I’m not one for settling into a predictable boring life. There is a lot I have to do to maintain a friendship with myself. For example, last year, our car was on it’s last wheels so to speak, and instead of buying a car with the money in  our tiny bank account, we bought a little boat. Still a mode of transportation, we figured. It didn’t help that our car died in the next 6 months. But things tend to work out.

My point in that story, was that I have to do adventurous things to maintain a friendship with myself. I have to be able to look at my life and find myself interesting. I like change and adventuring, unless- apparently, I’m pregnant. If I’m pregnant, I prefer being boring. I prefer nesting into a cozy little hole and piling the blankets around my head and reading classic pregnancy books like “The Guide to Childbirth” and “The Active Birth” and “Birth Reborn” and “Your Birth, Your Way.” But instead, I am tucking my instincts away, under the pile of blankets, and I am packing my house up into boxes to go to the recycling centre, the Nu-to-U and the dump. I am extracting my treasures and putting them in tupperware boxes with labels like “In Case of Fire, Please Grab First!” and “Manda’s Most Precious Possessions, to be brought into the after-life.”

And we have been avoiding small breakdowns like “All I want is frozen pizza for dinner and we have no pizza pan!” and “Where is the pepper? Don’t tell me we packed the pepper?!”

Yes moving is challenging. But, we now have somewhere to move to. Granted, we will be in limbo for a few weeks as we sort out mooring etc. But, read this: We now have a home!

This is our 47 ft home. It is sitting in Sidney, BC right now, awaiting transport, and awaiting a mooring slip at the dock on Pender. Awaiting a new adventure. From farming to sailing, we are onto a new stage.

Don’t worry, the bees will still be happening. I can’t give up my favourite spatula and half my kitchen appliances and the bees now can I?

May long weekend has always held the tradition of camping for Marc and I. But this year we decided on a different outdoor trip. Last September we had the luxury of buying a little sailboat at a very reasonable price. It was such a great deal that Marc bombed up to Sechelt on the Sunshine Coast just to snaffoo this before someone else came along and recognized this bargain.

Nesika (Native for the collective “we”) is our 25 ft C&C sailboat. She can sleep 4 but 2 feels pretty crowded. She’s got a little icebox and an alcohol stove, a head, a small galley and just enough elegance to make us feel very rich! We did our first over-night in her this weekend, two nights actually. And it was our first attempt at anchoring. We did pretty good if I do say so myself. (But really, the confession must be made that Marc did most of the work. I kept myself busy trying to steer the steed!)

We skipped over to Portland Island. I’d never been to Portland but Marc explored it for a few years with his scout troup from Victoria. The island is dotted in fruit trees, roses and shell midden beaches. The island was a First Nation’s village for hundreds of years. The beaches are evidence to this, covered in white shells where the First Nations had their many clam feasts.

Hawaiian immigrants who settled on the island in the 1880s also farmed there. Now the island is part of the Gulf Island National Park Reserve.

The first night, we anchored at Royal Cove which is the North end of the island. Our night was pretty rough as the wind came up quite fiercely. So we moved the next night to Princess Bay which is the South of the island. The night was more calm but both anchorages suffered from bouts of BC Ferry wake.

We had a great walk around the island and said hello to the local inhabitants.

They didn’t invite us in for tea or anything but we promised we’d call next time before just dropping in.

On the way back, we had a strong wind and we got to have a good sail back.

We had a great time and it was really nice to get away. Our farm was growing weeds for us while we were gone and the cats were littering voles about the garden as presents upon our return.

Sailing is quite compatible with reading a good book, knitting, napping. I’ll post on my latest project a little later. Also with the chives, thyme and sage blooming, the bees are in the garden, busy as well… bees!

Getting the opportunity to see more of my lovely islands was a pleasure and I was immensely grateful for such a competent calm husband, such beautiful weather and such a happy little boat!

Hope your May Long weekend was great too!

When I begin the weekend, especially in the Spring, I have quite the “To-Do” list. I’m not sure if my husband dreads this list as he knows that there will be only guilty relaxing- as we have things to do Sir!

On my To-Do list this weekend included a few things we got done and a few we didn’t.

I got the buttons sewn on my tiny vest so that it’s ready to ship off for baby. This thing is just about the cutest thing ever!

The top buttons totally don’t match. Somehow I’m hoping that it just doesn’t matter to my friends. These are the friends, after all, who put up their bare Christmas Tree, named it Franken-Pine, and sat on the couch 5 feet away and threw the ornaments at the tree, hoping they’d stick. The tree was incredibly lop-sided and the first time the top star was adjusted, the tree fell on the unsuspecting victim. These are some of my favourite friends!

Another item on the to-do list was seedlings.

This is our potential tomato seedlings. Yup, pots of dirt. Trust me, it will get more exciting. Planting seeds is such an act of faith. It seems like the most unlikely thing to happen. Putting a grain into the dirt, pouring some water over it, and hoping. Somehow, the seeds wants to grow, it knows how to grow, and it grows. I love this small miracle.

After all our hard work, we decided a reward was in order. A picnic. And not just anywhere. Somewhere really special.

Hope your weekend was as productive as mine!

Scissors for me.

A Memo pad for him.

No photo this morning because I was delayed this morning leaving for work as there was a frantic push to get the fire going as the frost was thick this morning. Then there was no wood in the house. Bla bla bla. You know the minor complaints of living with a wood stove as your primary heat.

I’ve been reading these very nomadic blogs, as well as I’ve had some interesting farming opportunities. Tell me what you think.

There are so many different ways to live life and I have two choices and I’m trying to decide how deep I want to sink my teeth in.

Do I want to keep my roots lightly planted so that I can leave at a moments notice? Or do I want to dig deep into farming since the opportunity is presented to me?

The nomadic lifestyle appeals to me because, to quote the Dalai Llama, “The less you have, the less you have to worry about.” This train of thought appeals to me and makes me want sell everything and leave with a stick-tied hankerchief.

On the other hand, an opportunity to have chickens and goats running around. More bees? *sigh* Decisions! And really, as I always say, so much time is wasted on indecision. So we just need to decide.

So what do you think?

There is a flock of sheep on this farm we are caretaking. Somedays we count 4, somedays 6, somedays 11 and yesterday 16. They are geriatric. They have arthritis in their back legs so that they hobble when they run. From far away they look at cotton poofs, like little field clouds with legs. Cumulonimbus Sheep. I have not named them because last year we found a couple of chewed skeletons in the forest. Plus I cannot tell them apart so they would have to go by a communal name.

They go only by “Sheep.” Sheep have always run away from us but because the apples are ripe now, they come closer, looking for crunchy cores, afterthoughts of our nibbling. They are quite funny looking up close. They have rectangle heads, knobbly legs and protruding little lips that explore the apples we toss them. We endear Sheep to ourselves. It helps to look them in the eye so that when we hear them bleeting from our cozy bedroom, we say “Poor sheep” and we can step in their poo without malice.

We have a beautiful flock of deer as well. They are usually regarded as pests on Pender because they have no predators. We had the privilege of watching two sets of fawns learn to jump, lose their spots and still gaze at us wondering, with their ears alert, fluffy and white. We have a beautiful stag with a set of horns, a white muzzle and a white tail which we see more often than anything else. That is, his retreating rear end as he leaves the scene. We just want a good picture Mr Stag. We call the deer with him, his harrem. He is a lucky stag because he has many a looker with him, with big doe eyes, dreamy Mr Stag. Way to go!

Last time we went sailing, last weekend, we saw the retreating backs of black porpoises. It was so exciting. We were sitting in irons (a lull) waiting for us to drift into the wind again and I heard this “Pfhoof” and looked and pointed and jumped a little with a small squeal. (It was only small.) “Porpoises!” They are magnificent creatures.

When we pulled into the dock we met another little family.

Four river otters have taken to nesting in a neighbour’s boat. They are definitely pests, bringing shells into the boat, eating, sleeping and defacating in the boat. But man, are they ever cute when they tussle.

The only other rowdies that need mentioning now are the wiliest rowdies around.

(I think Ramona is posing for this photo)

I love having my own kitty. Better than all the sheep, deer, porpoises and otters.

Oh, and it must be mentioned, Ramona, thought to be a “he” is definitely a “she.” The vet said so!