The Rural Voice, 2004-03, Page 8J.R. FARMS
EAST FRIESIAN
DAIRY SHEEP
> Breeding Stock and FI crosses
> Milk production records
available
> Closed Flock. Maedi -Visna
OPP - negative
> Economically priced
BILL AND LAURA MCKAY
RR 2 Tavistock, ON
NOB 2R0
(519) 462-1446
e-mail: jrdairysheep@execulink.com
CANADIAN
CO-OPERATIVE
WOOL GROWERS
LIMITED
Now Available
WOOL ADVANCE PAYMENTS
Skirted Fleeces
Well -Packed Sacks
For more information contact.
WINGHAM
WOOL DEPOT
John Farrell
R.R. 2, Wingham, Ontario
Phone/Fax 519-357-1058
4 THE RURAL VOICE
Carol Riemer
Wishful winter thinking
Carol Riemer
is a freelance
writer u•ho
lives with her
husband and
two
children near
Grand
Vallee,
Ontario.
A friend once told me that he did
his best thinking in winter. It's a quiet
time of year. and once comfortably
ensconced on the couch. by the
warmth of a flickering fire. he could
happily forget the wicked winter
wind outside, and concentrate on
countless plans for the coming
season. They were faultless, brilliant
strategies for success, he assured me.
with the added benefit of never
having been subject to either risk or
failure.
Although planning is only half of
the job, from my perspective. it's
definitely the better half. When
things go wrong, I'm likely to scrap
everything, sharpen my pencil and
start all over again. It's only when
some faulty, misguided plan. fraught
with chaos and disaster. actually
makes it to the production stage that
the real trouble begins.
The birdhouse incident comes to
mind. It is late, on a snowy Sunday
afternoon. For some strange
reason, I am determined to show my
doubting husband the inherent
simplicity of constructing a solidly
engineered structure that is strictly
for the birds.
Having taken a firm stand on the
matter, there is no going back. 1 am
not about to admit that nails have a
fatal tendency to cringe and bend,
when met by my inexperienced
hammer. Believing that nailing
together a few pieces of wood for a
bird house is nothing more than
child's play, I persevere.
To my dismay, I find out that
belief, in itself, is not enough to
ensure success. The result is a
haphazard, lopsided expression of
independence that eventually finds its
way into the kindling box.
There is nothing left to do, but
conclude that my talents must lie in
the planning end of things.
Investing in a clipboard. 1 sharpen
half a dozen pencils, and start to
work, using my critical aye for
detail. It doesn't take long before
realize that planning can he a never-
ending process. After identifying a
dripping kitchen faucet that needs
repair. 1 go out to fetch some
firewood. where 1 discover that the
weathered, old door to the wood shed
still sticks. Anchored by antique
hinges that continue to whine for oil,
this project goes to'head of the list.
On my way hack, 1 make a mental
note of the loose hoard on the deck
steps, and the mailbox that has taken
on a particular tilt, these days.
The fence posts need
straightening. and there are trees that
need pruning. Fresh mouse prints in
the snow remind me that the War of
rhe Rodents is not over. 1 figure, with
most of that out of the way. my
husband should have just enough
time to climb up on the roof, sweep
the chimney and nail down a couple
of loose shingles, before building
those shelves in our daughter's room.
Exhausted from all this planning. I
decide to settle down on the couch.
and gaze into the fire. Before
long, I find myself dreaming of
spring, and praying for the sun to
melt the snow banks at the bottom of
our driveway. Maybe. this year,
spring will come early. and we can
get a head start on the garden.
Until then, 1 really wish that my
husband would show a little more
enthusiasm, when 1 hand him my list
of things to do. After all, planning is
something of an art. If he only knew
how much work went into it, I'm sure
he would understand. But, then again,
I could be wrong. Like the ill-fated
bird house, this may be just another
case of wishful winter thinking.0