Friday, 18 June 2010

TEN WONDERFUL YEARS OF SOLITUDE.



Living here in this tiny prairie hamlet has been like a permanent writer's retreat for me. It was an answer to my many anguished prayers for a quiet place near a small town that had a grocery store and a post office. Though I miss being able to take a city bus to any shop I desire, I wouldn't trade this three bedroom house for any in Edmonton.

Since moving from the noise-ridden metropolis, which had been my home for almost thirty years, I have written many freelance articles. My two memoirs were also "penned" here and self-published by a Calgary company called Blitzprint.

From my first book, When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies), here is a brief account of how I arrived in this writer's paradise.

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Poor Gideon had to stay in his cage for most of that eagerly anticipated day on which I moved to Radway. Pastor Doug arrived at ten o'clock that morning with his black pickup truck and we hauled about five loads of furniture and boxes into it while my little prince fumed in his prison. Gideon just couldn't understand why he suddenly wasn't allowed to roam free in his accustomed way.

My bunny, his cage and litter were taken on the last trip that evening. I worried that he'd stress in the carrier, which we had put in the truck cab, but the hour-long trip didn't bother him too badly. Maybe he'd given up being free by that time.

Doug left my place a little after midnight and I was so weary from hauling things that I put Gideon's cage in the bathroom, placed his litter box by the tub and gave him his pellets. Once again he went into his head-bobbing routine. He periscoped and put his paws on the tub and toilet, trying to get a better view of the new place.

I was about to lock Gideon in the cage again when I realized I could contain him in the room. It was about five feet by twelve and he had plenty of space. Bathrooms are great places to keep rabbits in because there aren't many things they can chew on or ruin with urine.

As I went to sleep, I marvelled at the sound of frogs croaking outside my window, instead of the rumble of traffic and the thud, thud of stereos to which I was accustomed.

When I woke up the next morning, I felt like a child at the start of summer vacation. I was free of the city racket and I actually slept without earplugs for the first time in years.

As soon as I was out of bed, I visited Gideon. He had enjoyed the night and to my delight, he used his litter box where I'd placed it. I feared he'd pee somewhere inconvenient, like in the doorway where I'd step in it.

Though I was extremely busy unpacking, I let Gideon explore the laundry room that was next to the bathroom. It was about the same shape and size, and the appliances weren't installed yet. Gideon had a great time conquering that area. In addition to his periscoping, he kept hopping between the bathroom and laundry room as if he were memorizing the route.

My little prince seemed delighted to have two new rooms to call his own and I videoed him putting his paws on things and hopping around. My bunny boy's innocent happiness gladdened my heart and made the chore of unpacking that much easier.

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When a Man Loves a Rabbit (Learning and Living With Bunnies) and Deliverance From Jericho (Six Years in a Blind School), my second memoir, are available at the InScribe writers group site. I hope to have my third, and most likely final, memoir called How I Was Razed published by the end of this year.