The Stafford House

 Stafford House

When the book “Recipes and Recollections” was first published in 2011, most people could only dream of visiting its magical setting. As the book gained popularity beyond the local region, it’s likely that many readers had no idea where such places as Glen Tay or DeWitt’s Corners were located. They may have even wondered, “Is it a real place?”

Perched on a gentle hill, a short drive west of Perth, Ontario, the ‘Stafford House’ has become known as one of the area’s most celebrated fictional houses. It is one of the best examples of a building associated with a Canadian author, Arlene Stafford-Wilson, who used the farmhouse as both the inspiration, and the setting, for her popular books.

Built in 1906, the two-storey house, a warm and welcoming residence, was home to the Stafford family for almost 50 years.

Tobias ‘Tib’ Stafford, and his wife Audry (Rutherford) Stafford, members of the Royal Canadian Air Force, met during WWII, at the Number 8 Bombing and Gunnery School, in Lethbridge, Alberta.  They married in 1943, shortly before Tib was shipped overseas, to serve in Bournemouth, England.  Their first child, Timothy, was born in Lethbridge in 1944, and their second, Judy, in 1945.

When the war ended, Tib brought his young family back to his native Eastern Ontario. Born and raised on the 11th concession of Drummond Township, he spent his youth on the homestead of his namesake, native of southern Ireland, and an early pioneer settler to the region.

With the help of a Veteran’s grant, Tib and Audry purchased the ‘Stafford House’, from Tib’s aunt and uncle, Thomas Carberry, and Clara (Richards) Carberry.

George Watson started out in Perth after WW2 ended by working as an electrician’s helper at McVeety’s Electrical.  He then hired on to Ontario Hydro as a lineman when the company was first established in town.

Susan Watson:

“Dad recognized your Dad out in the county coming along the road with a big wagon.  He was pleased to see him, having known him in the Air Force in Lethbridge, where my Dad was a pilot for the Ferry Squadron and your Dad was a frame mechanic and your Mum was a fitness instructor.  My Dad and your Mum were both Westerners so they were a threesome of friends.

The hookup for electricity in the 1940’s was a mere 35 amps.  People needing more had 50 amps but that was rare.  Your house had the 35.  Wiring the house was fairly straightforward except for all those bats in your attic and their guano everywhere up there.

In 1948, when we moved to a new wartime house on South Street, your Dad was our milkman!”

 

Stafford House in 1947

Stafford House – c. 1947

 

Early History of Stafford House

The Land

The southwest half of Lot 14, Concession 3, of Bathurst Township, was a Crown Grant, deeded to John Wilson. These ‘crown grants’ were given to loyal soldiers, who served in the British Army. John Wilson, a gunner, with the Royal Artillery, served for 11 years, and 107 days.  Wilson, his wife, and two children were ‘located’ on the property, on September 20th, 1816. The land was officially deeded to John Wilson, on June 20th, 1820.

The Original Owners of Stafford House

– Isabella Thompson Miller & Andrew Burns Miller

Isabella Thompson Miller (1850-1928) born in North Gower, Ontario, was the daughter of Gilbert Thompson and Agnes Callandar.   She was the fifth child of seven, and remained on the family farm in North Gower, until the age of 28, when she married Andrew Miller.

Andrew Miller (1850-1909), was born in Bathurst Township, the son of William Miller and Margaret Burns.  He was the youngest of nine children, and laboured on his parents farm until the age of 28, when he married Isabella Thompson.

Late in the fall of 1896, Andrew and Isabella Miller both age 46, purchased the land where Stafford House stands today, and they moved into a house, built by one of the previous owners.  It is not known at this time, if this was the original dwelling built by the Wilson family.

Unless a settler was of independent means, the early homes built in Eastern Ontario, in the early nineteenth century, were almost always built with logs, cut while clearing the property, due to cost and convenience.  It is quite likely that the existing house, when the Miller family purchased the farm,was constructed of logs:

“Few habitations can be more rude than those of the first settlers, which are built of logs, and covered with bark or boards…. The most that an emigrant can do the first year, is to
erect his habitation, and cut down the trees on as much ground as will be sufficient to plant ten or twelve bushels of potatoes, and to sow three or four bushels of grain.”

MacGregor, J. – 1832,  British America. 2 vols. Blackwood,  Edinburgh

As settlement progressed in Eastern Ontario, and more land was cleared and put into agricultural production, owners often replaced existing log homes with improved structures of frame, brick, or stone.

The Red Brick House

The Miller family, built the existing red brick home, in 1906, ten years after purchasing the property.

When the house was completed, after much excitement and anticipation, Andrew Miller, his wife, Isabella, their three children moved in: Andrew and Isabella were both 56 years old, and their children John, age 25, Ernest, 20, and Nina, 17 years old.

A Wedding!

The house was just 2 years old, when Isabelle and Andrew Miller’s son Sterling, married his sweetheart Jessie, on 8 Sep 1908.  Jessie Graham, was the daughter of John Graham and Jean Hastie.  They were married in Calvin United Church, a short drive from home, on Cameron Sideroad.  Calvin United Church, a fairly new building at that time, was built in 1896, 10 years before the Miller’s completed construction on the house. 

Calvin United Church December 20140001

Calvin United Church, built in 1896, Bathurst Township (Tay Valley Township)

Sudden Death of Andrew Miller

Sadly, Andrew Miller lived less than three years in their brand new home.

It was said that Andrew, age 59, showed no signs of illness, and had worked, as usual, in the barn all day, with no complaints, according to his obituary, published in ‘The Perth Courier’:

“After partaking of tea in the evening, he read for a while and then lay down on the lounge, and slept for about an hour.  Awakening from this sleep, he went out to the stable to see to the horses, which is a usual thing for some of the men in the family to do.  Returning, he again read until about 11:30, when he retired.  Mrs. Miller, being partly asleep, did not notice anything until his deep breathing caused her to call to him.  Receiving no answer, she gave him a slight shake, and finding him not moving she proceeded to light the lamp, and gave the alarm to her daughter (Nina), who proceeded to her parent’s bedroom and received the terrible shock that the vital spark had fled.”

(an excerpt from the obituary of Andrew Burns Miller, ‘The Perth Courier’, February 26, 1909 p. 1.)

The medical examiner determined that on Feb 21, 1909, Andrew died of a cerebral hemorrhage.

At the time that Andrew Miller passed away, his son, Sterling, and his wife, lived two miles from the homestead, also on the 3rd concession of Bathurst Township, and his son, Ernest, and daughter, Nina, were still living at home.

Two More Weddings

In the years that followed, two more weddings were celebrated in the Miller family.  First, Ernest, then Nina’s weddings:

Ernest Miller’s Wedding – 6 years after the house was built

On Sept 4, 1912, Ernest Miller age 26, married May White, of Almonte, daughter of George White and Elizabeth Hossie.  They had two sons, Andrew ‘Gordon’ Miller, born 1913, and John ‘Jack’ Miller, born 1920.

Nina Miller’s Wedding – 13 years after the house was built

Oct. 22nd 1919, Nina, age 30,  married Bill Stewart, age 29, son of  Nicholas Stewart and Mary Ann Robertson, of Bathurst.  Nina and Bill had two sons – Andrew ‘Andy, in 1920, and Kenneth ‘Ken’, in 1922.

Death of Isabella Miller – 22 years after the house was built

Isabella ‘Bella’ Miller passed away, at home, on October 5th, 1928, at age 78.  The funeral was held at home, officiated by D.B. Gordon, of Calvin United Church, then to Elmwood Cemetery in Perth.  Pallbearers were Norman and John Wallace, Edwin and Harvey Miller, her nephews, George Korry, and James Scott.

After his mother, ‘Bella’, passed away in 1928, Ernest, age 42, was head of the household, and continued to farm the land.  His sons Andrew ‘Gordon’ Miller moved to Sudbury, and worked as a smelter, and younger son, John ‘Jack’ Miller moved to Toronto.

Ernest Miller Drowns

“I recall at a very young age, my mother and I were in the basement of the old house, and I was asking questions about who lived there before us.  She said that she believed it was a Miller family, and that one of their children had drowned.  

Mother and Dad didn’t live in the house until 1946, and so it was likely either one of the neighbours who told her this, or perhaps Dad’s aunt and uncle, who owned the home after the Miller family.” 

                                                    Arlene Stafford-Wilson

 

Tragedy for the Miller Family: Nov 9th, 1931, Ernest Miller, age 45, Accidental Drowning in Green Lake

Ernest Miller drowns 1931

 

 

Nina Miller Stewart

– Just three years after the accidental drowning of her brother, Ernest, on April 6 1934 – Nina died suddenly, of cardiac failure, , at the age of 45.

Of the original Miller family – only the eldest brother, Sterling, survived.  Sterling lived to age 82, and passed away in 1962.  Sterling spent his life farming on the 3rd concession of Bathurst, 2 miles from the family home.  His wife Jessie predeceased him in 1950.  At the time of his death, Sterling was survived by his late sister Nina’s sons, Andrew and Ken Stewart, of the Perth area, and his late brother Ernest’s two son’s, Andrew ‘Gordon’, of Sudbury, and John ‘Jack’ Miller of Toronto.

After so much tragedy in the Miller family, the house was sold, and ownership changed from the ‘Estate of Ernest Miller’ to Thomas Carberry.

1936 New Owners of the house – Thomas and Clara Carberry

Tom Carberry, and Clara Richards Carberry, grew up in the Ferguson Falls area, attended the same schools, and also were members of St. Patrick’s Roman Catholic church.

Tom was the son of Michael Carberry and Bridget Lynch Carberry.  Tom’s grandfather, James Carberry, was a member of the group that came to be known as ‘The Seven Irish Bachelors’.  The seven young men came from Ireland together in 1820, and made a pact that they would work together, and each would help the other become successful. They also agreed that if they failed, they would return to southern Ireland.  They were: John Quinn, Patrick Quinn, Terrence Doyle, James Power, John Cullen, William Scanlon, and James Carberry.

Thomas Carberry was born at Ferguson Falls, and farmed on the family homestead in his early years.  In 1931, he sold the farm, and he moved to California. Tom had two sisters living in California, Esther ‘Essie’ Carberry Diericx in San Francisco, and Bridget Carberry Zanetti, living in Mountain View, California.

During his years in Mountain View, Tom purchased a fruit farm and operated the business for several years before returning to Canada.

When he returned to Lanark County, in 1936, he purchased the farm on the third concession of Bathurst Township, from the estate of the late Ernest Miller.

Clara Richards, Tom’s wife, was the daughter of Thomas Richards, and Catherine McKittrick. Thomas Richards, farmer, was also a superintendent of schools for the Township of Drummond.  Catherine McKittrick, wife and mother, was said to have skin so fair that she resembled a porcelain doll.

Thomas Carberry and his wife, Clara Richards Carberry lived in the red brick home, and took great care of the surrounding property.  It was during the time they  lived there that Tom’s knowledge of cultivating fruit trees led to the planting and tending of an apple orchard behind the house.  Although the climate was not as favourable as in California, Tom and Clara tended their trees with care, and each fall had a nice crop of McIntosh apples, perfect for pies, applesauce, and snacks.

Tom and Clara remained in the house for ten years.

When their nephew, Tobias ‘Tib’ Stafford, returned from the war, with his wife, Audry, and two young children, Tim, and Judy, Tom offered to sell them the home and land.

 

 

This traditional, rural home would become the backdrop for many well-loved books: “Lanark County Kid”, “Lanark County Chronicle”, “Lanark County Calendar” and “Recipes and Recollections” “Lanark County Classics” “Lanark County Connections”, and “Lanark County Calling: All Roads Lead Home.

Judy Tim Jackie Roger at the fence

Along the fence, at the west side of the property, 1958 – l to r – Judy Stafford, Tim Stafford, Jackie Stafford, and Roger Stafford

 

Jackie Ronnie Judy Arlene

l to rt. at the bottom – Arlene Stafford, Jackie Stafford, Ronnie Waterhouse (our cousin) Judy Stafford – this shows the location of the old barn. When the barn was torn down in 1961 it was replaced with the white wooden garage, built by Tib and his sons. Still standing today.

Audry in front of the house

Audry (Rutherford) Stafford, standing on the sidewalk, facing west

Judy and Arlene at the front steps

This view shows Judy (Stafford) Ryan (left) and Arlene Stafford-Wilson (rt), along the sidewalk. This was the entrance used the most by the Stafford family.  The area between the sidewalk and the brick wall was used as a flower bed; with brightly coloured tulips in the spring, and then with bright annuals in the summer, like marigolds and petunias.

 

Staffords Jackie Tim Roger Judy Arlene

The Stafford children standing on the sidewalk, facing west, in 1962: l to r – Jackie Stafford, Tim Stafford, Judy Stafford, Arlene Stafford, front: Roger Stafford

Judy near the spruce tree

Judy (Stafford) Ryan, 1964, standing near the steps, on the west side of the house. The spruce tree to her right is mentioned often in the stories leading up to Christmastime. As this tree grew larger over the years, Tobias ‘Tib’ Stafford strung brightly coloured lights on the branches. He used small aluminum pie plates behind each light, to act as reflectors, and the modest display could be seen from the Third Line.

The Stafford House, is valued both for its good aesthetic, and functional architecture. Its farmhouse design, places it firmly in Canadian vernacular building traditions of the earliest part of the 20th century. It is of an appealing, sturdy type, very common to many areas of eastern Canada. The interior of the house boasts a classic, traditional design, featuring good craftsmanship, and durable materials.

old back porch

Arlene Stafford, and Roger Stafford, washing his beloved dog, Mike
(the original back porch, accessed through the kitchen on the inside)

new back porch

Arlene Stafford with Jackie Stafford – Building materials can be seen on the lawn as the new back porch had just been completed.   Inside access was through the kitchen.  There were outside steps up to the landing. The clothesline, where Mother stood to hang clothing and bedding, attached to the new back porch, can also be seen in the photo.

Judy at the front door

This photo of Judy (Stafford) Ryan, and the Stafford family pet, Mike,  shows how the entrance appeared in the early 1960s. This was the door commonly used by the family, not the more formal entrance at the center of the front of the house.  The outer door was replaced in the early 1970s with an aluminum-framed screen door.

new garage

 

Many aspects of the interior plan, finishes, and details, have been lovingly preserved, and its overall scale and materials, are enhanced by its setting in park-like grounds, surrounded by stately maple trees.

The author described the family home: “a big beautiful red brick house, smothered in tall maples in the front, and apple orchards at the back, was the magical home of my childhood”

Judy Jackie and Arlene apple orchards

1964 – Judy Stafford, Jackie Stafford, front – Arlene Stafford – to the rear Tobias ‘Tib’ Stafford, in front of the apple orchard- the orchard was located behind the house.

Judy in the apple orchard

Judy Stafford in the apple orchard

 

Arlene in the apple orchard

Arlene Stafford gathers apple blossoms, in the easterly section of the apple orchard, behind the Stafford House – 1964

Judy and Arlene in the orchard

Arlene Stafford-Wilson (l) and Judy (Stafford) Ryan, in the west section of the apple orchard, behind the Stafford house, 1964.

 

1967 Christmas

 

the old house

The Stafford House, as it appeared from 1946-1992, while the Stafford family lived there.

Many are charmed by the beauty of the surrounding countryside, and the large and romantic woodland which drifts gently down the hillside, towards the railroad tracks, and the beloved duck pond, mentioned many times in Stafford-Wilson’s books.

tracks back the side road

Nearby, visitors can take a short walk, or a drive down the side road, and see the little creek where the Stafford children caught tadpoles in the spring.

creek-behind-the-house0001

In the cooler weather, visitors may walk along the fields, where the young Staffords carefully chose their Christmas tree each year in December.

Stafford Christmas tree

A Stafford family Christmas tree – fresh-cut from the woods behind the house. Standing at the rear – Judy Stafford, center, mother – Audry Stafford, l to r Jackie Stafford, Roger Stafford and Tim Stafford.   The television was placed along the front wall of the house. To the left of where the television was location, there was a ‘hall’ door, leading to the central outside door of the house, and to the vestibule and central staircase.  The chesterfield, which was a deep burgundy colour, was along the western wall.  The western wall ran parallel to the sidewalk.

View the rolling farmlands, stunning landscapes, and nearby tiny villages of Glen Tay, and DeWitts Corners. Take a short drive up Cameron Side Road, and you will see the charming red brick Calvin Church where the Stafford family attended, another landmark which is mentioned many times in Stafford-Wilson’s books.

Calvin United Church brightened

In 2014, for the first time, the Stafford House was open to the public, as part of the Heritage Perth Christmas House Tour. Special exhibits included photos from the private collections of the Stafford family showing the exterior and interior of the house as it was, when they lived there from 1946 – 1992. Included in the displays were some of the author’s Mother’s original hand-written recipes preserved, previously published in ‘Recipes and Recollections: Treats and Tales from our Mother’s Kitchen”.

Organized by the Perth and District Canadian Federation of University Women, the Heritage Perth Christmas House Tour, featured 8 local homes including the Stafford House, transformed for the holiday season by gifted local decorators.

Christmas House Tour

As the Stafford House changed ownership over the years, sold to the Brady family, then sold by the Brady family to the Parker family, renovations have taken place, including the addition of a front porch, and many modifications to the interior, to modernize the home.

Details of John Wilson’s Crown Grant – “Transactions of Land Grants Made at the Military Depot, Perth, Lanark County 1816 – 1819″, taken from National Archives of Canada, MG9, D8-27, Vol. 1, Microfilm Reel #C 4651

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A Change of Seasons

geese

“Where are the birds going?”, I asked, squinting up at the bright September sky, from my vantage point in the vegetable garden. I sat cross-legged between two rows of tomato plants, the earth still warm from the late summer sun, shielding my eyes with my hand, straining to see the last few stragglers as they flew over Korry’s barn, and out of sight. It was the second flock I’d noticed that day, another noisy procession, in a big ‘v’ shape, flying from behind the house, over our yard, and across the Third Line.

“They’re heading south.” Mother responded, without looking up. She was busy filling her plastic mixing bowl with tomatoes; picking the softest, reddest ones, and leaving the hard, little, green ones on the vines. She was on a mission these past few days to harvest as much as we could from the garden, and preserve it all in glass mason jars, before the frost hit.

hands holding tomatoes

“Why are they going south?”, I questioned. I was always asking questions, and wondered to myself what it was like to be grown up and have all the answers, and to understand how everything worked in the world.

Mother stopped for a moment and set her bowl on the ground, realizing that I wasn’t going to be satisfied with a short answer. She went on to explain that when the snow came and covered the ground, that the birds wouldn’t be able to find any food, so they had to fly south where it was sunny and warm all the time.

Sunny and warm all the time? With no snow? Why doesn’t everyone go there?

I had so many questions that I didn’t even know where to begin. While I was busy thinking my way through this new information, Mother had picked up her bowl and moved to the next row.

I got up, dusted the dirt from my clothes and ran into the house. If the birds were going south today, then so would I. I ran up the back stairs where we kept the suitcases. I picked up a small one that would be easy for me to carry and lugged it up the main stairs to my bedroom. I grabbed some tee shirts and shorts out of my drawer and placed them in the suitcase.

old suitcase 1

 

What else should I pack? I would need some food for the trip. I ran downstairs and into the pantry and took a cookie tin off of the shelf. I grabbed a brown paper bag out of the drawer and placed four chocolate chip cookies inside. I took one of the new mason jars from the shelf in the pantry, filled it with milk, twisted the lid on tightly and put it into my suitcase. I was ready to go south.

cookies and milk

I carried my little brown suitcase out to the garden, over to where Mother was working, and announced that I would be going south with the birds. I suppose that after having raised four children before me, she’d heard it all, and she merely nodded, smiled and kept on working.

The two flocks of geese that I’d seen that day seemed to be coming from the side road behind the house, so I decided that I’d head back there, find a flock that was ready to leave and join them. The fact that I didn’t know how to fly hadn’t really registered in my five-year-old mind at that point and I hurried down the lane, turned left and headed down the dirt road, toward the Fourth Line.

country road

I passed the little creek where I’d watched the tadpoles in the spring. I set my suitcase down and peered past the opening of the culvert. There was hardly any water passing through at all; not like the wide stream that rushed through just a few months before. There was only a narrow trickle running under the dirt road and out the other side of the big metal pipe into the lowlands.

 

culvert

 

No wonder the birds were leaving. The water was drying up, the wild flowers were turning to seed and the sun was sliding down behind Mitchell’s barn a little earlier each evening.

I continued to walk until I reached the railroad tracks. I hadn’t seen one flock of geese since I left home. I climbed the grassy hill beside the tracks, dragging my suitcase until I reached the top and sat down, leaning against the big maple tree, shaded from the sun. I decided to eat the lunch that I’d packed, and I unzipped my suitcase, and pulled out my bag of cookies, and jar of milk. I finished the cookies, drank the milk, and put the containers back in my case.

little girl with suicase

I leaned against the tree and waited. I saw a few birds darting in and out of the trees nearby, a couple of squirrels, and even a curious chipmunk that sat up on his hind legs staring at me for a few seconds before scampering away. I didn’t see any geese; not one goose, let alone a flock of geese. Maybe I was too late. Maybe they’d already left. Maybe that was the last flock going south that we saw from the garden today. I sat there and waited…and waited…and waited.

I heard a voice in the distance calling, “Co-boss! Co-boss!”. It was a familiar sound that I heard each evening around seven o’clock when our neighbour Chris Perkins, on the next farm, gathered his heard from the pasture, and brought them back to the barn for milking.

cattle at sunset

 

The sun was sinking lower in the sky, and I knew it would be dark soon. I didn’t want to be outside all night by myself so I picked up my little brown suitcase and climbed down the hill, back up the side road, up the lane, and into our yard, just as the last sliver of red sun was disappearing below the horizon.

country sunset

I opened the old wooden door that led into the kitchen, and set my suitcase down on the rubber mat. Mother heard me come in and called from the living room, “Are you hungry? I kept your supper warm in the oven.” I felt defeated. I didn’t want to tell anyone that I had failed to meet up with a flock of geese and join them on their trip south. The birds had all left for the season, and I was stuck here with the cold and snow. They would have sunny days and warm weather, and I would be walking on chilly floors in the drafty old house, too cold to play outside.

Looking back on that day, so many years ago, I realize that I was wrong about a couple of things. I realize now that I was wrong to think that I could simply pack a suitcase, and join with a group of birds in their southern migration. The second thing was thinking that it was better to be grown up and understand how the world works.

Yes, we grow older and ‘wiser’, but in doing so we lose much of our innocence. We stop believing that anything is possible, and replace our enthusiasm with all of the reasons why we can’t do something.

At this time of year, when the days grow shorter, and the geese fill the skies overhead with their familiar chorus, I like to remember a little girl who packed her bag, and left the security of home, ready to join the flock on their journey. That little girl didn’t tell herself that she couldn’t fly, or that the birds might not want her to come along. She made up her mind, grabbed her bag, and headed back the side road.

Geese flying

Remembering that day, makes me wonder what each of us could accomplish if we stopped listening to the grown-up voice telling us all the reasons why we can’t do something.

What if, even once in a while, we listened to the voice of the child inside of us telling us that we can?’

 

Flying Geese by Stephen Mackey

 

 

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Illustration:  “Flying Geese” by Stephen Mackey

 

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Bustling With Bats – Summer Nights in the Country

Image

As the fiery red July sun sank low on the horizon, finally disappearing behind Mitchell’s barn, the first bats of the summer evening swooped low, along the maple trees in our yard.  Their small, dark, shadowy figures glided effortlessly, along the lowest branches, and dotted the skies over the clothesline, at the side of the old house.

clothesline

The little brown bats returned to our yard every spring, and the mothers produced just one baby each year, around the middle of June.  By the end of July, the babies took their first flights, as they were weaned off of their mother, and began to eat insects.

bats baby

Although some people were afraid that the bats would fly into their hair, they made a high frequency sound that bounced back, and prevented them from colliding with anything – other than the mosquitoes they feasted on nightly.

Because they were nocturnal creatures, we never saw them in the daytime, as they hung upside down, under the eaves of the roof, or sought shelter in the attic, above the kitchen.  Around sunset each summer evening, they begin to soar around the yard, swooping and gliding, along the branches, seeking out the bloated mosquitoes that dined on us, as we sat outside in the evening.

bats tree

Mother and Dad didn’t mind sharing our yard with the bats. Our parents sat on their lawn chairs, enjoying a plate of homemade oatmeal cookies; Dad with a coffee in hand, and Mother with her lemonade.

lawn chairs

The summer days were hot, often humid, and the only form of air conditioning in the old house was to open a window, and hope for the best.  Sitting outside under the big maple trees in the evening was a nice way to cool down, and reflect on the events of the day.  We’d glance down the lane, watch the cars going by on the Third Line, and one at a time, turn on their headlights for the night.

country road night

The crickets and bullfrogs were in full chorus by then, as more and more bats appeared, and the sky became a dark cloak, shrouding their movements in secrecy.  Small flashes of light moved along the front garden, as the fireflies began their nightly parade, competing with the bats for our attention.

fireflies

As the summer season unfolded, there would be many nights like this.  We’d sit outside to cool down, after a long hot day, and we became the audience for the sunset performance of the small brown bats, and their aerial show.

Mother and Dad would eventually rise from their lawn chairs, and fold them up for the evening; carrying their empty cups, and the scattered crumbs remaining on the cookie plate.

cookie crumbs

The bats would continue their hunt for food long after we’d gone into the old house, gliding and darting in the yard, as we slumbered peacefully through the warm summer night.

sleeping child

 

 

………………….

 

(an excerpt from ‘Lanark County Calendar: Four Seasons on the Third Line, ISBN 978-0-9877026-30)

LC Calendar

 

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