Time-lapse summer - Nesdoly

Hubby's farm home

Ah summertime — the season of reunions.  I've been to two this year, complete with jaunts back to Saskatchewan. I usually anticipate them with just a touch of dread. But so far every reunion I have been to has turned out better than I ever expected.

This summer's were no exception. It was wonderful to reconnect with old high school friends in Dalmeny on the July long weekend. The July/August long weekend just past saw us reuniting with hubby's family.

About a hundred of us Nesdolys found our way to the Rosthern arena at some point between July 29th and 31st. We did the usual reunion things—eat, visit, play games, look at pictures, eat, visit the homesteads and the cemeteries, eat some more, then line up in families for mass photo shoots.

One of the 30-somethings had put together a family photo slide show that looped throughout the three days. What fun to see the aunties and uncles—most no longer with us—in their somber 40's wedding poses, then the babies that were us, and the next generation that looked a lot like us, and on and on ...

The barn looks like some of us feel

One thing that hit me harder this reunion than any so far is how our kids are becoming the middle-aged ones and we the oldies. As parents, uncles and aunts slip away, suddenly we're the senior generation. Mind you, it's pretty obvious if you look at us, with our salt-and-pepper hair, lined and wrinkled faces, wattled necks and sagging middles. 

The summer kitchen - a deserted hazard

A visit to Grandpa Tim's farm site impressed on me even more the fact that nothing stays the same. The poor barn there looks like some of us feel.  The house is still liveable but hubby said immaculate housekeeper Auntie P. would have a conniption if she saw the current state of it. The summer kitchen is a deserted hazard.

We slogged through shoulder high grass and thistle to get to hubby's old farm home. His workboot from when we visited last ten years ago is still there but now, like too many family members, has lost its partner. The driveway has all but disappeared. It seems everything is getting covered, or stolen, or erased by time.

Farm home - a visit to the past

The boot has lost its partner

It's a sobering reminder of the brevity of life. Oh, I'm very familiar with the verses that describe man being as ephemeral as grass or smoke. But it's quite another thing to see that transience playing out like time lapse photography all around you. It's a challenge too, to fill  the days left with as much love and caring, joy and music, laughter and worship, photographs and good food as each will hold.


This post is linked to "In, On, and Around Mondays: Art is a Touchdown" at Seedlings in Stone. Come on over and join in the conversation.

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Website: www.violetnesdoly.com

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