Mental Health First Aid with a Side of Thistles

It was November and the grass was as green as ever at our Nova Scotia home. The pesky thistles were multiplying by the hour in the mild temperatures. I was able to take two long walks each day. The early setting sun was the only hint that winter was only three weeks away. On one of those mild evenings, I was scrolling through Facebook, you know, to see what was new. Who got a new car? Who sold their house? Who won the GOLDRUSH …

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ROCKIN’ AND ROLLIN’ WITH MENTAL HEALTH FIRST AID AND THISTLES

It was November and the grass was as green as ever at our Nova Scotia home. The pesky thistles were multiplying by the hour in the mild temperatures. I was able to take two long walks each day. The early setting sun was the only hint that winter was only three weeks away. On one of those mild evenings, I was scrolling through Facebook, you know, to see what was new. Who got a new car? Who sold their house? Who won the GOLDRUSH…

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An Adventure Whilst House Sitting for Artist-Author, Tomi Ungerer

Mom, Dad, Francis and I had moved into the Nova Scotia home of artist and writer, Tomi Ungerer, and his wife, Yvonne, to care for their property and animals while they spent a few months in Switzerland. We stayed there from January to April. We referred to the location as “down on the island.” Surrounded by beaches, the road to the island was inaccessible during unusually high tides and stormy weather. An old Land Rover ferried us in and out.…

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A PINCH OF CHRISTMAS CHEER GOES FURTHER THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE

We can’t wait to have our children and grandchildren on Christmas Day. Glenn is the noisy (read fun) grandparent who fills the children with sugary treats, gets them all wound up and sends them home. I am the quiet (read boring) grandparent who reads, colours and makes sure everyone is safe. Our home isn’t exactly kid proof. And our grandchildren are no longer babies. The youngest one just turned three. Jeremy and Dana and Allison and Ed are wonderful parents. I get exhausted…

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Gonna Take a Sentimental Journey

Walking ― I’m sure some of you think that’s all I do. My walking route in Bobcaygeon consists of three trips from my house to the Transfer Station (read dump) which totals my daily goal of 10,000 steps. Now we are at my family home in Nova Scotia, and I am trying to settle on two walks each day. Let me tell you about my first walk. I strolled out the driveway, turning left, first passing by the driveway of Caroline and…

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A TUESDAY TO REMEMBER, I MEAN FORGET…

I know it’s not Tuesday; it’s Friday, but we were on the road Wednesday and Thursday driving to Nova Scotia meaning I slept through much of those days. Tuesday was my last day in Ontario and what a day it was. I had a long “to do list”, but I had everything under control, or did I? As a rule, I go with the flow, but there is a limit and as the day wore on, I lost my sense of…

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Please, Sir, Can You Spare a Dime for My Piggy Bank…

HOW WELL DO YOU KNOW ME? Some people would claim I will do almost anything for a laugh. Others would say I am a quiet, shy, aloof person. I would never tell a lie…or would I? Below, you will find eight statements about me. Your job is to decide if each one is true or false. As our granddaughter Maddie would say, “READY, STEADY, GO!”  TRUE     Melda rode a camel in Morocco.     FALSE  TRUE     Melda asked a NS…

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This Year’s Friday the Thirteenth

Why am I writing about Friday the thirteenth on Friday the twenty-seventh? The answer is simple. You see in MELDALAND, Friday the thirteenth skipped a week and paid a visit on Friday the twentieth. Just wait until I reveal some of the things that happened. WHAT RED LIGHT? I left home to pick up some printing and office supplies at Staples in Lindsay. Toodling along Kent Street, listening to CNN, I saw a red light ahead, but it was the wrong red light. Huh? I looked…

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Welcome to Camps Delta, Marriott, Hilton, and Sheraton

Forget about camping at Nova Scotia’s Kejimkujik National Park, Ontario’s Sharbot Lake Provincial Park, Alberta’s Peter Lougheed Provincial Park or any campground for that matter. I much prefer campgrounds with inviting names like Delta, Marriott, Hilton, Sheraton and Westin, but it was not always so. As college students in the seventies, my friends and I could not possibly afford those establishments. Our meagre budgets would only permit a borrowed, canvas tent that reeked of mildew and a car known as “Tin Lizzie,” but…

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