I am running out of time to fix my flagpole. The cord finally wore out so I need a strong armed volunteer to help me dismantle the pole, so I can replace what needs to be replaced. Canada's flag will wave tall and proud along with others in the village on Canada Day.
At the side door, the real entry to the house, in honour of the day, I have begun a unique celebration. I love clotheslines. A long clothesline stretches from my side porch out to the barn roof. Well hung clotheslines are a thing of beauty and beauty is always in the eye of the beholder.
In the middle of June, I set aside red washing for a special load. On Canada Day the line is a fluttering extravaganza of waving red and white; the red winter flannelette sheets, red and white aprons, to remember the women of kitchens past, red wool socks, t-shirts, turtlenecks, bandanas, a bathmat, jacket and ball cap, baby clothes, doll clothes, tea towels. On and on and on the red stretches filling the line from house to barn. Everything rips in a strong sea wind, dances in the breezes, droops in the rain, becomes mysterious in the fog and waits at attention when there is no wind at all.
O Canada, no speeches here. This is my tribute to the country, that is such a part of me.
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