Christmas prep in Upside-Down-Land

Our Upside down Christmas has been, well, weird. It's hot and sunny instead of cold and rainy and I don't have my usual holiday traditions to fall back on. To get myself in a festive mood, let me tell you about Aunt Margaret, who is always close to my heart at this time of year.

Great Aunt Margaret and Great Uncle Sherman were from my mom’s side of the family. He was an architect and she dedicated herself to the fine art of keeping a home and a family. Aunt Margaret was proficient in every single craft you could think of. She created dolls, bags, sweaters, stuffed animals and Christmas ornaments. She won awards at the county fairs for her hooked rugs and with a twinkle in her eye, proclaimed herself a “hooker” to whomever asked.  But her creations were never old lady crafts like the Barbie toilet roll holders or crocheted bookmarks you see in church bazaars. She made those types of things too, but hers seemed to transcend kitschiness and were always charming and cute.

This is Aunt Margaret the year Granny gave her a new bathing suit (note the Christmas cracker crown). One of my absolute favourite family pictures.

Presents from Aunt Margaret were guaranteed to be handmade. Every Christmas, I looked forward to her gifts even more than Santa’s and I saved her present until last, every single year. 

And I was never disappointed.

I still have the hand stitched Brownie doll from the one year I spent in Girl Guides. The doll wore an exact replica of the official Brownie uniform, complete with a sash and tiny embroidered badges. There were endless sweaters, slippers and other knitted items – always beautifully stitched and “cool” enough for a picky kid to wear. I have kept every gift she made for me.

Aunt Margaret didn’t like to show her affection in the traditional manner. She wasn’t the huggie sort and would never think of pinching a child’s cheeks. At Christmas, it was customary for the children to go around and give everyone a “thank you” kiss but, whenever I leaned in to give Aunt Margaret the obligatory peck, she would dodge at the last second and deliver a resounding raspberry on my cheek. Her love was demonstrated in every stitch of her beautiful gifts.

Aunt Margaret died many years ago, crafting until the very end. This time of year, I find myself frequently thinking of her as I try to put as much thought and attention into the gifts I prepare for my family and friends as she put into all of her creations.

Our Christmas Tree last year

Our Christmas tree at home is an homage to Aunt Margaret, really. To go on our Christmas tree, ornaments must be home made. I have a few that she made specifically for me – a felt gingerbread man and a mouse in a walnut shell. I have also managed to acquire a few of her other creations: the quilted angel tree topper came from Granny and Grandpa’s tree and somehow, my gingerbread man has multiplied (Megan and Christopher– I might have yours...) Our first Christmas together, Rob and I had an ornament making party and I think of our friends every year as I unpack the boxes: Jane’s stitched figures, Nick’s Santa stuck in the chimney, Sarah’s origami cranes, Steph’s painted ceramics, Irv’s yellow snowflake, Jess' tiny sweaters... I could go on for ages.

I also recognize Aunt Margaret's lesson in the Christmas traditions of my family:

• The holiday inspired (but not always child appropriate) Christmas playlist my brother creates for our festivities every year.
• The care my sister puts into making a spectacular Christmas dinner even though her house is filled with an entire village of extended family members, noisy children and their dogs
• The huge star my dad puts up on the topmost part of the roof every year, risking life and limb so the grandchildren can squeal in delight as they round the corner and see that big monstrosity with the wonky blinking lights
• The gingerbread house my mom makes, a different one each season, staying up until 2am for an entire week to create an architectural masterpiece which no-one is allowed to touch until Valentine’s Day (I exaggerate – that was just when we were kids. Now the grandchildren are allowed to destroy the gingerbread right after Christmas. It’s not fair, I tell you.)

Every year, as I prepare myself for the Christmas season, I cherish the memory of Aunt Margaret’s gifts – both the excitement I felt to receive them and the joy on her face as she watched me open them. Just because we’ll be celebrating Christmas on the beach this year and I won’t be unpacking all of my homemade tree ornaments, doesn’t mean I’m not thinking of all of you. I’ve made Alice’s nut loaf, Granny’s croissants and Sophie and I have built a gingerbread house. I spent last night ineptly wrestling with squares of origami paper, desperate for Sarah’s help to interpret the directions. I don't have my usual arsenal of craft supplies but I've still managed to make a few things for our new Australian friends and family because, for me, Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without a little crafting.

So, Merry Christmas everyone! May you all be surrounded by family, friends, good music and great food.

Self Directed Education: Tasmania Field Trip

Early on in the exchange, we decided that Tasmania was not on our list of places to go because, from all reports, it is very similar to Vancouver Island. However, Sophie got it in her head that she wanted to go, so I told her that if she did all the research, planning and booking for the trip, I would take her. Next thing I know, she's found flights, a campervan and mapped out a six day trip to the island state that involved wildlife parks, animal sanctuaries and the Cadbury Chocolate factory.

Our home for the week complete with a fridge, stove and surprisingly comfortable bed.

I can now confirm that the climate and scenery in Tassie is exactly Vancouver Island, as long as you ignore the different trees, loud birds and all the animals that could potentially kill you.

See? This could have been taken anywhere in the Gulf Islands

We spent a few days on the Tasman Peninsula, a huge chunk of land connected to the rest of Tassie by a narrow isthmus. Back in the day, convicts who had reoffended were sent to do hard time on the peninsula and the isthmus was guarded by a dog line to prevent the convicts from escaping.

A sculpture to show the size of the eighteen ferocious dogs strung across the dog line

Tasmanian Devils are in a spot of bother in Tassie - Facial Tumour cancer is wiping out the population in the northern parts of the state. The devils on the Tasman peninsula are still healthy so the dog line is going to be used again to deter the healthy devils from leaving the peninsula. Scientists are going to seed the isthmus with things the devils don't like to keep the healthy devils in the disease free zone.

These critters are pretty small - about the size of a rabbit - but very ferocious.

We visited several wildlife parks and fed scores of kangaroos and wallabys. They are messy eaters - my hand got goobered many times.

FYI - they like to be scratched on the chest, not the head or ears

Another highlight was our visit to the Cascades Female Factory where they housed women convicts. You get a tour of the site as well as an historical reinactment of what it was like to live in those times. 

Sophie is locked in solitary confinement and has to pick oakum out of rope as part of her punishment

I had a great time on the trip. The camper van took a little bit of getting used to - I had to practically tuck my knee into my armpit to put my foot on the clutch and I had to drive with my left hovering over the pedal because it was too high to rest my heel on the ground. The van was very comfy to sleep in, but I tried not to think about how many other people had used the sleeping bag before me. It was lovely to let Sophie make all the decisions - where to go, where to stay, how often to stop for coffee and croissants - I was just the chauffeur and credit card holder.

Guess what her favourite part of the trip was?