just over two weeks at Sally’s. I don't know where the time went. I watered the garden most evening, I repaired the foot rest of Sally's chair, I resurface some salad bowls, the teak dining table and a large coffee table, repaired a silk shawl and a small leather foot stool. But those jobs only took a little bit out of my day. Most of the time I just hung around and chatted to whomever was there. If Sally was busy I read outside, if she was alone then we chatted about life, politics and anything else that came up. As always sometimes we argued about our quite different views of how the world works. As always we enjoyed being together. On occasion I cooked for her and her guests if her workers were busy doing something else. I once even cook some chili for a number of ladies who were coming over for an evening of singing and chanting. I didn't stay for the music. The irony of the "man of the house" cooking for some ladies and then leaving them was not lost on me or anyone else.
The time for me to leave and get back to Duncan arrived all too quickly. My son was getting married and I wanted to be around for at least ten before the wedding so that I could be there to help. The plan was that I would come back and say good bye to Sally after the wedding. The plan was to bring my daughter and my two grandchildren from Sudbury over to meet Sally. It never happen. And so Sally and I never had the chance to say goodbye. The thought saddens me still. I miss the island and I miss that other part of my family.
Salt Spring Island, or at least Sally's version of the island is a remarkable place where everyone knows you, where every cares about and believes in you and where all things are possible if you just have faith. I am not sure if I could live there forever. But I wish that I could try to live there, to immerse myself in a land filled with people who are beautiful in their love for each other and who always welcome me like I belong there.
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