Peace for Our Communities

Living and working in the North End, my family and I have the pleasure of hearing church bells now and then—from the Holy Ghost Church on Selkirk and the Holy Trinity Ukrainian Orthodox Metropolitan Cathedral on Main near Redwood.  These bells chime in a predictable and comforting pattern amidst the more chaotic sounds of gunshots (I always hope they’re firecrackers), sirens (which we hear often), honking cars (particularly annoying between 11 and 6), and yelling (which we fortunately don’t hear too often).

With Christmas approaching and snow on the ground, I’ve been drawn to singing Christmas carols—those comforting and predictable songs that return every year as part of the Christmas tradition.  When I first started singing them as a child in church, I didn’t fully grasp their deep and profound messages.  As I grow older and experience more of the pain and tragedy in our world, I am gripped by the poetic expressions of carol writers and wonder about their experience of life.

I think of “Good King Wenceslas” and the story of a king and his page who witnessed a poor man gathering wood in a snowstorm and how they attempted to bring him food, wine, and logs for his fire with this message from the writer in the final verse:

“Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing, ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote a poem which became a carol when John Marks adapted the following words and added music:

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of Peace On Earth, Good Will To Men

…And in despair, I bowed my head,
“There is no peace on earth”, I said,
“For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of Peace On Earth Good Will To Men.”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep
“God is not dead, nor doth he sleep.
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With Peace On Earth Good Will To Men.”

As we face the harsh realities of murder, violence, family brokenness, and addiction in our communities, may the timeless words of Longfellow breathe hope into our hearts.   May we all join him by wishing peace and good will to everyone we meet.  

If you’d like to hear this carol and others, please join me at Sam’s Place just across the river at 159 Henderson for “Christmas in Story and Song” on Wednesday, December 21^st at 7:30.

Sustaining Beauty in our Community

When we moved into the North End five years ago, the community garden on the end of my block helped me feel more comfortable in my neighbourhood.  That splash of colour and beauty did a lot to brighten my street and welcome me.  Actually, there were two gardens: one on either end, but the other one was vandalized a few years ago and has since been dismantled.

It's amazing what a few flowers and a bit of care can do for a neighbourhood.  As my kids have grown, I've enjoyed showing them the different plants and discussing their colours and shapes.  I always wondered who spearheaded the garden project and who maintained it.

I finally learned who is responsible.  First, I'd noticed two composting bins go up.  Seeing signs instructing users on which one to add to, I assumed it was a community compost heap.  I was extremely delighted, as I have wanted to put my fruit and vegetable scraps to better use, but have been too intimidated to start my own compost pile.  Since I go by the garden quite often, I could envision easily carrying my pail there and dumping it.  I just wasn't certain if I was allowed.

 Then, when I saw people working in the garden, I was very excited my questions would finally be answered.  I talked to one of the ladies as she trimmed onion stalks.  She was actually under the weather, but working hard and willing to answer my questions.  I gathered that the compost bins were not intended for community use, but rather for the garden itself--its spent plants and so on.  I was a bit disappointed, but not deterred.  “Could I still contribute?” I asked.  She thought perhaps I could, and gave me the number of the person in charge.

A few days later, I received confirmation and a few clarifications.  I found out the garden, as well as a half dozen others, are run by the William Whyte Residents' Assocation (boundaries: the south side of Redwood, north side of Selkirk, west side of Main and east side of Arlington).  Ours is the only perennial garden, while the others are solely vegetable plots.  Those with an interest in gardening, who lack the space, can contact Annette at 582-0988 if they're interested in signing up for next year.  The WWRA meets every month on a Wednesday at Pritchard Park.  They offer a variety of programs to improve life in our neighbourhood, including a Toastmasters Club, snow clearing for seniors, youth drop-ins, and a Citizens on Patrol Program.

I'm now happily collecting my carrot peels, apple cores, and other various organic materials and adding them to the mix.  If you live near Aikins and Redwood and have a basic understanding of composting, you're welcome to contribute as well.  I'm proud that our neighbourhood is participating in sustainable garden practices while adding beauty and hope to the community and its residents!

The Big Race

I met my Conservative candidate the other day—John Vernaus.  It was a new experience to be visited by someone who wasn’t NDP.  In the federal election and by-election, it was always the NDP knocking on doors—although I’ve missed meeting Kevin Chief so far.  I admire those who are willing to walk in our neighbourhood.  It says a lot about their courage and their commitment to know and serve the people they want to represent.  I figure if a candidate knocks on my door, I’ll take the time to listen to them.  If we can have a back-and-forth conversation, it’s even better.

That’s what happened the other night.  Seeing John in our neighbourhood and hearing his plans gives me hope that there are solid options for people to choose from—options that will bring positive change to our community.  On the one hand, we have home-grown businessman and activist John Vernaus.  On the other hand, we have development-minded, visionary Kevin Chief who is raising his family in Point Douglas.  (Sorry, Liberals—I haven’t heard from you).  Both have ideas of how to make our community stronger and safer.  I know Kevin won the hearts of many when he ran for Judy Wasylycia-Leis’ position and lost to Kevin Lamoureux.  He definitely won my respect.  And from the looks of the orange signs everywhere, he’s got quite a few committed votes.  This has been NDP territory for a long time.  But as Jim Galloway across the river learned in the federal election, you can’t count on tradition to get you in the door.  With an excellent campaign and tireless effort, John Vernaus could surprise people as long as he hasn’t started too late.

Regardless of who wins the race in Point Douglas, my hopes are that our MLA will:

1.  Work hard for this area and be visibly involved with events and organizations
2. Make himself available to actively listen to constituents
3. Take a balanced approach to meeting the needs of diverse people in our area: the business owners, the vulnerable, the young and old, the working and welfare
4. Steward resources wisely and have a strong voice for our people in provincial decisions
5.  Be honest, humble, diligent, innovative, and respectful
6. Persevere in working for effective solutions to the complex challenges related to crime and safety, addictions, drug and human trafficking, gang activity, violence, child hunger, education and employment, community development, immigrant integration, and economic development

It’s a big job.  I’m thankful there are two great men stepping up to the plate to do it.

The Season for Wasps

The weather this summer has been fantastic and the mosquito population at a record low.  If you’re like me, you want to eat outside as much as possible while the weather holds.  The problem is, you’ve been shooing away wasps—yellow jackets to be exact—and some of your family is electing to eat inside.  I’m not sure if the problem is worse in the North End with its open dumpsters, but it is definitely wasp season.

So what can be done?  Should anything be done?  After all, wasps feed on insects that may be eating your plants.  Let me tell you, when I made the mistake of going barefoot in the grass during a recent game of catch with my son, I got motivated to reduce the profusion of wasps scavenging for food.  There is nothing like the intensely sharp, throbbing pain of a wasp sting on the ball of the foot to inspire action.

If you look on the internet, you’ll find many commercial and home-made trap ideas.  Being a true North-Ender, I gravitate toward cheap solutions that utilize what I already have.  I modified an idea I found several years ago and have used it with great success.  The idea is to suspend meat an inch or two above soapy water.  Wasps at this time of year are attracted to protein sources as their colony expands.  As they crawl beneath the meat or dart around it, they dip down into the soapy water and die shortly after.  My solution was to take a cooling rack for cookies, set a rectangular storage container underneath (filled with water and a drop of dish soap), and bait it with a piece of meat on top of the rack (great use for leftover burgers).  My version has a drawback in that local cats like to sneak in at night and steal the bait.  One could likely remove the meat in the evening once the wasps are less active or use a really big piece like the freezer-burned ribs I tried recently.  

I do have mixed feelings as I observe the swarming wasps attacking the meat.  Am I luring all the wasps on the block and making my problem worse?  After all, info sources say they travel up to 300 metres to find food.  Am I actually killing enough to make attracting them worth it?  I’ve noticed less wasps flying low over my lawn and I’ve dumped out hundreds of dead wasps, so I feel it’s working.  Apparently, the sooner you start trapping the better, so that the numbers of wasps don’t get so high in the first place.

By the way, if you get stung by a wasp, soak the area as needed in something acidic like lemon juice or vinegar (more things you have around the house).  It should help neutralize the venom.  (Bee stings are the opposite—use baking soda paste or toothpaste after removing the stinger).  Good luck with the wasps and enjoy your BBQ’s while you can!

Crash in the Community

This week, someone was flying up the street near where we live and work at highway speeds. I am so glad none of us were driving or walking or biking at the accident scene—and that someone’s vehicle ended up nicking the back of this speeding truck and putting him out of commission instead of being T-boned himself. Other high-speed chases ending in our neighbourhood have not had such a positive outcome. I feel angry that the actions of people trying to evade police put innocent people at risk—people in my community.

My husband was so close to the accident on Monday night that he heard the boom and crunch and ran out from the basement of our photography studio, wondering if his building had been hit. He saw the wreckage and the bloody driver lying on the street. He saw the police on scene immediately—gang unit and all manner of squad cars. He grabbed his camera and some shots and called to let me know he wouldn’t be home for supper as he was blocked in, and that he had some photos he needed to send in to some news desks. He heard the story of the couple who might’ve been hit if they hadn’t heard the sirens and gotten off the street.

I’ve been reading and watching some of the coverage of the incident. So far, it seems the focus has been on gathering the details of what happened and alluding to the gang angle. And of course, speaking of how fortunate the mother and kids were not to be in the living room at the time of the shooting that preceded the chase. If more commentary is added, I hope it will include the human element without sensationalizing it. People were going about their ordinary lives when someone trying to escape the law sped through a stop sign at 100 km/h or more, but mercifully ended up only seriously hurting himself and the stolen truck he was driving. I wonder how the man responsible for putting an end to the chase feels about his brush with almost-certain death and the one who nearly caused it. My kids wonder why the guy wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. Maybe he will next time—although I hope there is no next time of this nature. Maybe this nineteen-year-old will realize he’s not invincible. Maybe he'll realize this isn't the movies and real lives are at stake, including his own.

Today, I’m thankful my husband was inside and not backing out of the driveway to come home for a late supper. I’m thankful he was able to use his expertise to help bring the story to Winnipeg. I just hope the focus of the ongoing story will include the everyday lives of people in our community who work hard and live simply. People with children. People with skills. I hope it’s not a one-dimensional story that makes the North End look like one big problem. I guess we’ll watch and find out.

Down in the Dumps

Ever since we bought our first house in West Kildonan, we’ve had a dumpster in the back alley.  We’ve felt very fortunate to take our garbage out whenever we need and not worry about missing garbage day.  These bins are so efficient and convenient.  Unfortunately, they are too convenient.  Pick-up trucks drive by and conveniently dump construction waste, yard waste, and household furniture and belongings into the bins.  

This morning, the bin was piled high as usual, with all manner of things, as if the contents of an unsuccessful garage sale had been transferred there.  It was smelly and full of flies (none of our dumpsters have lids as they were melted in dumpster fires).  I looked over to a neighbouring bin and it was piled even higher and overflowing. 

I know that short-notice evictions happen.  Occasionally, someone on my block might buy a new couch or mattress.  But the amount of furniture, clothing and household items that end up in every dumpster down our alley would dictate that we all get rich or evicted every week.  And that just isn’t the case.

What is the solution?  For awhile, I was a vigilante who chased away trucks that looked unfamiliar or tried to take down license numbers and report them. At best, it moved the problem down the lane (and I have better things to do).  When the city didn’t seem to take action, the idea of direct retaliation became tempting (slashing tires, spray-painting truck boxes, and dumping rotting material into the cab all come to mind when the frustration mounts).  But those types of reaction are not going to promote personal safety or be viewed favourably by the justice system.

So what do we do?  Continue to watch helplessly as our bins invite flies and budding arsonists, and our back alley is taken over by ugliness?  It is depressing to walk down our alley and see the garbage overflowing.  I didn’t fully realize how others view our community until talking with a near-retired neighbour just today.  He recounted how he spotted three young people (with jobs, they pointed out) unloading their truck into our dumpster and confronted them.  The conversation went like this: “You can’t throw your garbage in there—you need to take it to the dump”.  To which came the reply, “What do you mean?  This is the dump.”

If that is the attitude we are fighting, perhaps a media campaign would help.  If enforcement is the problem, is video surveillance the answer?  Something like mobile photo radar?  With a ticket worth $5000, the city should jump at the chance to bring in revenue.  Maybe the only answer is to get rid of the dumpsters altogether.  I’ve heard that’s in the works anyway.  Which is sad.  It’s a shame that such an efficient garbage removal system be trashed.

Meantime, maybe I’ll get creative.  Plant some flowers.  Use some humour.  Maybe paint a sign on my already-pink dumpster that says, “Don’t throw your junk in my backyard—my backyard’s full”.

Police Presence a Gift

On the week-end, our family was at Birds Hill, enjoying the outdoors and the companionship of friends--even got to sing around the campfire.  We returned to Winnipeg just as it was getting dark, all tired and happy.  As we approached our street, a police cruiser, which had been blocking entrance moved, so we were relieved to be able to turn in.  What we saw after was unlike anything we’d ever seen.  For blocks around, cars with flashing lights blocked off every street and back alley, and an officer, hand on holster, stood at every corner.  We were unable to go home, as a police dog was still tracking in our back alley.  A manhunt like no other was underway.

At first we thought we’d just wait around until we got the signal, but it was too disconcerting to be parked in the middle of whirling lights and police at-the-ready.  So we drove north past at least eight cars.  It was incredible.  Finally, we drove far enough out of the action and ended up buying frozen treats for the kids at Safeway to lift their spirits and distract them a little.

What do you say to your kids when their home seems to be in the middle of a danger zone and the police have come out in full force to catch a “bad guy” who’s somewhere in your neighbourhood?  We tried to focus on the positive:  how thankful we are that so many police officers came to help, and how wonderful that all those officers want to protect us and our community.  It worked—somewhat.

Our alley was still blocked off when we returned.  We decided to park out front and asked if we could use our front door.  After an officer shone his flashlight in our yard and the neighbour’s, he motioned for us to enter.  I accompanied the kids upstairs to get their pajamas on and my husband stayed to talk to the officer.  After learning more, he encouraged us to have our ice cream treats upstairs.  The kids watched as two officers and the police dog searched our yard and the neighbours’.  A ghost car was still out front when we went to bed.

In the morning, everything was bright and sunny, and we hurried off to Birds Hill for a church service at the beach.  We stayed there until afternoon and got sunburns.  I still haven’t heard if the police “got their man”, who apparently was involved in a car theft with another person who was arrested earlier that night.  Other than a conversation with a neighbour to hear her experience that night, life is back to normal and until writing this, I’ve hardly even thought about it.

It was quite a sight to see those red-and-blue lights blanketing our community block after block.  Even though the need for such a police presence was anxiety-producing, I was proud of our city’s police force and comforted by the effort they made to keep our neighbourhood safe.

Crisis in the North End

This week, I learned from my husband that there has been a major flare-up of gang activity here in the North End.  Probably everyone in Winnipeg knew it before I did.  I don’t follow the news much.  I just live here, doing the day-to-day.  I had a bit more trouble going to sleep the night he told me.  Seems I was hyper-sensitive to every sound I heard.  Last night I kept a fan running.  I don’t know if it was the white noise, or just a few days of realizing that life is much the same, but I wasn’t as paranoid.

I’ve been much more preoccupied with a different crisis going on this week.  I’m sure the kind of crisis I describe goes on all over my community in numerous ways all the time.  It’s the kind of thing that happens when money is tight.  All it takes is one event to set off a chain of events that jeopardize everything.

My neighbours experienced this kind of crisis.  The loss of a job left them with the possibility of losing their home.  Their lives were in the balance.  And a cheque was slow in coming.  Would we lose them as neighbours?  Would they lose their chance to be together as a family?  How would they rebuild?  Who would the landlord get to replace them?

Their story just reached a happy ending this week.  The cheque came at the last possible minute and it was more than they expected.  We celebrated with a collaborative BBQ complete with fancy summer drinks and ice cream.  I’m thankful for this crisis.  Not that I wish this kind of stress on anyone, but I’m grateful for how it taught us not to take our good neighbours for granted and how it brought us closer together.  

The story I just shared is one of many.  I share it because I think it’s important for people to know that there’s more to the North End than what typically gets reported: senseless destruction, loss of life, and crime.  The North End is full of people who are living their lives day-to-day, working hard, struggling with loss, helping each other out, and celebrating small and big victories.  

Life in the North End is fragile.  The environment we live in can be hostile.  When we enter into each other’s difficulties, our lives become rich and we become stronger for it.  That reminds me of a popular song:

“Lean on me, when you’re not strong. And I’ll be your friend.  I’ll help you carry on. For it won’t be long, ‘til I’m gonna need somebody to lean on”.

Family: Hope and Love

I've just returned from a family reunion in Saskatchewan on my husband's side.  It was one of those reunions where the family is so large that much time is spent meeting new people or getting to know people beyond names and faces for the first time.  Still, there was rich reward in making those connections.

As I was reflecting on the importance of family--people to belong to and people who are behind you--I began to think of all those in my community that lack a strong foundation when it comes to family.  I thought of how much more difficult the past year would have been for me without a secure relationship with my husband and kids and with our parents and siblings.  I have a long heritage of stable relationships (not perfect, but stable) that I often take for granted.

 In my community, many are not as fortunate.  Many, particularly our First Nations peoples find themselves deeply entrenched in a life of relationship-destroying behaviours and self-destructive coping mechanisms largely due to generations of pain and scarring that were inevitable after having children taken away or growing up without the love and nurturing of parents in a supportive community.

I agree with my friend who spends much of his time caring for these very people and listening to their stories, that poverty is not so much a lack of finances as it is the lack of hope in one's ability to change one’s circumstances.  Without the strength of a family that takes care of a child's basic needs early on in life and helps a young adult launch out on his own, any human being will be much more vulnerable to despair and powerlessness, false sources of power and belonging, and methods of escaping rather than moving through pain and sadness.  It happens among rich and poor alike.

We can't imagine the full effects that weakening family structure has on society as a whole.  It may seem easier to point fingers at the resulting problems of violence, drug trafficking/addiction, prostitution, gang activity, and crime and just try to rid our communities of all such things.  While I hope our justice system will improve so that stronger deterrents will be in place and our streets will be safer, I also hope we'll remember there are hurting people involved.  All of us have the same needs for love and hope.  Some of us have been blessed with families who fostered that in us and some are still looking.

I hope one day that the First Nations people all over Canada will actually teach us what it means to be family, for long before immigrants settled and changed their way of life, the First Nations had a culture of family togetherness that we could all learn from.  Until then, I will be grateful for the strong family foundation I have inherited and continue building on it into the future, so that my children will carry love and hope with them wherever they go.

Thankful for Thieves?

I have been struggling with how to write about the not-so-positive things that happen in the North End.  I don’t want to Pollyanna-ize things and yet I don’t want to join in sensationalizing the negative either.  One morning last week, we noticed our gate was wide open.  Nothing seemed to be missing, so we dismissed it. 

Later, we got the full story.  Here’s what happened and how it changed us.  I’m sure many in our neighbourhood can relate, and many more in other parts of the city.

Shortly after we went to bed one night (we must have gone right to sleep), one of our neighbours noticed someone in our shed and yelled, ”what are you doing?”  The would–be thief fled from his futile attempt.  Even though none of our possessions were taken, we lost our sense of safety and security in the process.

Knowing that someone had entered our space with evil intent and went so far as to unscrew our motion-sensitive lights, left us feeling violated and paranoid.  At bedtime, we started jumping at every sound and checking outside for signs of intruders.  After all, if someone had their eye on our yard before, what would stop them from a second attempt?

We’d become trusting again, leaving the kids’ bikes and toys outside, even after losing a scooter and a tricycle.  Were they really safe?  What if the thief came back and took something of real value or destroyed all the flowers I’ve so carefully planted?

The paranoia is starting to dissipate.  Nonetheless, my husband decided to install the deadbolt he bought for the shed a while ago.  And we’re counting our blessings.

We’re thankful our neighbours stepped outside at just the right time.  We’re thankful our neighbours recognized something wasn’t right and did something about it.  We’re thankful nothing was taken.  We’re thankful there was no vandalism.

I wonder if a thief ever realizes the full effect his actions have.  Stealing someone’s possessions, or even attempting to take them is not just about the loss of some material thing.  It can mean the agony of telling a child they can’t do their favourite thing anymore, wondering if you can really afford to replace it, and worrying it may happen again.  It can mean losing the joy of summer entertaining on the BBQ, as replacing it may be the last straw for a family already under financial strain.  Always it means a loss of trust and an increase in fear, at least for a time.  When that happens, more fences go up, gates get locked, garages are built, barking dogs appear, and communities become more closed.  All because someone decided some else’s property would be fun to take.

“Thou shalt not steal” was written for the good of community, I’m sure.  “Love your neighbour as yourself” is the one I need to contemplate.  Isn’t the thief my neighbour, too?

I’m just thankful I’ve got some great neighbours in my community who are looking out for me and my family.

Good Morning

Summer is officially here.  What I like about warmer weather is the way it draws people outside.  In winter we tend to hibernate, but in summer, we garden, we BBQ, we play and relax more, and we walk more.

I’ve been enjoying the process of transplanting flowers and watching seeds push up their first leaves.  It makes me happy to see vibrant colour where once there was only brown.

BBQ season means hospitality in our home.  One of these days I intend to invite some of our neighbours over.  A number of us have fire pits, so the summer season also brings with it the nostalgic smell of wood smoke and relaxed gatherings around the campfire (not to mention wiener roasts and ‘smores).

Call me old-fashioned, but my favourite moments outside have been simply sitting on our porch swing in the backyard or under our gazebo on an old coach with strings of Christmas lights providing ambience.  It’s getting trickier though, with canker worms and mosquitoes starting to join us.

I like to walk in the mornings.  I usually end up across the river as I enjoy the change of scenery and the landscaping ideas.  This year, the river itself has been fascinating as the water levels fluctuate.

What I’ve found most fascinating, though, is the power of a cheerful “Good morning”.  I’m a bit of an introvert by nature—more shy than bold and more of a responder than an initiator.

When I have chosen to make eye contact and smile, followed by a heartfelt “Good morning”, I have been pleasantly surprised by the results.  I used to only do this when the person approaching me seemed likely to respond in kind or seemed similar to me.  Now I try it with most anyone.  It doesn’t always work, due to earphones or an averted gaze.  Not everyone feels trusting enough or has even grown up with the idea.  I, however, grew up in a small town where it was offensive not to wave or at least lift a finger off the steering wheel when meeting another vehicle—and everyone knew everyone.

Living in the city, in a culture of independence and isolation, I don’t expect people to greet me.  But when they make eye contact and return the smile and the “good morning”, it is unbelievable what a boost to my day that small connection brings.  It’s such a great high, I think it’s almost addicting.  

I asked myself, “Why does such a small act make such a big difference in how I feel?”  I believe it’s because we, as humans, were made for relationship.  When we connect in even the simplest way, we light up and our burdens lighten, too.

When was the last time you said, “Good morning” to a complete stranger?  I challenge you to try it.  Don’t give up if you get blank looks or uncomfortable silences.  Start with warmth in your eyes and a smile on your face.  It gets easier with practice.  Once you get your first “Good morning” back, you’ll be hooked!

Fences

When we moved into the North End five years ago, we made a conscious decision not to build a high privacy fence.  In our last home in West Kildonan, we enjoyed sharing yards with our neighbours and their kids.  Although we needed a fence in our new place, both for our kids’ freedom and their protection, we didn’t want to shut off contact with our neighbours.  So we had a chain link fence put in (it didn’t hurt that it was cheaper).

There have been drawbacks, of course.  When belongings are plainly visible to all those walking by, they are easier targets for theft.  Theft is the main reason that many in my neighbourhood are resorting to tall wooden fences, locked front gates, and high sliding back gates.  And the attempted theft and vandalism of our vehicles is why we would love a garage.

I still have mixed feelings about a garage as it will cut off my view of the back alley and make us even more separate from our neighbours on the other side.  

Our decision to be visible to the neighbours beside us has been of benefit to us for the most part.  Seeing as both houses are rentals, we’ve had a real mix of neighbours, but we have enjoyed getting to know them.

Right now, on one side, we have fun entertaining a toddler, sharing our favourite books, lending and borrowing things, and helping each other out.  On the other side, our kids enjoy the attention three brothers give them.  We are amazed at how patient they are with all the questions our kids ask.  If you come by, you will often see a game of hoops or catch happening across the fence.

Fences are a shared border between properties.  Fences give a sense of what belongs to whom.  Fences help keep what/whom we love, safe from intruders.  Disagreements over fences have been known to create animosity between neighbours for years.  The fences in a community reflect the level of trust and the openness among its inhabitants and are a powerful tool in shaping the life of a community.  We need to be careful that our fences don’t prevent us from experiencing the joy of sharing with those who live near us.

Regardless of how different from us we perceive our neighbours to be, our lives will be enriched when we decide to find common ground and build relationship.  Sometimes it comes down to the type of fence we choose.

Dandelions--the North End Flower

If the North End were to have a floral emblem, it would have to be the dandelion.  In my neighbourhood, they run rampant.  If any other flower grew that prolifically, say, like a field of daisies, poppies, or tulips, people would be much more likely to call the show of bright colour a beautiful sight.  But not the dandelion.

Most view the dandelion as a persistent and problematic weed responsible for ruining their lawn.  In the suburbs and other more highly sought-after neighbourhoods, home owners go to great lengths to eliminate dandelions and anyone who takes a more laissez-faire approach is frowned upon.  It happens in my home-town, too.

Here, in the North End, with the high percentage of rental homes, there is much less emphasis on image and even less accountability.  And so, the dandelions thrive.  I imagine this causes some home-owners in our area great consternation.  Others have likely just given up fighting the inevitable.  And some, like me, are devising ways of adapting by eliminating lawns altogether.  I’m seeing a great deal of mulch going into new builds on my street.  I’m hoping to create low-maintenance landscape with perennials if I can just figure out a good design for my front yard.

Dandelions aren’t all bad though.  Did you know that the root is helpful for liver, kidney, and gall bladder health and a mild laxative?  Apparently, it aids in the production of bile (by the liver) which is needed to digest/convert fats.  It also acts as a diuretic, which means it helps the body release fluid from the cells, alleviating water retention and aiding in detoxification.  The leaves can be used as salad greens or in infusions and have similar benefits to the root.

So, the next time you have the satisfaction of pulling out a dandelion with its entire taproot intact, take a bite and enjoy the health benefits.  Just make sure you wash it, scrub it, and soak it for 5 or 10 minutes first—it’s much less bitter that way!  To aid you in your quest to remove dandelions, there are specially-designed dandelion forks available.  I imagine Pollock’s Hardware Co-op on Main Street would be a great place to look.

Can the dandelion teach us anything?  I wonder.  I think that it reminds us to look at what we consider to be problems in a new light, and to look for the good in people.

Rhubarb and Lilacs

I live in the North End, the true North End--where most yards, but not all, have a rather untamed look to them.  When spring comes to the North End, two things become much more apparent: the garbage which accumulated over winter and is no longer hidden by the snow, and the growth of certain plants which particularly thrive in the yards of our community.  Both can be seen as annoying.  The garbage should be taken care of in the next week or so.  The plants are another story.

Some are stubborn weeds like dandelion and burdock.  Others are the result of history--it would seem that those who came before us had a particular liking for lilacs and rhubarb.  I don't think there's anywhere else in the city where you can stroll the sidewalks and take in the delicious scent of lilacs yard after yard. 

Unfortunately, many of these bushes, like mine, have been left to themselves and badly need some TLC.  I am hoping to bring in a few branches and enjoy their beauty on my kitchen table (if I can reach them).

Rhubarb's large, ruffled leaves can be found all over the North End.  I'm still not sure if these wild plants have edible stalks or not.  I do love when my neighbour gives me a bunch to chop and freeze.  It's yummy cooked up with strawberries on top of pancakes.  (Sharing among neighbours is another thing I love about the North End, but I'll save that for another day).

That leaves dandelions and burdock (those tall stalks with burrs that stick to you in fall).  They could probably be discussed in their own story, so for now, I’ll say this about my community: there is a beauty that can be found in my community, passed down through generations of immigrants and other people who have struggled to make a living here.  Some of that beauty can be seen through what was planted long ago and has survived, and some of it is evident in the simple act of sharing what we have with each other.  It is a good reminder to think of the effects our actions have on the future as well as on those we live near every day.