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The Pot's On, C'mon Inside

Thursday, November 01, 2007

I was raised with a "community" mentality.

Yes, we were considered "rural", being seven miles from the nearest town. But we lived in a pioneering community whose roots--and neighbourly ties--ran deep. My family, and many others in the area, had been prolific breeders, and many were inter-married with the other pioneering families. So not only was everyone within a five-mile radius your neighbour--they were most likely your relative. (My friends and I used to joke that I would have to move just to find a boy I could date! This didn't turn out to be true, but only because Jason was born in Saskatchewan, and didn't move to Red Deer area until he was in Grade School.)

I sometimes think that the reason driveways tend to be a little longer in the country is that you have a little more lead-time to get the coffee-pot on. You see the vehicle slowing down as it approaches your mailbox, and you holler "Put the coffee on, Martha! Ned's comin' in!" By the time he approaches your doorstep, the fragrant aroma is already wafting on the breeze, and there's no way a good neighbour would turn down a friendly cup with good company. (Everyone knows that's the reason he came over in the first place--to "set a spell.")

Actually, Martha really was my paternal grandmother's name*, and she was probably the personification of this country hospitality in my mind. If anyone ever always had coffee on, and always had cookies in the cookie jar, it was her. Growing up a farm wife, with nine children (eight of which are boys!) and numerous farm-hands and shop-hands around for every meal and coffee break, no wonder she cooked for twenty all the time, and the coffee-pot never ran dry. I wonder what would've happened if it had? Would the household's whole social order have fallen into chaos?

This "pot's always on, and there's always more room at the table" mentality was passed on to my father, and then to me. Jason often jokes that I don't know how to cook for two--which I don't. When it was just the two of us, I'd still cook for about eight and we'd be eating it for the next two weeks, because at that time we did not even have a deep freeze, other than what was included with the refrigerator. Even now, I often (purposely) plan for about double the portion we need. If someone shows up just in time for supper, great! We can throw a few more plates on and we're good. If no one does, great! We can throw the leftovers in the fridge or the freezer, and enjoy another, less labour-intensive meal later in the week.

If you ever happen to drop in on me when it is not mealtime, one of the first questions out of my mouth is likely to be "Would you like some tea? Water? Hot Chocolate? Coffee?" (Okay, the first four questions.) We are not coffee-drinkers as a general rule, but there is something about having a hot beverage in your hand that gives you an excuse to linger, to not rush out the door and back to your busy life. In this day and age where heading over to the neighbours just to set a spell is almost unheard-of, we need these excuses to slow down and catch up with each other. Our door is always open for visitors. (Okay, realistically, not really. If we're not here, we lock the door. I mean, c'mon people. We live in town--right across from some high-density housing! We're friendly, but we're not idiots. But! If you show up before we actually have to leave, you are welcome to hang out as long as you want--just lock the door and turn off the lights behind you!)

When I first moved in here, it didn't take me long to realize that I had some very interesting neighbours. I first noticed it when I saw some of them peeking in the window, hands cupped over their eyes to block out glare, watching what we were doing. One of them had their ear pressed to a glass against the window. I went to the door to tell them they were welcome to come in for a cup of tea, but as soon as they saw me, they bolted--I barely caught a glimpse of their faces.

However, they kept coming back. I would see their footprints in the snow, or the flowers in the front bed might be a little trampled. Sometimes I would even be talking with friends or family in other places and they would say, "Oh, I read your blog watched you do such-and-such the other day."

"Really?" I would ask, a little non-plussed. "Why didn't you knock and tell me you were there? We could have had tea."

"Oh," they would say, looking a little lesser-plussed than myself. I'd feel bad for making them feel bad, so eventually I stopped asking that question. I was just glad they were coming by to see me, even if they didn't stop in to say hello.

I've lived here at the Winters' Day In for over a year and a half, now. Some of the neighbours have managed to overcome their shyness and make themselves known, while some remain, lurking by the window, watching from the outside. I allow this voyeurism--the curtains remain open, and I just hope that someday, they will get up the nerve to come in out of the cold, sit by the fire and drink some hot cocoa with whipped cream on my couch, so I can get to know them a little better.

This is the first day of NaBloPoMo '07. I have made the commitment to post something to my blog every day for the month of November. I would just like to open up the month with this invitation:

Whether you have been reading my blog for a while now, or just started, I invite you to comment on at least one post this month. If you want to protect your anonymity, that's fine--you are allowed to comment anonymously on this blog. Don't fear the security system--it is only meant to protect the WDI from random drive-by shootings, not those who actually want to partake of its hospitality. And do check back--I respond to comments 95% of the time.

You never know--you might find you like it.

*To my knowledge, we (and they) had no neighbours by the name of "Ned".

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8 comments

  1. I'm always a little disappointed when we're over at someone's house and they don't have an after dinner hot beverage...it's my favorite part. :)

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  2. Good start! Rooting for you through November!

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  3. I've wanted to comment here all my life.

    Love,
    Holleen Cilman

    xo
    P.S. I'm thirsty. Got chai?

    ReplyDelete
  4. Darn it! THIS is what I, Holleen Cilman - wanter of commenting here all my life, meant to do.

    ReplyDelete
  5. I know this does not affect the premise of your blog post but I truly believe in accurate information and there is a minor error in your post.

    I hate to correct my own wife but I did not move to Red Deer during grade school. I was approximately 18 months old.

    However I did move to Sylvan Lake the before grade 4 started. This may be where the confusion is.

    Love Jason
    P.S. Would you like me to make you some guilty free hot chocolate dear?

    ReplyDelete
  6. what a wonderful tribute to grandma Martha. It is so much like her that it brings tears to my eyes. what and act to try to follow and I hope I did not fail miserably. Miss those days of coffe at the farmhouse with Emil and everyone else. It was 2 years ago that he died. Miss him so much and those big hugs he gave everyone. Please relay my birthday wished to Jude. They are growing so much. God's Peace.Love.

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  7. Anne - I feel the same way. I have a few friends that don't drink tea--but fortunately, we are on good enough terms that they don't mind if I make some for myself!

    Rohini - Thanks! And thanks!

    Colleen - You make me laugh. A lot. Oh, I mean Holleen. And yes, chai anytime at this house.

    Hon - Thanks for correcting my erroneous information. Let this be marked down as the first time my husband has successfully commented on my blog!

    Virginia - I don't think anyone expected you to be Martha, so please stop feeling like they did. And there was always something so restful about coffee in that house, I agree. Thinking of you. I'll pass your message along to Jude. Love.

    ReplyDelete

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