The Refuge

I impulsively started a blog yesterday, about my favourite thing in the world … my home, and its history. There’s so much being said in the world at the moment that I was expecting profound indifference.

Then my Twitter friend @cawiezel31 said this:

“Keep posting pictures. Something positive through all the hate…”

Perhaps you, like me, could do with a refuge. So, let’s make one. It’s going to be right here, and I’m going to talk about the people, places and stories that I love and that make me feel safe and secure. We have so many world wide travellers now, and I love their photographs and tales from magical places far away. But, I am a homebody. My favourite place is right here, and given the choice, I will almost always want to stay in the peace and safety of home.

These days, we hear a lot about eating locally and buying local products and I think that this concept can apply to history as well. It’s good for us to know about where we live, and I cherish the opportunities to help other southern Albertans learn about their own lovely setting.

Having said that, I have no intention of giving up coffee or oranges. When I’ve travelled abroad, I’ve been thrilled to see places that I’ve read and day dreamed about my entire life and witness those stories come to life. It is exciting and exhilarating to experience the world through the eyes of a visitor, and to begin to feel that even when we are far from home, there are people who make us feel welcome and wanted. So, maybe I’ll be a tourist of southern Alberta … from southern Alberta.

I love newborn crocuses, the hand painted prairie sky, old music and stories and buildings, my neighbours — both old and new, my great-grandmother’s vintage tea cups, and opening the window first thing in the morning this time of year, hoping to hear meadowlarks.

If you could do with a cup of tea on the porch with a neighbour (maybe we’ll have to relocate indoors near the wood burning stove as the prairie wind is chucking things across the yard) please feel free to hang out here. In the manner of the old prairie tradition, I won’t lock this door in case someone needs help or a home.


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