Happy Birthday, Baby!

This is a sort of reverse ag.gray.gate post wherein I created a cake pop collage for the blog, forgot to post it here, and this past week posted it to Pinterest instead! Sacrilege, I know. What can I say? Pinterest has swept me away...for the moment at least!

For Jack's birthday we made Ice Cream Cake Pops as per his request. They turned out fantastic and were really simple. The poppets were thrilled!

A little about the pops...
-The pics don't show us mixing the buttercream icing into the crumbled cake. The texture should be that of raw cookie dough. Roll and chill.
-Having access to american style Almond candy bark makes all the difference in the world. Anything else will ruin your day. Trust me.
-Melt the bark in a double boiler. Dip cones and place on chilled balls. Chill again before final coating.
-I was lucky enough to find mini cones with flat bottoms, which meant I didn't have to fashion or find some sort of mini ice cream cone holder.
-Sophie Wong took the gorgeous inset photo. Mad skillz, that woman.

Ta da. Birthday magic.

A Poultry Life…

My family and I are part of a growing trend. We have backyard chickens. It all started as a good idea last spring as we took part in Rossland’s 2^nd annual ‘Chicken Crawl’. At every house along the Walk chicken owners professed how easy and inexpensive constructing coops and runs with found goods could be. They all built their structures in a weekend. The Poppets really dug the hens and I was surprised just how much Mike seemed to like the idea as well.

Then a girlfriend called with actual chicks to give and suddenly there was a very real deadline looming in front of us. We began to gather ‘inexpensive found material’. Insert reality check #1 here. Not cheap. Even with a free metal roof and free siding.

We had ourselves a good old-fashioned Amish style barn building. Check #2 - it took more way more than a weekend to finish. Family came in from Ontario one week. We sent them out to the yard and didn’t let them in till the ground was cleared, foundation level, run framed in and a roof went up. Jack’s God Parents visited the next week and together we stained, sided, and put up the hardware cloth. It really looked like a real chicken coop now! In fact so much so, that we had never seen a raccoon in our yard before and that night two came to inspect the coop that now resembled a coop! Smart little buggars. The bandits found it empty though as chicks were still inside our house. Whew!

Then there was Velma. Who quickly decided, despite her Terrier-ness, she was the mamma. Thank goodness, I thought for sure she was going to eat the little yellow fluff balls.

Last, but not least, Mike’s dad dropped by and gave the coop a once over…and a few more cross supports. Then it was time for the chick–e–boos to move on in!

They love their coop! All it needs is a chandelier  :)

THAT Child...

http://bit.ly/hXtgii

Jack pushed his best friend through a glass window the other day. There, I said it. And it could have been much worse...because the stairs were half a foot to the left. Every now and then I find I am the parent of THAT child and it is so embarrassing.

Now a few things that I know to be true about Jack; he is very intelligent and way handsome. He is kind, compassionate, patient and encourages those around him. He is empathetic to a fault, sometimes skiing away from us so he can check on that random guy who just fell over. Jack is the child who plays so inclusively I have to remind myself that he is four.

Crime Scene

But he IS four. And sometimes he looses his shit.

On this night, loosing a game of Mario Party proved too much, and he pushed the boy who won. Unfortunately they were on a pull out bed in our television room which sent his best friend flying (thank the lord above that it was not down the flight of stairs) off the bed and through the 75-year-old-original-to-the-house-glass-door.

First things first. He should NOT have pushed his bestie. Obvious. But why, when he loose his cool so rarely, does everything seem to conspire to make the event soooo epic?! I mean when Jack gets pushed, or bitten, or some brat pulls his hair I seem to be the only witness and life goes on. But when Jack pushes his friend it happens to be the day we let them play on the pull-out (usually they sit on the green table above), sending said friend off into the air, AND through a GLASS DOOR!!!!! What the what?! Seriously?!

When Gramma asked Jack why he had done it he answered through tears, "I just don't know what happened...I never do stuff like that.". Jack has apologized, and all has been forgiven. He does not really grasp what could have happened (killing your bff is a pretty heavy concept) but he is paying for the glass with money from his piggybank. THAT has made a huge impact with him.

And my girlfriend still lets her baby play with mine. So there's that. Oh, and the Wii has been moved back to the playroom.

Wordless Wednesday - Does This Count?

Somethings Gotta Give...

I have some fantastic news...wait for it...wait for it... I am officially enrolled in the Self-Employment Program here in Rossland (well, Greater Trail I guess)! Now I have kept fairly mum on this whole subject but with this latest development the cat is out of the bag. This is the news we have been waiting for!

Both my husband and myself have long dreamt of owning our own business, we just never knew what that was going to look like. Then just over six months ago, in the few days between putting an offer on a house here in town, but before listing/selling our Vancouver home, we decided to start a brewery in Rossland. Then we packed up our old life in Vancouver and began our new life here.

Here is how the idyllic dream looks: We (me funded through Community Futures and Michael as my unpaid man servant) establish Rossland's first brewery since prohibition put the Le Roi Brewery out of business at the turn of the century. Then we are on our own. We have a smallish store-front, on-site craft-brewing, retail and tasting room on Columbia (Main Street). Our little Company begins to support and sponsor all the fabulous events that the wonderful people of Rossland create, host and attend. Investors come out of the woodwork to throw money at such a fabulous idea enabling us to grow and prosper. We build an entirely green, zero waste, incredibly efficient brewery which truly reflects Rossland and our communal values. We even employ some local farmers to grow our hops which is mutually beneficial. The Brewery garnishes heaps of local support, and because it is easily one of the best beers anyone has tasted word spreads like wildfire and our Brewery becomes a tourist attraction as well. From there it is all up.

Currently I find myself writing, researching and developing a business plan under the tutelage of the Program. Michael is in Vancouver again this week, (hopefully he'll have and audition and book a another part before Christmas!) which means in addition to business planning I am the sole parent here for a week. YAY! Sarcasm, that was sarcasm. Which brings me to the point where I ask your understanding and allegiance. Please bear with me if I miss a day here and there over the next few months, keep coming back - I will not be going anywhere!

Thank you all so much for your love and support, for your readership and comments. Oh, and if you have a half million kicking around, I know just the place for you to invest it :)

Dreaming...

As an actor I volunteered to play the rejection game. I'm sadistic that way I guess. I walk into an audition room full of the knowledge that the people on the other side of the desk have made up their mind before I have even hit my mark. These are my choices and my experiences as an adult, so it is completely different to watch my children experience the rejection of not being chosen.

Stare.ca

I know this is a life lesson and that it will serve a child well in the future. There will be teams Jack and Isla won't make,  or friends who do not want to play with them. She might not get a speaking part in the school play and his poem might not be picked for publication. Then again, they might.

We started making trips to Science World beginning when Jack was just a baby. It really is a great place to wile away a rainy day in Van. The kids love the familiarity of the static exhibits, anticipate things like Lego or Body World coming to town, and always there is the excitement of 'making' things work. My little scientists.

Anyhoo, in the four years we had been going, Jack had never been chosen to be a helper on the Science Stage at a live show. Granted for the first year he was a spitty lump, then I guess he was still pretty little for a while to play with Hydrogen and such - but he didn't know that. Jack always wanted to be picked and every time he was not, he was crest fallen. I tried my best to use these moments as empathetic teaching tools. "Maybe that little girl had never been picked either", "They were using big kids today", "It will be your turn one day, it just wasn't today". But still, baby Jack really had no frame of reference.

Too soon it seemed, our final trip to Science World arrived. In between experiments and tactile experience I tried to impress upon Jack and Isla both that this was our last visit before we moved to Rossland. We went to a Science Show, it was great as always, except that you-know-who never got to go up on stage. Still, we stayed for many hours, and then it was time for the last show of the day.

It was a weekday, so after about 2pm all the school kids had gone. As we sat down, there were maybe 5 or 6 other audience members. Isla was sleeping in her stroller. I had a good feeling in the pit of my stomach. "Jack," I said "I think that you are going to get picked today! Make sure you hold your hand up high." He held his little hand up so high and this wonderful staff member called Jack onto the stage! After what seemed a lifetime of waiting to a little person, he was finally chosen.

I could not have been more proud. Afterward I approached my new favourite staff member and explained Jack's circumstances. He told me I could always come and make a special request, but somehow that would have felt like cheating. Jack had made a wish with his whole heart and that day the lesson he learned was that dreams do come true...and he has the video to prove it!

Cook, Clean, Sleep Repeat...

I am feeling a little under the weather and am calling in sick. So who do I call? There are no sick days for the 24 hour parent. The kids have music class, then they insist on being fed, despite their decries they REQUIRE a nap and then I have to feed them again. And clean up in between. I need an extra-long weekend. 

Wordless Wednesday - Family Portrait

Technical Difficulties...

It is Monday and I am feeling overwhelmed and under-researched. We were away all weekend (in the car mostly) and Mike has gone back to Vancouver to work for the next week and a half.

Not usually one to get a case of the Mondays I am finding this day particularly debilitating thus far. I have one baby to the left and one to the right - both are spewing a constant barrage of verbalization at an unreasonable volume, and being especially demanding... about EVERYTHING. I think they need some concentrated attention.

What I am saying is I will be back tomorrow guns blazing and my wits will be functioning at full capacity, so thanks for stopping by and I hope you'll be back in the morning! For now I have an arse to wipe and it is not mine.

That Itch

That Itch

Bronze Dibatsu in Kamakura

I have that old familiar itch. So does my husband. It's not what you think, not that 7 year itch, but the kind one gets when you are bitten by the travel bug. Before we were married we had both travelled to places in and around Australia and Europe separately. The places we travelled after we were married you could count on one hand.

Then last year Mike and I stumbled upon a seat sale to Japan - $420 round trip/each + taxes for two weeks. It was an incredible deal - if I had not been on the trip myself, I would have said it was too good to believe! Add to this spectacular price the fact that Mike's brother lives in Tokyo and we had a place to stay I bought the tickets pretty much on the spot.

Our mothers graciously flew from Alberta to Vancouver and lived in our home with our kids for one week each. A huge blessing. Though, I was fairly reluctant to leave Isla. At the time she could have flown for free, but we weren't sure how easy or difficult travelling with a 22month old in Tokyo would have been. In the end it was really nice to spend two weeks of one on one time together, something we hadn't done as a couple in over 5 years!

Matsumoto Castle

Japan was AMAZING! We travelled as far and wide as was possible in two weeks. From Tokyo to the Sea of Japan, Osaka, Kyoto, Hiroshima, Nigata, Endoshima, Hakone and many more. The country and cities are breathtaking at the best of times, but it was fall, and especially beautiful. We saw Mt. Fuji twice in the distance on separate trips, apparently quite a feat. Ironically on the day we went to see the volcano it remained shrouded behind the cloud cover!  

Now a year later I am dying to go back. My desire possibly exacerbated by the knowledge that I cannot go right now. I am actively resisting looking up seat sales on Flight Centre's website as my little family is on the cusp of a new adventure, (one I will tell you about later) and I know it will be a while before we can spend our time or our money in such a way again.

Tokyo Tower at Dusk

To All the Rossland Ladies

Heather Good - www.heathergoodfineart.com

I have been so inspired by the women that populate this town since I have moved here. They are entrepreneurs, teachers, nurses, mothers, artists, adventurers, and more. Last night a new found friend brought me to Glee Club. Yes. Glee Club. And do you know who was there? Everyone, see above.

Michelle Tanguay

A few weeks ago another wonderful new friend, pictured right *gulp*, took me mountain biking (real mountain biking) for the first time since before I had popped out poppets. And do you know who we saw on the trails hiking, biking and berry picking? Other women. Again, see above.











There is a women's Roller Derby Team (Gnarlie's Angels), Women's Shuttle Night (a van takes/pulls women/bikes to the top of Red Mountain and they bike down) and on select evenings there is wine and chocolate at Mountain Nugget which is owned and operated by one of the towns  Womentrepreneurs Trish Dyer whom I featured in last weeks Artist Homage after the ride. The town is home to Stephanie Gauvin who is a a world class artist, and skier...and I am dying to meet her. There is even a town-wide ladies night out on occasion!

www.bettygohard.com

When all is said and done I am stoked to raise my daughter here surrounded by strong, compassionate, artistic, cultured, talented, athletic, self-sufficient women! The candy on the apple is really that the men of Rossland support the women and patronize (the good way!) our business endeavours. I always joke that the boys in town are ruined for life outside Rossland, the girls they were raised with could do anything they could do - and lots of times better :)

Dummy Fairy

Have you heard of the Dummy Fairy? The Dummy Fairy has been to our house once before, she will soon be visiting us once again. I am gonna go ahead and humble myself right now and confess it is not my fabulous idea but that of the Super Nanny. There I said it - but it is one hell of a notion and I have adopted it fully into my parenting arsenal.

When Jack was almost three our house had a visit from the Dummy Fairy. The Fairy came in the middle of the night (just like her cousin the Tooth Fairy will) and took away his dummy to give to a baby who needed it. In place of his beloved she left a rechargeable night light and a puzzle. That was me - I thought something for the night and something for the day would help a little man out.



Isla will be three this fall. The time is fast approaching for our next visit from the Dummy Fairy. Isla is in her "big girl" bed, she is potty trained (day and night), has slept through the night for forever, and she is already sort of weaned from her dummy. I guess it just comes down to her parents.

For all of the reasons listed above, I am the one having a hard time with the Fairy arriving presently. She is growing so fast, in so many ways but, when she is using her dummy she still makes baby noises.  Those noises stopped as soon as the Fairy came to Jack. Sigh. Her prezzies are even waiting in the closet. I am going to have to suck it up, I know, I know. I think I'll go for a snuggle.

Honestly?!

There is nothing more moving than the glaring honesty of a child. It is not filtered, or manicured, manufactured or checked. It is akin to verbal diarrhea. The brain sends an impulse and the mouth lays it out for all to hear.

A few years ago I was in the grocery store with Jack. When we got to the till I confess I let some air escape, from my behind. The store was very busy (read loud) and in my defence I was probably pregnant. Anyhoo, no one heard. Except for an arse high Jack. With his new found language skills he declared, "Mommy fart. Mommy fart." to the cashier/anyone within earshot, over and over with increasing persistence as I attempted to ignore him and get the heck out of there. Awesome.

When one of my children says to another, "you talk funny" or refers to the neighbour as "the grumpy man who lives next door" I am mortified more often than not. Sometimes it is hard to remember they are not judging, but stating what they perceive to be fact, and I receive the comment coloured by my own experience and/or embarrassment. They are not saying these things to be mean. The neighbour next door looks like a grumpy character from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, but also like Santa, so I was able to suggest as much - and as everyone knows Santa is never grumpy. I told them stories about when they mispronounced words because they too were little once and learning. Yet, despite knowing this, it still stings when a two year old makes a comment about my spotty face.

We bring them books, teach them songs, play stacking and sorting games all geared towards differentiation and separation and then we are shocked when they bring their astute observations into the real world. Because you cannot un-ring a bell, and words can hurt, especially when they come out of an innocent face. But we are all different. My children adore being told they are special and unique, so I need to seize the opportunity when they notice that others are different from themselves. To help them acknowledge and appreciate the difference rather than fear and judge. If I wait until they are in the schoolyard it will be too late. Again I am reminded of the steep learning curve that is teaching empathy without loosing individuality.

All this being said, I could have a million dinner guests singing glowing praise for my fare, but it will never mean as much as when Jack starts in about how amazing my cooking is because he is incapable of insincerity.  This morning as I was pulling my hair back, Isla announced as if she could no longer contain herself, "Mommy, you are soooooo beautiful!".  I have never ben more flattered.

Thursday Throwback

After meeting some pretty incredible women here in Rossland due entirely to having two wonderful poppets, I thought I would re post this article from June. I wrote it with my heart open, and expectation high, a few weeks before the actual move itself. 

Baby Mommas

There are always been those BIG moments in life when one worries about making new friends. For example changing schools or, ahem, moving.  

Making new friends is something I have taken for granted in the past. Always being in one form of institution or another, the same people day after day, has its advantages. In retrospect school is sort of a give in the friend-making department. Thrust amongst a thousand peers for years one is bound to find at least one like-minded individual. Extra-curricular activities from K-12 are the proverbial friend-making icing, being a concentrated pool of similarities and shared interest.

After graduating from University and moving out of the city where I grew up I found myself, for the first time, with no real friend generating systems. I had to pursue friend-making. It was hard. There was more baggage. Ugh. But then something miraculous happened. I pushed out a baby!!!

Having children have afforded me that coveted "in". Babies are like an institution in and of themselves.  I find spending hours on playgrounds and in playdates fosters discussion and openness with my new peers. Suddenly making friends seemed easy again. We swapped poop stories and labour tales, shared laughter and tears. The walls came down and I have become friends with some incredible women. Women whom I will miss dearly, but are the special kind of friends that no time nor distance seems to pass between.

I am banking on Jack and Isla to get me through the Mommy-door in Rossland! They really are great little icebreakers and the kids are still at that invaluable age when my friends children are their best friends as well.  I know this luxury will end one day soon when Jack and Isla begin making their own friends, but by then I should be well imbibed in Rossland mommy-culture!

8 Minutes

Saturday morning. The imminent trip to the Pumpkin Patch looms in the near future.

8:00am: Kids have been up for an hour (inherently I have been as well!)

8:30am: Dogs have been fed, watered and relieved.

8:50am: Kids have been fed, watered, dressed and mostly brushed.

8:55am: I duck away to Twitter quickly about the name, location and other pertinent info regarding the day trip we have planned.

9:00am: The ladies we will be carpooling with arrive on our doorstep with wonderfully appreciated punctuality.

9:01am: I can hear my husband offering coffee to our guests as he returns inside from puttering somewhere outside.

9:02am: Michael exclaims, "what is that smell?".  I logout and head downstairs.

9:03am: I round the corner into the hallway to discover on my right; my son stripped naked in the washroom, and on my left; that Velma has shat all over the living room rug. Two things are apparent:
1. Clothing hinders ones progress on the pot and 2. Velma still is not feeling well.

Eight minutes. It took a grand total of eight minutes for the household to self-destruct. I hear myself saying, "Remember 10 minutes ago when we were all ready to go?!" I get the sinking feeling our ride-mates are regretting their timeliness.

The wonderful thing about beginning your day on a low note is that there is no where to go but up!

Harvest Moon...

This years Fall Equinox and the Harvest moon happily converged. It really was stunning if you got a chance to see it. I mean, it looked like daylight outside despite the setting of the sun hours before, and it is not going to happen again until 2029.

The leaves here are turning. Bright red, yellow and orange - and I have crocuses blooming in the garden, is that normal?! Anyhoo, it really has put me into an Autumn state of mind. I am presently digging out my fall wreath and tomorrow we are headed to the Spencer Hill Orchard and Gallery in Grand Forks for the Apple Festival to grab some pumpkins and homemade apple juice.  Mmm pumpkin patchy apple juice :)

 

Buying pumpkins now and trying to keep them through the month can be difficult. Last year my friend Jo (who carries the Martha Stewart gene) passed along a super trick, that I am now passing along to you!






Preserving Your Pumpkin:
Fill you kitchen sink (or another deep basin) with cold water. 
Add 1 cup of Bleach
Submerge Pumpkin (or other lovely gourd-licious decoration) fully.
Let soak for 1 hour.
Pumpkin can be resoaked closer to carving time to ensure no mildew or mold!

It worked like gangbusters! The pumpkins I had last year lasted so long I was beginning to wonder if they had cured all the way through. I thought, "Great, I won't have to do this again! I'll just store these and reuse them every year!" But when I started decorating for Christmas in the first week of November (I know, I know, but it is a season people!) I put them outside and a squirrel ate them. Oops. Obviously I am starting from scratch this year, but it is too much fun to skip!

On the Road Again...

For the past ten years my husband and I have shuttled back and forth from the Coast of BC to visit our loved ones in Calgary. From Vancouver, the journey always begins in the wee hours of the morning, travels through several majestic ranges, up and down passes hemmed in by picturesque mountains, then we are finally pushed out into the breathtaking Big Sky Country that is Alberta.

It is a remarkable trip that we have down to an unremarkable science. He drives, we sleep (which is a nice change from "Isla screams").  We drive from full to fumes, sometimes rolling into gas stations just to make the very best time we can. Before kids the trip took around ten hours. After, it could take upwards of twelve. Rossland is smack in the middle, almost a perfect 600km bisector between Vancouver and Calgary. It now,  in theory, takes half as long to get to either end.
















I always envy my dear friend who stops. She stops in Osoyoos and lets the kids play a round at the mini golf. She stops at parks and she lets the kids out to play, completely disregarding how this effects the "time" she is making from point A to point B. As much as I "know" life is about the journey and not the destination somehow I never was able to make the literal jump!  We decided to stop and smell the proverbial roses.

Frank Slide sits at the foot of Turtle Mountain and neither Mike or I had visited the site for the better part of two decades. We left the dogs in the truck and went in with the kids to the lovely new interpretive centre. It was a wonderful digression. We watched documentary films, played with touchable exhibits, read heaps of first hand accounts and relearned about this historic, and preventable tragedy.

90 minutes later we returned to the vehicle ready and eager to get back on the road. Mike opened the door and was met with a terrible stench. Velma had unleashed an epic and entirely preventable tragedy of her own. We had left her out of her kennel. It was all over Isla's car seat and everything surrounding it. Not unlike most trips into the city we were returning at capacity and the kennel needed to be collapsed to fit Santa's booty into the wayback. That was a mistake. The mess only seemed to have hit porous, absorbant surfaces. Ughhh. I think we used an entire box of baby wipes to little or no avail. We lamented the remaining hours in the reek. As it turns out, nothing gets rid of that new car smell like a dog with diarrhea.

Guest Post - Brandie Weikle

I am thrilled to present the first guest post on ag.gray.gate! Brandie Weikle was featured earlier this week in the Artist Homage and without further adieu here is her article itself:


The kids are heading back to school this week, and I can’t help but yearn for some of that same newness that September brings when you’re young. Nervous tummies aside, who can forget the sense of possibility that came with that backpack of empty duo-tangs?

I took each of my boys, Cameron, 7, and little Alister, 3, on separate walks down to the little stationary shop on Bloor this weekend. My little guy is bound for Montessori school and in need of his first pencil case. And my first-born, now a “Grade Two-er,” needed the ritual purchase of new pencils, sharpener and glue stick, almost as much as he needed the reassurance that he was tall enough for second grade.

I’d love some new school supplies almost as much as a pair of nude platform pumps to complement my fall wardrobe. But while I don’t need a new binder (or, I guess, even the shoes - drat) I can satisfy that yearning with art supplies. So, I got a few new drawing pencils this weekend.

Because I’ve spent my whole career in journalism, and consider myself the most beginner of visual artists, it was a surprise when my sister wanted to feature me on her blog’s new weekly artist homage (secretly I’m thinking she was running out of people) and have me guest post the next day.

But then I got to thinking that maybe the subject of art doesn’t have to be that far off my usually parenting beat (I edit two websites for the Toronto Star, and write about a blog about parenting). All kids make art and all parents are capable of making art with their children.

When I was a little girl I was apparently quite easy to entertain with paper and crayons. I was forever trying to make snow globes out of jam jars and tiny bits of crumpled-up tin foil. I entered earnest little portraits of my best friend in the country fair. I painted posters to announce the rec-room premieres of my most recent plays.

Paintings by two grandparents decorated the walls of my homes growing up. In addition, we were also cottage neighbours (though we call them cabins no matter what their size out west) with artist/activist Wallis Kendal 

My most vivid memories of his artwork are of the canvasses that depicted what he saw on his trips to some of the most underdeveloped parts of the world. But artistically he’s now best known for his collaboration with Sandra Bromley on the Gun Sculpture http://www.gunsculpture.com/, an anti-violence installation made of 7,000 decommissioned weapons that has been exhibited around the world, including at the UN headquarters in New York and at the Centennial Exhibition of the Nobel Peace Prize in Seoul, South Korea.

Wallis would occupy us on rainy days with papier mache projects, kept up an elaborate fantasy that there were elves in the forest surrounding the lake who we just missed meeting because it was bedtime, and let us make banana peel ice cream for a “gross-out” party. (Everyone should have an eccentric artist or two in their upbringing.)

When I was a teenager Wallis took me to buy my first proper camera, a second-hand Pentax K-1000. Then we tromped around Edmonton’s Fringe Festival so I could photograph all the colourful buskers and artists. I felt like SUCH a serious photo-journalist.

I can’t bring his artistic ability to the table, but I do cover mine in newsprint and bring the kids and their friends there to work with paint brushes, acrylic paints and canvasses that make them feel like real-deal artists.

We have kind of an awesome time.

No matter how big you are, you get to create.

We’re working on a gallery in our basement stairwell.

Doesn’t just looking at these supplies make you want to give it a go yourself?

I’m quite sure that the kid in you will look at a blank canvass and appreciate the possibilities.

Not a bad metaphor for life, really.


-Brandie Weikle

Wordless Wednesday - Our First Sick Days

Homage Monday - Brandie Weikle

via parentcentral.ca

Today I have the honour of featuring one of my favourite artists, Brandie Weikle. Brandie is an immensely talented and ambitious writer, the fantastic mother of two young boys, helplessly beautiful,  a gifted painter, foodie, design guru, and brilliant as all get out. Brandie is also my sister, I simply adore her.


In Brandie's own words,"I am an online and print journalist with specialties in parenting and health. Currently I'm the editor of two of the Toronto Star's specialty websites, parentcentral.ca and healthzone.ca. I decided to be a journalist in about grade 10 or 11, after I started writing for my school newspaper. But the very first thing I ever wanted to be when I was a wee girl was "an artist." In high school I discovered that I didn't have the drawing skills for art or architecture as a profession, but I continued to have an aesthetic yearning for the whole paint and canvass experience. I think it runs in the family. As you know my Grandpa Weikle painted landscapes. So did my mom's mom, Edna, who died before I was born. I started buying canvasses and painting them as what I'd call "decor art" about 10 years ago and then in the last few years, started dabbling in abstract landscape and realism, particularly as I became interested in birds.".

Regarding the yellow bird image: Birds are my current favourite thing to draw and paint. I guess it was my interest in birds that interested me in spending time drawing and painting for the first time since childhood. This image is the other kind of multimedia in my life. The branch the bird sits on is created using cutouts from a magazine. The pieces are from a picture of a long full skirt by Coach. The iconic print is kind of deconstructed here and - if you blur your eyes - it kinda mimics the black and white colour contrast of a birch branch.

I selected the colours of this picture so I can hang it next to this landscape, which is painted from a photo I took on a drive from Calgary to Drumheller, on the way to the dinosaur museum, of course! People go all the way to Provence to photograph the sunflowers against the blue sky, but the same colour combination is available right on the Canadian prairies every summer with fields of canola against all that big sky. It was a windy day, and I liked the way the grasses in the ditch were moving in the foreground.

Later, I got the idea to paint a bird cage with the door open, over two canvasses, to hint at the idea that this might have been someone's domesticated canary gone free.
-Brandie Weike

Brandie lives and works in the Greater Toronto area. You can read her insightful and informative online blog at the Toronto Star.