WINDING UP THE YEAR IN PRINCE EDWARD COUNTY

Well dear readers, it seems we are approaching the end of the year, bringing with it to our homes the wonderful days of the Christmas Festival.  I expect many of you have decorated your houses with swags of greenery, red bows and gold stars, all very traditional.

 The stores, of course, barely let Halloween pass, and they were stocking the shelves, with an amazing variety of goodies, both edible and decorative.

I love Christmas.  As a child of the 40's and 50's, which was a time of shortages, rationing and 'make do and mend', my mum and dad probably spent several weeks acquiring or making goodies for our stockings, ( actually dad's woollen sock,), or to put in the pillowcases as our main presents. Our socks were at the end of the bed, and our pillowcases for when we took up positions at the end of mum and dad's big bed.

Dad's woolly socks had a second good use, that of being smeared with Vick, and wrapped around our throats for calming a cough! But as a Christmas Stocking, the sock was filled with a clementine in the toe, small toys, a little book and maybe chocolate money.

After that opening, dad had arrive with morning tea, and we dashed into their bedroom, into their bed, and opened up our pillowcases! There was always an annual, of our favourite characters, mine was probably The Famous Five! A game or jigsaw, clothes, something smelly, more sweeties; a satisfying pile of 'stuff!'

One year a dolls house was passed on to me, my sister had outgrown its fascination.  It might have been made by Italian prisoners of war, from camps near where we lived  during the war.  Inside the rooms, the wooden walls had print on them; it was made from packing cases, and very well too.

After the war, two children in tow, mum and dad went to live with grandpa and grandma, in their fairly large house on the northern outskirts of London. Mum and grandma shared the preparation of the festive feast.  I still cut my brussels sprouts as my mum did; I don’t chase the flaming, escapee from the oven - turkey, flapping at it with a tea towel though, as grandma did one year!

So how did the first settlers in Canada celebrate? They will have brought their own customs with them, from Europe maybe, or the Mormons and Amish will have added to the mix. Supplies would have been ordered months before the  Christmas period, to arrive before the snow blocked roads, and made delivery difficult.

The log cabins were decorated with swags of greenery, red berries and sumac buds. The Christmas Tree didn’t arrive in Canada, until Queen Victoria had married her dearest  Albert, a German prince, who introduced us to the Christmas Tree. The tree as decoration came up from America, with the Pennsylvania Dutch, who moved north in the mid 1800's. Decorated with swags of dried cranberries, and - popcorn! introduced to the settlers by the Native Indians!  They also showed us how to make syrup from the Maple trees, but more of that  in February time!

Gifts were made. Mama, when she had any spare moments from the neverending tasks of daily life, would have knitted - mittens, scarves, hoods, socks. Papa could whittle in the last hours of the day, before the fire, to make bows and arrows, a sledge (see modern example below), tiny toys. Grandma probably contributed lengths of cloth, woven as she sat, spinning, before the massive fireplace.

A modern toboggan for Christmas, but still a grandpa's labour of love

The women and girls would have endless daily tasks, but they always managed to quilt. An ancient craft actually, Crusaders wore a layered. Quilted 'tabard' under their armour - extra layers for extra protection. In summer months, the women  gathered together to sew, called a 'quilting bee'  but in the winter season, family members gathered around the fire to quilt together.

 

Quilts were essential for warmth, on the beds and hung on the walls over the window openings, no glass yet, and simply to relieve the 'cabin fever'.  A very old, popular pattern is 'Log Cabin'.  Made of strips, the central block, an inch square, is always red, to represent the heart, or the hearth, of the home.

My painting of a log cabin quilt design

 Coming back to modern times, is it so very different?  Greenery, celebratory feasts, visits to church.  Our churches here have messages on outside signboards ' Jesus is the Reason for the Season'

If it is a normal Canadian winter, we shall have snow, lots of snow.

A daily battle, we dress in layers, carry emergency packs in our vehicles in case we are trapped by snow, plan visits to friends and grocery stores according to the weather reports. Strangely, last winter, it was the season of no snow. This winter was shaping up the same way but we are now promised a huge dump!,

Now, the County is bedded down for the winter. 

  

The vine stock in the ground is heaped over with soil, protecting the roots . Hay bales are left along the rows, ready to light and leave to smoulder, providing subtle warmth if the temperature dips harmfully low.  But some grapes are left on the vine, to deliberately freeze, eventually harvested to become Ice Wine, a thick, syrupy concoction.

 Fields are ploughed, some already sown with winter wheat. Hopefully snow will cover the tender seedlings, until melting time in spring.  Gardens are cleared, perennials cut down, climbing roses buried. It is always a gamble what will reappear next spring. If not the cold, critters make a feast of bulbs and rhizomes. Chipmunks are very partial to red tulips!

Snow tyres fitted, lots of chocolate in the emergency pack, flashlight and blanket, more chocolate, candles and matches, kitty litter to throw under the slipping grip of the tyres on ice.

Our homes are decorated - garlands and bows, nativity figures on the lawn, The Grinch hiding in the shrubbery!  So we await the jingle bells in the sky on Christmas Eve.  And remember the reason for the season.  Merry Christmas!!

Cutting your own tree is a family event -

Someof our beautiful local (BLOOMFIELD) Victorian houses in the snow.

Here's the cat who didn't get the Christmas bird he wanted!

Ang here's the perfect winter holiday present - pretty and practical!

 

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THE SANTA CLAUS HAT

 For many of us here in Corfu, this may not be the jolliest Christmas ever, but as long as you can see at least one person wearing a Santa Claus hat, all is not lost!

I started writing this long overdue blog on 12^th December, the name day of Corfu’s Patron Saint, St Spyridon. For many people this has always been considered the start of the winter holiday season which continues until 6^th January and Epiphany followed by 7^th January and the Feast of St John. In Corfu, you are unlikely to see much in the way of festive decorations or events before this day, and most of the preparations – baking and buying presents  and decorating a tree or, traditional in Greece, a small boat,  takes place in the last few days before Christmas. Not for us the TV and retail  campaigns that start in October. Our winter holiday season is not all about Christmas either; it is only in comparatively recent years that much has been made of  it, as Christmas has always been considered as an entirely religious festival. Merrymaking and present-giving traditionally took place at New Year, on the Feast of St Basil (Vassilis). In fact, Greek children are promised that Agios Vassilis will bring their presents. If you look at a picture of that Saint you will not, however, see a remarkable resemblance to the accepted idea of what Father Christmas looks like.

But St Nicholas, whose feast day is on 6^th December, does resemble the rosy-cheeked patriarch we associate with this season, and Santa Claus is of course derived from his name. Present-giving and other seasonal activities are celebrated in some other countries on his name-day.

Confusing isn’t it?

St Spyridon’s Day is celebrated by well over half the population of Corfu – those who have been named after him, Spyridon (Spyros) or Spyridoula.

This is not one of the four great occasions celebrating the miracles of the Saint. He rested quietly in his massive silver sarcophagus on this year’s dark cold and gloomy day, undisturbed by brass bands and crowds, not required to be on duty, when he would be propped up uncomfortably in his gilded casket, supported on the muscular shoulders of Greek sailors as they march slowly around the Old Town. 

Our Saint is believed to walk around the town every night in search of those in need of his help or healing powers and as a result his slippers wear out and must be replaced annually. The worn-out slippers are cut into tiny fragments and encased in triangles of fabric which are worn, or pinned to pillows in the case of babies or the sick, as a phylacto or talisman. I think one of the few things I managed to do to endear myself to a mother-in-law wary of a foreign bride was to queue for hours to obtain a pie ce of the Saint’s slipper for her.

 Winter’s really here – the winter that so many of our summer visitors cannot imagine us having. But on looking through my photos for 2012 I see that in February, on Clean Monday, there was still a thick layer of snow on the mountains of Albania and Epirus, just across the channel from Corfu. And now, ten days before Christmas, there is again that thick, unbroken diadem of snow upon the craggy brows of the mountains. The kids have got their padded jackets on, their woolly hats and scarves, boots and gloves too - seems so strange after the warm weather lasting so long - like moving to another, colder country suddenly!

The Russians call these 'ear-hats'!

Time to practice saying Chronia Polla as the name-days begin to follow hard on the heels of each other – Nicholas, Anna, Spyros, Stratis. Lefteris, Dionysios, Tassos, Christos, Stefanos, Vassilis and all the others that come between. You may know the old saying - 'shout Spiro in a Corfu street or restaurant and nine out of ten men will turn around'!

I don’t know if people do it as much as they used to, but all day long people used to trek from one house to another to bestow good wishes on friends and family named after the Saint, with cakes and bottles of booze, everyone dressed in their best. For once, you would see men in suits and ties, worry beads clicking furiously as they sat uncomfortably on furniture from which the plastic covering had been temporarily removed. (Remember ‘My Big Fat Greek Wedding’?) Women inevitably wore multiple ropes of gold chains that made me feel so inferior that I went and bought a few metres of gilt chain in a haberdashery store and wore that defiantly around my neck.

This year, our own kids went to town as usual with their parents for the annual treat of ‘loukoumades’  which are traditionally sold on 12^th December  from little stalls in the streets - like small round doughnuts, made on the spot , served piping hot drenched in sugar, cinnamon and honey! Not sure about the 'Health & Safety' aspects of the whole thing but hey! You need a few germs to build up immunity! 

  The word loukoumi means sweet and is the name by which Turkish Delight is known in Greece. You will also often see Greeks tasting a dish, usually roast meat, and kissing the ends of their fingers with a smile of approval, pronouncing it ‘loukoumi’ as a token of approval.

It’s not only the storms that we have to weather this year -  austerity is biting this Christmas, our priority has to be keeping warm. Some of us cannot afford the high price of heating oil and we are threatened with huge increases in the cost of electricity. Many of us are lucky enough to have a fireplace in our home and so far Corfu remains well-supplied with wood, though cutting it is strictly controlled. 

This year, Christmas will be a simple affair for the majority – something I cannot regret for I feel that the pleasures of Christmas reside in good home-cooked food, family and friends, and a few presents for the children – not necessarily expensive or elaborate.

When I was very little, life in England was hard for most families. Still reeling from the effects of war, Britain celebrated Christmas quietly and frugally. There were hardly any toys in the shops, sweets and food in general were rationed. My sister was still a baby then but I hoped Santa would remember I needed new dolls’ clothes and a jigsaw and some furniture for the old dolls’ house. It was our tradition to hang a pillow case on the end of the bed and socks on the mantelpiece, in the hope that Santa would fill them,

Thanks to kindly neighbours whose children were grown up and who had hoarded their prewar toys, thanks to my uncle who was a skilled and imaginative carpenter, thanks to my mum and grandma who were wizards with fabric and scissors, and thanks to my dad who had such big feet that his socks made a bottomless receptacle for Christmas sweeties, small toys and an orange -  still a rare treat in those first post-war days -thanks to all their efforts Christmas became then the magical time that it has never ceased to be for me.

My brother-in-law continues the tradition of the homemade gift – in this case a whizzy toboggan ready for the Canadian winter!

 And there is always the auntie who knits you something warm and lovely!

I must say that if you visited a cake shop on St Spyridon’s Day, or on any of the other namedays, you would not believe there is any crisis in Greece!

Boxes filled with oh-so-sweet confections were leaving every zacharoplasteio in rapid succession. Greeks share the Middle Eastern love of sweets – and are never satisfied with just ‘sweet’ – cakes and pastries are additionally drenched with sweet syrups, decorated with cream and sugar until  you would think there is nothing left to decorate any further and then they are coated with chocolate icing!  No wonder the dentists here are so good!

I know that there are people here in Corfu this year who do not have even a couple of spare euros with which to celebrate Christmas or any other winter holiday. They are not forgotten and those who can are helping the others with gifts of food and clothing and other essentials.

And in the town of Preveza, the Municipality is adding one euro to the rates and water bills to be used to feed the stray cats and dogs.

The Christmas Spirit endures.

I leave you with a photo of my ‘economy tree’ – here in Corfu the orange trees are now bright with their new crop – a Christmas tree in every garden! This one even has its own fairy.

 Just an afterthought- Santa Claus is said to reside at the North Pole, but in fact there is a small mountain village in Corfu that is called ‘Santa’ - his summer retreat do you think?

 

In loving memory of Loula who will be much missed this Christmas.

COUNTYKATE'S THOUGHTS ON NOVEMBER.

So the summer is well and truly over, dinghies become large bird baths, and the cottages are closed up and become a little overgrown, with no-one to tend the gardens!

The County is a Cornucopia of Curious Sights and legends; there is probably a Cheshire Cat in the County Humane Society, awaiting adoption to his 'forever home'.

An apology to grammar purists, with my attempt at alliteration, as above. 

I'll try in this blog to acquaint you with curious facts about Prince Edward County in Ontario, and accompany them with photographs by way of explanation.

When school starts in early September, life assumes a different pace. For the bus drivers, it means going back to  rising from bed at ungodly hours of the morning, checking the bus for faults, and scaring the dawn chorus into silence.

For the general public driving around, it means watching for those flashing red lights atop the school bus, meaning you must stop for students getting on or off, or be fined.

My first pickup would be at 7a.m., a half hour drive from home.  Having waved my way there, exchanging morning greetings with farmers, crossing guards, police and others, I often arrived just before the girls were ready to be picked up. I’d make my arrival known, while they collected backpacks, breakfast and kissed the dogs goodbye.

 Most students can wait in their homes, watching for the bus to appear. Other kids, who live on farms perhaps, can’t wait inside their homes, they would have too far to run down the driveway. So these guys have shelters erected near the roadway by their dads. Design is personal, I show two examples below.  We call them Sentry Boxes! And -yes- the little house with the porch is a luxury version of the school bus shelter!

There is a mixed bag of house design here too.  We have three Octagonal houses on the County.  This was a design from 1850, popular here and in the States.  Apparently the  oddly shaped rooms gave more accommodation, and the porch ran all the way around the lower level.

Picton has a magnificent choice of houses, some mansions, built by businessmen such as canning factory owners, shipping magnates and ship builders, and the wealthy from Toronto and the States. Some really huge houses were still referred to as summer cottages!

The mansions were decorated in wonderful styles, towers, wraparound porches, curlicues and elaborate fretwork called ‘gingerbread’.  Porches were generously sized, decorated in summer with wicker furniture and flower planters, an extension of the living rooms. Many of these imposing houses still exist, some of them now hotels,

Smaller homes boast their porches too, the roof an extension of the roof line over a wooden deck; this design is supposed to come from the slaves’ cabins in the Southern States, developed for shade and for sleeping. Smaller houses, of course, are candidates for removal to a different site! People often buy an older house and get it transported to a site of their choice.

There was even a castle in Picton, built at the head of Picton Harbour in 1896. Castle Villeneuve was described as one of Ontario’s finest residences and was built in Victorian Gothic style; it had towers, turrets. a round ballroom, and a dozen bedrooms. Sadly it was destroyed by a propane explosion in 1986.

I have mentioned The Palace of the Moon in earlier blogs; this was a very popular dancehall in the 1930's and onward; it literally was swallowed up by the drifting sands of the Sandbanks.

Summer Dance Pavilions were very popular from the 1900's, between the two World Wars, and on into the 1960's!  Hundreds of young people descended on the County, in the new fangled motor cars, and danced to resident big bands. All gone now – so many of them were swallowed up by the ever-shifting sand dunes that border the lake.

Other enormous structures have been erected here, for example the Orphans’ Home on Foresters Island, in the northeast corner of the County, which was built in 1900 . It was a huge, Victorian-style, four-storey building with five towers.  Orphan children were chosen to live here, to be educated.

Sadly, by 1905, the society responsible had gone bankrupt. The premises were sold to local residents, who took many of the furnishings for their own homes!

We have our own Crystal Palace too, in the Picton Fairgrounds. Built in 1887, it is still used for weddings and other celebrations.

On the County, visible signs of our heritage and history are far ‘younger’ that they would be in Europe for example, but there is no lack of curious sights, each with its own story. Odd sights include the rather small dark blue aircraft,

poised to take flight, on the roof of a local factory.

Or the local drive-in cinema. 

 Not to mention a ‘house martin cote’ – doves not welcome! (These were built in gardens as mosquito deterrents, the little house martins having a large appetite for mozzies, caught on the wing at dusk.)

We have been visited by all religions, we have about six branches of the W.I., we did have a branch of the Ku Klux Klan, gone now, composed mostly of ladies!

This ‘church’ was built by Norwegians and is now a residence.

There is still the site of Camp Picton, the airfield atop McCauley Mountain. Partly derelict, partly still used for boat storage, films have been made here, including a version of Colditz.

Mysterious caves and caverns are common enough everywhere, and I was intrigued when a couple of local fishermen hinted that there was such a cave, visible only from the sea, at Long Point. They implied that it was a creepy place inhabited by bats. I tried to follow up te clues, but never found it myself. Other informants said it was a submarine base, which sounded a bit of a tall story and reminded me of the caves in the Greek islands that have the same reputation. In the end it turned out to be the work of the wealthy American who owned the property abovethe shore line and had blasted out the shale to make a boat house for his many different boats, from motor cruiser and yacht to canoes.

The tower of the church at Picton leans enough for us to be able to claim that we have our own Leaning Tower of Pi..cton, but it has been examined and declared safe so we are unlikely to be seeing it as a tourist attraction.

Many pioneer relics are to be found here, in the form of the wooden rail fences, still bordering fields today, others buried in the treelines or hedgerows. Just to remind you, all this land was farmed once, a hundred or more years ago. Trees were cut down in their hundreds, to make the fences as well as homesteads.  But what to do with the massive roots, left after cutting away firewood and fence rails?

 Why, make an animal-proof fence with them!

 There is a new type of 'edifice' these days; wind turbines and banks of solar panels in the fields. In bright summer sun, their reflecting metal panels blind the motorist.  There is talk of wind farms, a phrase which conjures up quite the wrong image!

We have several methods of heating our homes. We have geothermal heating, an underground piping system.

For those with woodstoves, the woodpiles assume grand shapes, tucked against barn walls, covered if in the open. Spiders are grateful for these snuggly winter homes, chipmunks and squirrels too.

Another form of heating is by using an outdoor stove, connected to the house with piping, and providing heat and hot water. We call them Puffing Billy.  We saw them first on a road trip through Virginia, taking the rural route through the beautiful Adirondacks Mountains.  Almost every home, hidden away in the trees, boasted this Puffing Billy contraption, and we convinced ourselves that they were whisky stills, illegal of course, but blatantly smoking away.

 We were impressed by the number of stills and the quantity of moonshine being made. Maybe the police turned a blind eye to the situation, in return for their share, we assumed.

We realised later , of course, that these were outdoor stoves!

So there are the curious facts and features of the County.  The next 'sight' to see, will be the putting up of Christmas Lights, decoration of shop fronts, and the stacking of hundreds of Christmas trees outside the supermarkets!

So the Xmas preparations begin, like making the cake, to be 'fed' every few days with brandy. 

 We have a friend who is a member of the local Volunteer Fire Brigade, who will stand guard over the turkey on the day – ‘just in case’. 

Afterwards, it will be back to life as usual for me, sitting quietly in front of the log fire, to quilt, read and snooze.

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