The Rest of the Story

©️Steven Tubb, 2020

Chapt 1

Sarah contemplated the chaos of the newspaper, not dysfunctional, but very loosely organized for sure.  And yet, each week information was gathered and a paper produced, order from chaos, victory from the jaws of defeat. Talk about miracles. Talk about a dead end.

Sarah had not worked at the paper for long. Straight from a Masters in Journalism, she took the job because she needed to start paying debts and because, she reasoned at the time, taking the editor up on his offer would be a lot better than entering into the job hunt scrum. She also figured the job need not be for ever. A little experience, good for the resume, keep an eye open for a better position and move on when the right opportunity came along. 

Why her editor had singled her out, she was not sure. He had given a couple of talks at the school. She had found them interesting and had actively participated in following discussions. She had also selected him as her external advisor, not expecting a job offer, rather hoping his experience in the print media would translate into relevant and sensible comment. She found him as an advisor to be balanced.

She also recognized balance was clearly present in the paper’s content with very local articles on the one hand and quality content concerning bigger issues on the other. The editor practiced what he preached. Balance was important to him and was present with gender equity and in the office layout, much like a symmetrical facade. 

Sarah, being a junior reporter, had a cubicle near the front door just behind and to one side of the receptionist, Alice. The more senior reporters were located further in and on the periphery of the common, a central meeting space. The editor was located in an office directly opposite the front door to the paper tucked behind the common. 

Now with every passing week Sarah was beginning to feel her decision to follow the editor had been  wrong. Her student colleagues had found jobs, some in positions she estimated were much better than where she now found herself. Oh sure, she knew at least in theory one would get out of something in direct response to what was put in. Effort, focus and a diligent attitude would pay dividends. Unfortunately, Sarah knew these traits were not her strong points. Time and again her inability to focus got in the way of good journalism. 

Yet, this editor for whom she now worked had seen something in Sarah, something that had influenced his thinking enough to offer her a reporter position. She knew she should be grateful, but all those other opportunities kept coming to mind, the “what ifs”. Slowly though, Sarah had resolved to make the best of her circumstances. Learn a lot and move on. Sometimes it was difficult.

“You look completely busy and preoccupied Sarah,” said her editor, surprising her in contemplation. 

Oh shit, again, caught with my bloody feet up in dreamland. “Yeah, just trying to figure out an ending for that new business story,” she replied as she sat more erect and professional looking.

“Ah, yes, the business story: well, I’ve got another scintillating piece for you to cover. Maybe while you do this the penny will drop on the business story.”

“Penny, what penny?”

“Here, have a scan of this and go see the guy at his talk and book signing tonight. Location is on the yellow note. Have something written for this week.”

As the editor moved away, going toward his office, Sarah stared at the empty sheet of paper thinking, bloody hell, a book signing. Is this what a Masters in Journalism gets you? I am going to have to look at the old career path and see if I can figure out where all this is leading. Can’t see a light anywhere. Can’t even see the bloody tunnel. 

She then considered lunch, the missed morning coffee and the library as an opportunity to shed a bit of light on the author. 

“Be back in a couple, Alice. Going to the library to research this book dude.” She then wondered if it was Alice who held the whole thing together. As she prepared to leave her illusive keys were once again no where. 

 “This time I saw you put them in your drawer,” said Alice.

“Sorry, you saw what?”

“Your keys are in your drawer,” Alice repeated.

Not for the first time Sarah wondered if she was so obviously disorganized. 

Then she quizzed Alice, “How many times this week have you seen where my keys are? Don’t answer, whatever it is it is too many.”

“Twice.”

“Thanks.”

“Enjoy your coffee.”

“Research,” said Sarah.

Sarah then left the office quickly and thought about moving. As she walked around the building she realized work and abode were too close, was struck by the fresh air in contrast to the stale office and thought leftovers on the balcony would be good. As she climbed the stairs to her apartment situated above the newspaper, she realized she had not yet counted the number of stairs and thought again about being so close to work. Maybe it would be  good to have a five or ten minute walk between home and work. As  she entered her apartment calm was needed. She then also realized a walk around the block would work, then closed the door and sat down in her single comfortable second hand swivel chair.  

“Just a minute or two and then a quick bite and go look this guy up,” she said to an empty apartment.

She awoke and as sleep cleared away realized from a daylight change she had dozed more than a few minutes.  With a quick glance at the clock she confirmed it was now 5:30. Calm morphed into anxiety as she remembered her commitment to do a book signing and then panicked a little trying to remember where and when. 

“Get your ass in gear woman,” she scolded, found the information and realized she would be arriving to an event late, again. 

She expected parking would be easy by the library, but soon found her hopes were just that and had to hoof it some distance. As she hurried along a mumbled question could have been heard, “Heels, what is the point of heels? Why do I do this to myself?” 

She followed signs to the lecture room and tried to will a nice quiet dignified entry, an anonymous invisible sort of entry. No one was outside the lecture room to give directions, that is which door to go in. She had never been in the room before so did not know how it was set up. Bent over to listen at one of the doors, she tried to determine where the lectern would be located. 

Then a voice suggested, “You would probably be better going in the other door, if going in is your intent, less disruption that way.”

 As she stood, more dignified now, she said, “Oh good, thanks, I would not want to be a distraction. Are there some empty seats?”

An older man with greying hair replied, “Yup, I think so. It was not a full house.”

“Thanks.” 

As she entered the room the words she heard left her in no doubt the talk was coming to an end.

“So, in conclusion ladies and gentlemen I want to leave you with a couple of thoughts, my book crystallized down to a few sound bites if you like.” 

She sat in a chair at the back of the room and took out her note pad while hearing the speaker continue.

“We made choices a very long time ago in ignorance of where those choices would eventually take us. We have followed on unerringly. Early on humanity had no information to suggest the consequences we are now experiencing. As time and development moved along our knowledge base increased. Gradually, very gradually at first we responded to overcrowding by moving on to the next environment where food, shelter and safety were possible. Slowly the nomadic lifestyle became sedentary. We learned how to stay in one area with seasonal adjustments. We learned how to trade amongst ourselves and with other communities. We developed technologies in our efforts to do the work necessary to survive and thrive.” 

“At first the technologies were very basic, but slowly they have become much more sophisticated and now can do a great deal of work, but at a cost. This system we have created in a relatively short period of time uses a great deal of energy and requires much technological know how. It is modelled around the surrogate, utilizes a great deal of buffering and is currency, energy, technology and growth dependent. This system we have created is also faith dependent, that is we have faith in the decision makers, their advisors and in the body of knowledge gained to date.” 

“Unfortunately, unintended consequences remain poorly understood by the vast majority of people. In parts of the world, here for example, we live well beyond the ability of the earth to sustainably support us. What were once luxuries are now common place. Yet, we have a divided society of “haves” and “have nots” more pronounced today than at any time in the past.” 

“In short we have created systems and technologies designed to do work for us for wealth creation with insufficient regard for consequences. Today a relatively small number of people are in control. Collectively, we are much less knowledgeable about our environments because we have eliminated direct dependence upon them and yet struggle to understand the functions and needs of our communities.”

 “Ladies and gentlemen, there has not been enough time tonight nor was there enough space in my book to set out all the areas where proximity has become illusive. This I put to you is the crisis. Global warming, rising food and energy costs, environmental disasters, unnecessary wars, recessions, mountains of waste and pollution, these are all symptoms of a far greater problem I am afraid will not be easy to repair especially if the collective will to do so is absent.” 

“In short, humanity has become remote from the needs of our communities, the environments we live in, the consequences of the decisions we make, the decision makers and from understanding appropriate scale and knowledge. A physical or economic crisis is easy to identify. We can respond to those issues. Understanding remoteness, recognizing it and changing the juggernaut begun thousands of years ago is a whole other dilemma. Yet it is something I suggest we must do and we must start to do it on a very large scale sooner rather than wait until crises become overwhelming.” 

“We have to understand, in order to make the change it will require the collective will of everyone. We simply have to change the way we do things to be sustainable, to survive. We have to become less remote and more engaged.”

“Thank you for being here and listening to my rant.”

Sarah considered her situation having missed the full presentation, not having read the book and being expected to write something about which she knew nothing. She realized embarrassing herself in the end was the only way she was going to get anywhere with this assignment. 

As Sarah contemplated her situation the moderator approached the lectern as the polite applause diminished to say, “Thank you Greg. A lot in your presentation for us to think about. As was said before Greg started there would be time for questions after his presentation. I won’t take up any of your time in chat, so if there are questions please raise your hand and we will get to you.”

Sarah shifted a little to be more comfortable while figuring she could gain from the questions asked and answers given, maybe enough to write something. Then she noticed people were leaving and wondered how many would stay to ask a question. It seemed even the coffee and cookies was not enough to keep those who were leaving from doing so.

There had been about thirty people, mostly women and mostly older, over fifty she guessed. She had noticed a few thirty somethings and a few young people, probably required to come because they could not be left alone. The men were in the middle to older age bracket as was Gregory, the author. 

Sarah enjoyed looking at people, in particular their hands. She felt hands told a story of their owners life. Unfortunately from her vantage point, the author was too far away to see any hand detail, so she had considered the whole package, at least what she could see of him. He stood about six foot and had the remnants of reddish hair, quite wavy now fading in colour with age. His well trimmed beard still retained a more vibrant red colour and there was no evidence of a receding hair line. Standing at the lectern he seemed quite trim and athletic, confirmed when he moved away from and then back to the lectern to answer questions. He stood erect and wore a sleeveless sweater vest with beige pattern. He did not wear a tie.

Maybe, Sarah considered, the room had something to do with people leaving. It was quite warm, one of those inside rooms without windows relying on the building ventilation system for a change of air.

To those remaining the author said, “Having messed with your minds you can now get your revenge with questions I won’t be able to answer, at least not adequately. Who is first?”

A woman near the front quietly asked as she looked around at those who remained, “Well maybe I can start, that is if nobody minds. You conclude remoteness is the main issue, but what about all those authors and scientists who say climate change and water are the real issues we need to deal with? Are they wrong? Peak oil too. Who do we believe? I am confused and I don’t know what I should be thinking or doing.”

Gregory replied, “First, all those authors and scientists are not wrong. Climate change, water, peak oil and I might add other issues are all serious and require a great deal of attention. We need to solve the problems associated with those issues. There is no question or suggestion we can afford to ignore them as we have for far too long. The solutions however, inevitably will require participation by everyone and to successfully engage people they need to feel, believe their involvement is required and it will make a difference. I would add, they also need to believe improvements will occur for those assisted and for themselves.”

“There is a second responsibility for people and that is to demonstrate their dissatisfaction with historical decisions and to demand mitigating decisions and programmes.” 

“So a twofold involvement and to secure that involvement I believe we need to be more aware and that will only happen if we are less remote, conversely more proximate and engaged. We need to feel the earth between our toes and to recognize soil in good condition. We need to walk and cycle and feel the air and observe. We need to do everything we can to reduce our footprint. We need to do so much and to do it we need to be proximate and engaged.” 

“We have placed too much emphasis on growth and profit. It is time for sustainability and care for our environment and humanity to be front and centre. For you specifically, I suggest you take stock of the way you lead your life. Write it all down and then go through it and see where you can make improvements to reduce your footprint. Seek advise from books, friends and people who seem to have a head start on footprint reduction. Do what you can immediately and plan to do more over time. Talk about it with your friends and see if together you can accomplish more. If we remain remote we will not become engaged and we will continue to be the main problem and the symptomatic issues like climate change will get worse. I hope that doesn’t muddy your thinking.”

“No, but the task is daunting,” said the woman.

“I agree it won’t be easy. Dealing with the alternatives though, for me, is much more worrying. Anyone else got a question or comment?”

A young man in his twenties asked, “I am not really clear what you mean by remote and proximate.”

Gregory thought for a moment and then said, “It is all about attitudes and values at the philosophical level and at the practical level it is about distance and dissolution of buffers. So, we need the right attitudes and values to drive the agenda and practical responses. For example a value might identify the importance of knowledge about and maintenance of local habitat. A complementary attitude might encourage action and practically to conduct an inventory and on site discovery programme. We would not bring someone in to do it for us, rather we would do it ourselves eliminating the middle buffer. If we were remote very little of the local habitat would be known and understood. We would just observe from a distance if in fact we took the time to even observe superficially. A proximate response would see us inside the habitat observing with care and noting all the signs of life, death and abnormality. Other examples of the two extremes can be illustrated in the difference between riding in a car and walking or wearing shoes in the garden compared to going barefoot. Being remote is to be removed from, while being proximate involves intimate sensual engagement. Does that help? Does that make it a bit more clear?”

“I think so” the young man said, “but I think I need to go and think about it some more. Thanks for your presentation though.”

“Any other questions?” the author asked.

A fifties something suit said, “Well I am thinking this proximate stuff would lead to a lot of economic inefficiency. We would get too caught up in the details. Everything would slow to a snails pace. Our economy would suffer hugely and growth would be stalled if not put in reverse. I don’t think we can afford to be proximate, as you suggest.”

The author did not have to consider how to respond this time. 

“Well, you have hit on one of the central questions of our or any time. I take the opposite viewpoint and say to you I don’t think we can afford not to be engaged and take the time, make the effort to know more about where we live and work. Let me put it this way. Discovery demands proximity. What we do with the gained knowledge is in the realm of application of the knowledge. I suggest to you the results of acting remotely leads to unintended and costly environmental and social consequences. Very quickly the degrading consequences are multiplied leading to all kinds of economic inefficiency not to mention costly social, health and environmental ills.” 

“Sure, economics is important, indeed it is a foundation element, but it can get in the way of doing things right especially when the bottom line is the priority rather than the substance or details. On the other hand I do agree we can be weighed down by over studying something. The key is to know when to act, to get on and tweak as necessary. That is however, quite different from blindly, remotely going on for the sake of growth and the profit motive. Further, the economic motive has not been all that successful as time and again we see inefficiencies rearing up at great cost to fix. Let me just say one more thing. I think the impetus to be economically efficient results in a very boring and repetitive man-made or influenced environment. We overly standardize in the name of economies of scale and blanket application of policies so the assembly line can function properly. While the factories are important so is variety, indeed variety is essential to our very existence.”

The man then said, “But if you let the economy go to hell, if you let it disintegrate then where are you. If I want to go from A to B then I want to do so in the most cost effective and efficient way possible. I don’t think being side-tracked to go via C, D, or E is sensible if by doing so it makes the journey inefficient and uneconomic.”

“I never said nor would I say the economy can go to hell. We need it, full stop. I would also caution about being overly linear. It might just be that C, D and E would have advantages which if pursued would enhance the journey from A to ultimately B.”

“Well, I am not sure you are right,” said the man. “I will go away and think about it and see if what you are saying makes any sense to me.”

“Can’t ask for more than that and get back to me if you want to pursue the discussion further.”

“I’ll do that,” the man said as he and his wife turned to go.

An attractive middle aged women then asked, “I understand what you say about remoteness and the need to be much more engaged. I followed that argument. What I am not sure about is what I should be looking for or at. I do not have the benefit of college or university education, so a lot of what you say for me is difficult to translate into practical action.”

The author smiled and hung his head for a moment trying to hide his amusement about the question, not because the question was a poor one, but rather because he knew access to college or university education provided no guarantee those with such education saw the problem let alone knew what to do about it. He did not want the woman to get the wrong impression from his immediate reaction. 

Looking up he then said, “Maybe you do not need a post-secondary education. The key is having an open and questioning mind which with your question you seem to have. Translating the theoretical to the practical is so very important. I have tried in the book to explain at least in small part the answer to your question. Just now, I will say in response, while the theory is interesting to contemplate and it does provide guidance for the practical, the practical action is critically important. We can theorize all day and nothing will happen until we begin to implement the theory with practical action. So, I am advocating we need to be more engaged. That is the theory. Practically we have to ask the difficult questions concerning the past emphases and their consequences involving profit, technological growth, hierarchical organization and a largely blatant disregard for environmental consequences. We need to consider the issues of the day and the reasons why past emphases have resulted in so many detrimental problems. We need to do this globally and locally. Then we need to change our ways, our habits, our choices, our decisions and designs to make practical improvements. We need less stuff and we need to cut way back on our energy budgets. We need to tune our sensory capacity onto our surroundings always asking the questions as we go, ‘Is this right? Is this the way to halt and reverse the degradations? ’How can we do better?’ By engaging in our surroundings, by taking ownership for what happens, by tying all that into our values we can practically find solutions for past mistakes. So, for example, Climate Change will be an increasing problem as we go forward. To curb the growth of its impact upon our environments and us we need to cut out the use of fossil fuel based energy. That would be a practical response, but indeed only part of what will be required and we do not want perceived solutions to become other consequential problems. Does that help? My book goes into more detail and I encourage you to read it and then get back to me with more questions.”

“Well, as the previous gentleman said, I’ll try”.

“Good.”

The moderator then stepped forward seeing there were no more questions, thanked Gregory for his presentation, thanked those still in attendance and ended the evening session.

Greg was relieved, but disappointed in his performance. He felt he had to find a way to address more effectively the woman’s question. He knew, in the end practical responses were going to be the key to a huge and required societal adjustment. He felt it was essential to translate language into action or his message would be lost. Maybe he would have to increase his emphasis on practical projects with his students and in communities prepared to take on what he was saying. He felt tired.

Without reading the book or attending the full lecture, Sarah realized writing a book review was out of the question. If she had the author by himself for an hour she might be able to do the Q&A to get enough along with the book jacket information. She wondered if he was hungry.

As everyone got ready to leave, Sarah approached the author, introduced herself and asked, “Do you fancy a beer and pizza? I’ll pay. I have not eaten since this morning and this looks like a good opportunity for some food and chat.”   

“You are the press, yes?” he questioned having observed her note taking.

“Well, yes I am. From the local paper. I have some questions to clarify what you are saying as I really do not have a good sense of what you are saying. I thought a working pizza might resolve my problem.”

“I suppose if you had been here from the beginning instead of arriving at the last minute my message might be less foggy. I will assume you have not read the book either. On the other hand a free pizza or part there of could cap off the day nicely.”

“I’ll take that as a yes for pizza and just hang around until you are finished. You have a car?”

“Yes.”

“Good, then we can go our separate ways after,” she said. “We’ll have to go in convoy to get there.”

“Of course. I’ll follow.” 

“Good, where are you parked?”

“Out back.” 

“OK, I am down the road a bit so maybe you should take me in your car to my car and then we can go for the pizza from there.”

“Fine by me. I’ll be ready to go in a minute or two after I have a word with the organizer and collect my unsold books.”

Sarah then tried to think of a suitable pizza place, somewhere quiet so they could talk, not too far and not too big. She also thought he moved well, but was too old. 

Greg wondered if pizza with the press was a good idea. He was hungry and even though she seemed to be a bit scattered, a bit of press on the book could be very helpful. He anticipated having to give this reporter more time than he would normally with someone more experienced.

Sarah had picked up negative vibes as she felt he had been a bit terse. When he was finally ready to leave she started asking questions to loosen his tongue.

“So, what got you going on this remote subject?”

“I don’t remember exactly. I have written thoughts down for many years and one day I just thought remoteness has become a real issue AND I could not find any writing dealing directly with it. So, I started to think about the word, it’s meaning in societal terms and the implications for society. As I pondered more and more it became clear the remoteness issue was far more serious and widespread than I had at first thought. Right, this is the carriage.”

“You are joking, yes?” Sarah asked, amused.

“I am joking, no,” Greg replied.

“Where is the golf bag?”

“I don’t golf.”

“You have a golf cart, but you don’t golf?”

“That’s right, the spaces are for passengers three and four.”

“Why a golf cart?”

“It is small and light, very efficient as it is a solar cart and has a slowish top speed making it quite safe used in the right places. Also, aside from the carbon emissions from manufacturing, there is little or no emissions in operation.”

“Do you need a licence for one of these things?” she asked.

“Yes, it is strictly a limited urban licence. So, It can be operated only on certain urban streets and that is fine by me.”

“What is the top speed and how long can you drive it before charging again?”

“20 kph and I can run it all day as the charge is continuous with a solar panel,” he said.

“What about the winter?” she quizzed.

“I walk more often in the winter, especially when there is a lot of snow. As long as the roads are cleared, my little cart does the job. So, let’s get going, hunger is a distraction.”

“Right, back to the front and go right for a bit. This little vehicle is certainly quiet.”

“Yup, just hums along quite nicely.”

“OK, I am just up there on the right, the yellow one.”

“So, where are you taking me?” Greg asked.

“What about The Pizza Nook? I think they are open late. They have a little courtyard out back we can sit there and chat.”

“Good, I’ll see you there in a few minutes. Choose a good table in a corner,” he suggested.

“Right, but I think I might have a slight problem. Can’t find my keys. Let me just look in the car as I may have left them on the seat. Yes, OK, I will have to organize for a garage to open the lock, but I can do it later. We are going to have to go in your cart for now,” she apologized.

“OK, hop in.”

As they hummed along Sarah thought a second key would work and then thought she would probably misplace it too. She turned her attention to Greg and her assignment.

“So, where did you grow up and any influence from those early years on your thinking today?”

“Here and probably not, as I really did not start to think until university and I was away from here for that momentous period.”

“And?” Sarah asked.

“And what?” 

“And what happened at university that got you thinking?” 

“Absence, voids, distance,” he replied.

“Mmmm, could you explain a little more what you mean?” she asked.

“Exactly.”

“So?”

“Not quite exactly, it takes two at least,” Greg added.

“I’m sorry, I’m just not getting anywhere with what you are saying or not saying,” she said.

“Why?”

“You are speaking in clips without context. How can I possibly put any flesh on it?” she asked.

“I could not have said it any better,” he responded.

“Said what?” Sarah asked.

“My thesis.”

“OK, I am truly lost,” she said.

“I’m not. There‘s the Pizza Nook,” Greg said with a big smile.

“Is our conversation going to get any better inside?” Sarah asked.

“Maybe.” Greg now realized she had no idea what he was saying. He considered a different approach as he parked the cart.

“Hope so.” Sarah now realized even though she had been late for the event, she should have paid more attention to what she had heard him say in conclusion and in answer to the questions. 

As they stepped into the courtyard of the Pizza Nook, the author asked, “So, what is your preference?” 

“About what?” Sarah said.

“Which table would you prefer? We seem to have lots of choice,” Greg said.

“What about under the palm tree? A nice corner retreat.”

“Ah, intimate, are you going to seduce me there?” Greg asked, smiling.

“No, just want to try to understand what you are saying,” she replied and then thought, yeah, sure, get real, you are a generation older, not for me.

“Ah, I thought the price of a pizza, but I guess it is something more substantial you are after and that could be priceless,” he said.

“Whatever, do you want one to yourself or would you share and what kind would you prefer?” Sarah asked.

“Oh, sharing is fine, but no pineapple. I am not a fan for that on pizza.”

“Veg or meat?”

“Bit of both and mushrooms please.” Greg said.

“Ok I will tell them and be right back.” She then thought, checking the notes I took might help get me clued in a bit better. She felt she needed some context, some examples, reference points. She realized their conversation was not going to be productive for her if she did not know where to start and where she wanted the conversation to go. She took more time than she should have trying to figure out what she wanted to get from the author. 

“Hi, I’m back. They were quick making up the pizza,” Sarah said.

“I think maybe you were too long or the pizza was frozen and just nuked. Remind me not to come here again. I was beginning to think you had stood me up. I did not get a drink for you because I did not know what you wanted and I started without you. Bonne appetite,” he said.

“Oh, this water will be fine,” replied Sarah.

“So, what were you doing in there, reading the book?” Greg quizzed.

“Well, if you must know, I was collecting my thoughts so my questions would lead to answers outlining the content of your book. I really have not got very far in understanding what you are saying. I am not even confused, I just haven’t registered on anything I can get my teeth into and yes if I had been at the beginning then we probably would not be having this pizza which is getting cold.”

“Not my fault,” Greg said.

“No, it isn’t your fault. Listen, all I want is to understand what you are saying in this book and learn a bit about you so I can write the piece for my editor,” Sarah explained.

“Have you read the book?” Greg asked.

“Nooo, and that is why I need to ask you some questions.”

“Are you going to read the book?”

“I suppose it will depend on how interesting you make it sound with your informative answers. With a good summary now I should be able to write something.” 

“So read the jacket cover summary. I wrote it myself. Now, are you really interested in what I am saying or is this just another piece for your paper and having done it you move on to the next piece and the next and so it goes without any real sense of association with what you are reporting on? If you don’t care how do you expect the reader to identify with the story or issue or whatever it is you are writing about, let alone care about it? Speaking of merry ways, the hot pizza was hot, but now I must be on my merry way. I can’t see anything positive or of advantage for the message coming out of your lack of effort. So, thanks for dinner, but I must be off.”

Sarah had not expected the criticism. “I’ll read it!”

“Before or after you write the article?” asked Greg.

“Before.”

“All the more reason to get going so you can settle down and read the book. I will happily answer any questions after you have read it.”

“I’ll have to be up all night!” she said.

“Probably unless you are a very fast speed reader.”

“No.”

“And don’t forget your car,” Greg added.

“Oh shit. This is not going to work. I can’t get all this done.”

“Certainly you won’t if you don’t try.”

“It is too late to get a garage to open up my car.”

“Probably, where is your apartment? Is it walkable?” Greg asked.

“Not at this time-of-night,” Sarah replied.

“Well, my place is only a few minutes from here so you are welcome to sit up and read it there. Then in the morning you can ask me any questions you like. It would save time and then I could get you back to your car and you could be on your way to write it all up, a kind of exclusive. You would be able to add colour to the piece,” he suggested.

“I don’t have a tooth brush.”

“I think I have an extra one I keep for locked out reporters.”

“This has happened before?” Sarah asked.

“No, you’ll be the first to use it.”

“I don’t have a choice do I?”

“Probably not, unless you don’t care about writing the article or you just put something together from the jacket.”

“Ugh!”

“Lets go. I think you pay at the front. I’ll rev up the engine.”

“Are you this accommodating for all your interviews?”

“No, usually I just walk away. See you outside.” 

Oh, what a lovely night, such a difference in the sky when the moon is absent. Damn the street lights. 

“What are you looking at?” Sarah asked when she returned to the golf cart.

“A somewhat diminished night sky.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lights.”

“Oh, I am tired all of a sudden,” Sarah said.

“Well, I will see if I have something to prop your eyes open and keep your head engaged.”

“Thanks...Why are you doing this?”

“So we can get to my studio.”

“No no, I mean why are you setting aside your time for me so I can write this article?” she asked.

“Read the book and then I’ll answer your questions.”

“Ugh.” Sarah sat back to relax and muster some energy for the ordeal. She woke as the cart came to a stop.

“That was quick,” she said.

“You fell asleep.”

“Power nap.”

“Follow me. The stairs will wake you up. Third floor.”

“Mmmmm, nice entry,” Sarah commented as she took in the decor of the entry and stairwell finished with wood panelling to about three feet and walls above in a light apple green colour. Straight ahead she also saw a heavy looking wooden door with a stain glassed window transom and to the right of the door a tall potted tree with room to stretch up to the sky-light she saw at the top of the stairwell.

“Thanks. Step lively. No dawdling, you have work to do and I must catch up on beauty sleep.”

“You need it.” As they climbed the squared-up flight of stairs at each landing she noticed two large paintings one to be seen on the climb and the other on the decent. At the second floor level there was a similar door arrangement and again at level three with more modest sized plants to one side of the doors.

“Thanks. Here we are, home sweet home.” Greg said as he waved an arm.

“This is all yours? You are here by yourself?” she asked.

“Yup.”

“Writing must be lucrative.”

“Nope.”

“Then ...”

Greg cut her off. “No more questions about anything. I am going to get you set up for a long summers night and then I will bid you good night. Coffee?”

“Please, with a little milk.”

Sarah quickly scanned the apartment and was impressed. She observed there must be acres in here. Didn’t know these sorts of places existed. I need to broaden my housing horizons. Art and books galore. Nice wood.

“So you can sit where you want. I usually read in the alcove, but please yourself. There is a copy of the book. I may even sign it for you in the morning.”

“Big of you.”

“Always try to treat my house guests with respect and attention. I am off to bed. See you in the morning. Happy reading. The toilet and tooth brush are up the stairs in the middle door. Kitchen is through there. Good night.”

“Thanks.” Sarah said without realizing Greg had recognized an opportunity to have her help get his message spread more widely and to that end had previously approached her editor about the possibility of some coverage of his ideas.

With a little wave Greg then went to his office space just off his bedroom and in a private part of his warehouse apartment. Although tired he did want to begin to consider companion thoughts to his book on remoteness and Sarah had inadvertently triggered his mind into pondering in more detail a subject he had been superficially considering for some time.

Greg now sat in his swivel rocker office chair, turned on his small recorder and began to free-wheel on the subject of language.

Once Greg sunk his teeth into a subject he intended to write or lecture about, he began a series of recorded “asides”. In total they amounted to more than just a book outline, more than a poem and more like a short story. The full book would be written later. Greg was now about to start another set or sequence and sleep could wait despite the beauty issue.

The importance of language to existence has been under-appreciated. Indeed, without language as I am going to explain it, existence, the Universe and all therein contained, would not exist.

Sarah asked a good question concerning my thinking and writing about remoteness. The same question can apply to language and really I should have included much more on the subject in the book, but did not understand its significance until recently. Maybe I should have considered language earlier as cause and effect are ubiquitous constantly and globally and language is at the heart of it all. Our lack of understanding about and attention to language, its purpose, uses and capacities, is a fundamental shortfall at the core of human cognition and is having a detrimental impact simultaneously with ongoing design initiatives and responses. Too often human language is manipulated into rhetoric, remoteness ensues and the totality of the fundamental requirement of natural language is missed.

Before I can discuss language within a modern context it is essential to consider the back story of language and to do that I need to go back to the beginning. Unfortunately, the beginning of language is very far back indeed into a time and place and set of conditions where our knowledge is limited even though over the past 200 years great strides have been made improving our cache of knowledge. Significantly, the elements of the languages of existence then in large part continue to exist and therefore, continue to sustain the universe and us within it. So, there is a template of sorts, but still educated speculation about the extreme conditions and the following sequences of dispersion and formation are necessary if we are to eventually and properly understand what exactly has happened. This approach is sound if we have confidence in the veracity of what we know. Still there is a good deal of speculation and we are bound to make unprovable assumptions not to mention arriving at different beginning scenarios. A little further on I will make some of those assumptions about the origins of language, but first a clear defining statement  for language is necessary.

There was no vocabulary of words and concepts at the beginning of existence, no reasoning and thinking. There was an extreme set of as yet unknown conditions. We are learning more and more from our various scientific endeavours, but we remain in the dark, so to speak, of the exact conditions prevailing at the ‘big bang’ if indeed the big bang was the beginning. The key here is one of the thermodynamic laws, the one that says: energy can neither be created or destroyed just tweaked. In other words something had to precede the big bang or whatever it was, as it did not happen from nothing. Further, the something had to have a natural inclination to converge and to form bonds. This is the crucial part, languages priming for and achieving bonds. 

There seem to be a few criteria required for the Universe to exist in a very fundamental form and in the form it has attained: a variety of matter exists as exceedingly small particles; latent and potential energy is lodged in matter; gravity although weak is ubiquitous; vast volumes of exceedingly low friction; and the capacity in matter in the form of languages or mechanisms to facilitate matter bonding, growth, dispersal and renewal and diversity. 

We know the Universe has been successful just by looking up into a star-lit night sky or even more simply by pinching ourselves. It is all quite real and has been in existence for a very long time and out of necessity would pre-date a “big bang”.

My interest in all of this resides, at least initially, with the notion of Languages of Existence as therein lies the foundation of communications required for matter and eventually life to form and grow. By themselves, the other criteria of the Universe without the Languages of Existence would not have developed a Universe with the shape and functions we can observe. The combined capacities in matter to communicate and use languages has been critically important and these abilities, at least here on earth, have led to the birth of life wherein communication has been critical to its success. Looking beyond the formation of the Universe my interest then extends into the sequences that have occurred leading into the realm of communication in life and in particular humanity’s reliance upon communication sensitivity in everything we do.

Life has sensitivity and one way or another employs this sensitivity to sustain itself. The sensual structures employed by life enables, indeed requires communication to occur. So far I have spoken about languages without defining or setting out what I mean by the term. Time to be more specific.

Stone is bonded molecules, elements of existence, created in the presence of great forces of pressure and temperature and holds together because the bonds between molecules are strong. The greater the exerted forces it seems the greater the strength in the bonds. The actual form of the bonds constitutes the Languages of Existence.

Not all stone is the same. There is great variety depending on the forces and types of molecules involved. Forces bring molecules together and bonding languages keep them together. Great (volcanoes) and subtle (water erosion) forces also break bonds apart leaving molecules available for other bonding among attracted molecules in other situations. 

Life emerged from the solid, liquid and gaseous ’soup’ of molecules where the different sorts of molecules took on different roles all the time with communication ongoing. Molecules were bonding, talking to each other, exchanging information and providing support in various ways eventually performing different functions and then forming different types of cells and life. Bonding languages are one type of language. Messaging languages are another.

During the ensuing billions of years life has grown in variety and complexity with languages and communication as central planks in the occurrence. All life employs some arrangement of sensitivity to enable communication. Our senses receive information, are stimulated, and in turn send signals of information to our brains. Our brains process the information with additional micro activity among the messaging neurons. We then respond with internal and maybe external actions, depending on the circumstances. Many instances of language are employed and these micro messaging systems should not be discounted just because we may not fully understand them.

These micro-messaging systems tend to be electrical and chemical. As life grew in size and complexity additional ways of communicating were necessary. For humanity body and voice grew in importance and then graphic representations. Eventually humanity began to design language systems taking advantage of our various senses and dexterities. Written, spoken, mathematical and other languages were born a direct extrapolation from the base Languages of Existence.

Language and communication is not exclusive to humanity. All life has a capacity to communicate through sensory systems and by utilizing languages. Flowers have colours and scents to attract pollinators. Frogs ribbit messages in the cacophony of sound in a wetland. Bees dance a jig of meaning to the rest of the hive. A flock of grackles seem to change direction as a group on a dime. The examples are endless and all depend upon communication requiring language.

All communication with natural and designed languages involves an exchange of understandable signals. Languages and communication are two sides of the same coin. Eliminate one side and the other side has no meaning, purpose or function. If language does not exist there is no ability to communicate. If there is no need to communicate then why have language? They are mutually dependent and herein lies the essential notion of the scale and variety of languages in the universe. 

Our language, the language I am thinking in and speaking is English, an incrementally designed language. It can be described as designed because it is conceptual, systematic and has been created by humanity. Each word or phrase is defined and the definition sets out a concept with commonly understood meaning. But, and this is important, a designed language is really only an extension of natural language or pre-conceptual language as has existed from the beginning of time. Clearly, other life forms have developed languages to varying degrees of sophistication. The sophisticated uniqueness of designed human languages lies in the fact they have shape or form outside our natural being.

To get a sense of the importance of language one has to ask:  What requires an ability to communicate? It does not take long as one prepares a list to realize everything needs to communicate, that is to use some kind of language. Doing the back extrapolation thing then, one realizes language and communication had to exist at the beginning, whatever form the beginning took whether a ‘big bang’, a series of them or maybe back into infinity. Without language and communication the Universe would not exist as it does today. In short, language as employed in communications is the glue of the universe. It is worth repeating, without language there is simply dispersal, entropy.

Enough, I am tired and this is a good start.

Greg had wanted to explore languages, natural and human designed, for some time. In an attempt to do just that he designed and prepared for a weekend of practical language and communication discovery with a dozen guests at his farm. They would have different backgrounds, interests and skill sets and in teams would be assigned tasks in a treasure hunt scenario. Greg wanted to learn how they would cope deprived of specific senses. He also hoped they would take away changed perspectives and in one way or another help to spread at least some of the ideas he was thinking about. He was also hoping to take advantage of an opportunity to involve a reporter from the local paper, someone to record the proceedings and engage in dialogue with the guests with a view toward writing some articles. Coincidentally, another volunteer would be arriving and with any luck, he thought she might be useful helping to make the weekend run more smoothly. 

Chapt. 2

Of course Sarah read the book because she had to and because there was nothing else to do other than explore the studio apartment and go to sleep, both which she did in turn.  Maybe it was the time of night, she was tired, or maybe it was just not a book she could get into. Those kind of books exist. She skimmed it leaving out lots and not really following all the arguments. So by the finish she was disappointed in it and the message it delivered. It just did not resonate with her, but she was also half asleep.

Standing and stretching she headed for the kitchen noticing the early dawn light beginning to grow in the skylights. Not her first all-nighter by any means, just the first since undergrad days oh so long ago in more ways than one.

Now she was hungry, just a snack, something to nibble was all that was needed. A cookie jar would be perfect. She had found nothing in the fridge earlier when the hunger pangs had started. Maybe a more thorough search would turn something up, but after looking around in earnest she decided this guy did not have cookie jars let alone very much else. The kitchen was surprisingly sparsely provisioned. Cupboards were non-existent and the fridge only had a few things in it, none of which was particularly appetizing. 

She settled for a swig of milk and started back toward the nook where she had been reading, thinking the big sofa and blanket would do just fine. She left the kitchen area and briefly turned her attention toward the rest of the apartment space. As she walked her eyes wandered around and she began to realize this studio was different, a curious amalgam of styles and furnishings. In particular her attention was drawn toward the six pillars located through the middle of the apartment running from one end of the apartment to the other. Each pillar was surrounded by full book shelves in spiral configurations, a bit like spiral stairs she thought or maybe DNA. Overall it exuded warmth and cozy with all the wood, pillows, artwork and warm colours. 

Even though it was summer she thought she could almost feel warmth coming from the big Scandinavian type masonry fireplace with, yes it was a shower just beside it. She thought, showers were suppose to be in bathrooms? Maybe, she concluded he is doing some renovations. 

She then glanced up to the balcony, a loft space with doors off it, probably to bedrooms she guessed and the washroom pointed out by her host. The balcony was accessed by a wonderful curving wooden staircase with a double balustrade turning a hundred and eighty degrees from bottom to top. 

The nook, back to where she was headed, was partially under the balcony and almost opposite to the doorway through which they had entered hours ago. The nook was nestled into a corner with the interior edge defined by plants, comfy chairs and a sideboard actually facing toward a very heavy looking trestle table located along a wall just outside the kitchen area.

From the nook she scanned left away from the entry to the kitchen noticed an open fireplace defined by what looked like carved sides and a very robust mantle. Two small sofas facing each other were positioned in front of the fireplace at right angles to it. There was a door in the end wall through which the author had disappeared and to the left of it in the opposite corner to the nook she thought there was a piano under cover.

Having glanced at everything in view, all she could now think about was cuddling into the sofa under the blanket. Tired did not seem to be the right word to describe how she felt. A sort of numbness had welled up within her. She just wanted to be horizontal and relax her back. Grabbing a cushion she eased down into the sofa, pulled a blanket up and fell asleep. The next thing she sensed was the smell of coffee.

She was comfortable and cozy warm. The sofa had wrapped around her and she did not want to leave it by waking up. Yet the coffee was enticing and now also other odours she guessed coming from the kitchen. She resisted, but finally rolled over and opened an eye to see a steaming cup on a little side table by the sofa. The temptation was too much. With the blanket still wrapped around her she swung her legs out over the edge of the sofa and rocked to a sitting position, lifted up the hot mug of coffee, cradled its warmth and took a sip. Wonderful, not just wonderful, she thought, this is really good. Where does he get this fix from?

Sitting there for a few moments thinking she should be in front of a bonfire, her senses gradually started to come fully to life. Coffee for her always seemed to work wonders taking her from the stupor of half sleep into the world of the living. As consciousness took hold she again started to look around taking in the variety and character of the studio. All this for one person seemed very excessive. As a more or less open concept she could see toward the corners of the studio and began to appreciate the way it had been organized into areas and yet she could also see how the transitions were fluid, one area merging into another with apparent ease. She wanted to walk through the spaces to see if what she thought she saw would feel that way in experience. 

He had been watching her wake up so he could time the breakfast right. He had noticed she was taking in the studio, looking around with a curious eye, like others who had stayed, but Sarah had a critical eye he thought. 

“So, you are back in the land of the living?” he asked from the kitchen as a sort of unseen anonymous voice.

“Thanks for the coffee.”

“There is more on the stove and some breakfast if you are so inclined. Didn’t know what you normally have so I made pancakes.”

“Ooooo, that sounds good. Normally don’t get such service in my small apartment.”

“Come and get it then and we can sit out in the courtyard. It is a beautiful morning.”

Courtyard, what courtyard? We are on the third floor she remembered and she had not seen anything suggesting a courtyard let alone an outside  balcony. Maybe, she thought, that is what he means. She got up and walked toward the big Scandinavian stove and the kitchen beyond. 

Four surprises in succession awaited her. As she approached the masonry stove once again she felt warmth emanating from it and then noticed both the shower was wet and the stove opened into the kitchen and there was food on what she thought must be a cooking surface. It was not the kitchen she remembered from last night. This one was well appointed, an open concept so everything was visible at a glance. No doors, well organized it appeared and from what she could see, it would be a pleasure to work in. 

“So, where did the other kitchen go to?” she asked.

“Oh, a bit of abracadabra. It just appears. I’ll show you one day when you visit again.”

“What makes you think I’ll come back or is that an invitation?”

“We’ll see, but I think you have not finished exploring yet and you won’t have time to do anymore today as we have work to do and you have an article to write.”

“Ah, yes, you do know how to shatter a sense of comfort. Work, Ugh!”

“Here’s your plate. It’ll stay warm on the stove if you want the toilet first. I’ll be in the courtyard that-a-way,” he pointed and starting walking with his own plate of pancakes. 

“There are more toppings outside for your pancakes,” he added.

A couple of minutes later she returned to the kitchen area, picked up the plate of two perfectly done fluffy pancakes along with her coffee and proceeded to surprise four. From the kitchen she followed the direction the author had gone in hoping access to the ‘courtyard’ would be clear. She turned into a short arched passageway not visible from the rest of the studio, passed through it and entered or exited into a real outdoor courtyard. Walled on three sides with a huge bush on the fourth and the sun pouring in. It was about 10m x 15m, but not squared up she thought, more irregular at the corners. She looked around finding Gregory at one corner sheltered somewhat from the sun by the large bush. As she walked toward him she started to see out beyond the courtyard and bush and realized they indeed were at the third floor level. It was then she realized the bush was a tree, the canopy of a tree, what kind she did not know. She sat and looked out to the rest of the courtyard taking it all in until Gregory suggested she eat up before the pancakes turned cold. Butter, bacon bits, jams and maple syrup awaited her decision.

He allowed her to put fixings on the pancakes and have a few mouthfuls. 

He then asked, “Well, did you finish the book?”

She swallowed, took a drink, tried to collect her thoughts and nodded in the affirmative.

She said nothing so he asked, “What did you think? Do you have any questions? Do you agree or not? Do you have any conclusions?”

“About what?”

“Aaaaah, the book? Or anything else your mind has considered.”

“These pancakes are good and the coffee,” she remarked.

“Well, that is a start,” he replied encouragingly and after a wee pause, asked “Is there anything you want to discuss to help you write your article?”

“No, well yes there is something I have been wondering about. Did you have a shower in the shower beside the stove this morning?”

“Yeeeees, it was lovely. I hope the noise did not wake you up.”

“No, I just thought it was there because you were renovating a shower room and I was a bit surprised to find out it worked.”

“That is where it lives. It does work and I have it hooked up to the stove for hot water. You can have a go with it if you like, the water should be hot again.”

“Ah, no thank you, but thanks for offering. Maybe another time.”

“Maybe. And now I have to get on as lots to do today and another book session tonight in another library. And we have to get you to your car to get it open so you can go on your way and do some writing.”

Just then she heard some noise and voices from the other side of the courtyard. She looked up to see two men, one older and one younger, come into the courtyard from where she knew not. 

They moved out of their corner and approached saying, “How’s it going Greg?”

“Ah, the prodigal workers have returned. I was beginning to think you had abandoned the cause.”

From the older man, “No, just busy trying to catch up with other jobs so we could devote ourselves entirely to your whims.”

“How wonderful and how long do you think you can show such devotion?” Greg asked.

“Well, we seem to be clear now for a week or two and then things might get a bit crowded again, but maybe if we work twenty-four hours a day we can keep up with your schedule, maybe finish.”

“Sounds fine to me as long as we don’t end up with too many wonky measurements. It would be good to have something with straight lines and square corners. You’ll see I have advanced your work a smidgeon in your extended absence. It is not quite as you left it those oh so many days ago.”

“Ah, well, hope we don’t have to take it apart and start again from where we left off. Then again we could just call it Greg’s work zone. We’ll see.”

“I have some things to do just now, but maybe later on this afternoon I could give you a couple of hours interning.”

“Suit yourself although the whole gang is here, so might not be enough room for you.”

“OK, I’ll plan on doing something else. We have to get going just now. Oh, this is Sarah. Sarah, these two disreputable people are Doug and son Jeff. They are doing a little job for me that seems to have turned into a big job for them. We are off.”

“Pleasure Sarah. See you Greg.” 

Greg then said to Sarah, “Come on, lets go or the day will be gone before it has begun. Bring whatever you can carry and I will get the rest later.”

And in five minutes they were descending the stairs past an eclectic collection of hung paintings and photographs to what Sarah expected would be another ride in the golf cart.

“Nope, not that way. I have things to do requiring a little more horsepower. We have to take the pickup. It’s in here.  Hop in.”

“What a neat vehicle. What year is it?” she asked.

“1953 Chevy.”

“Where’d you find it?”

“I found this little marvel about 15 years ago. She was in a sorry state out behind a barn. Took a lot of TLC to fix her up to good health. I learned a lot doing it though and anything required for her now I can easily do. Fortunately parts are readily available if you know where to look.”

“This is comfortable. I love the colour. Never sat in a vehicle with a front bench seat. Must be great for cuddling up.”

“Yah, it’s not too bad. Maybe one day we can try it out.”

“Dream on,” she said.

“Oh, where is your sense of fun and discovery? You have to do these things to find out what they are all about. Relive what your parents did. Open up to new/old possibilities. Now, there is a garage around the corner and I am sure they can get into your car, but just for old times sake I think I’ll have a go at it.”

“Oh, is that a good idea? I don’t want you to break anything.” Sarah said.

“Should be OK. So lets go see if I still have the knack.” 

Greg drove directly back to Sarah’s car. As traffic was light and they did not have to pass through traffic lights, it took them little time to reach her car. 

Greg got out and from Sarah’s little yellow bomb or lemon maybe, he said, “Just give me a minute and if I can’t open her up we will go to the garage. Oh, looks like I don’t need a minute. There you go. All set and ready to roll with keys on the seat, just where you left them. Lucky the car is still here.”

“Why didn’t you do that last night?” she asked.

“Well, I thought you wanted to ask me questions and I thought it would be a good chance for you to read the book and fire away on the questions in the morning. I guess I was partly right. Anyway, if you do think of another heavy question let me know. I’ll be at the library on Hilton Ave. tonight if you want to pursue anything, but just now I really have to run, so see you again, maybe.”

Sarah suddenly realized she did want to see this author again. Once was not enough.

Thinking fast, she said, “Do you want to see the piece I write before submitting it or are you OK with just letting me get on with it?”

“Just send something to the email in the book or bring it tonight. See you.”

“Fine, bye.” 

As they parted and went their separate ways she thought email won’t do.

Greg drove away thinking the previous evening was not very successful. Not many people to hear his rant, although he figured if one person took to heart what he was saying it was worth it and he would probably never know if someone did take on what he was saying. The questions were acceptable, but not penetrating and they seemed to be asked by people who were skeptical. So slap my wrist, he thought, as it is the skeptical people who need to be convinced. Not a great deal of satisfaction talking to people who already believed his message, although the conversations were usually interesting. 

He then thought about the reporter. He felt she had a spark in her, but in the end and certainly the morning had shown she was only interested in writing a piece for her paper and getting on to the next story. More skepticism he concluded. All the more reason to try to reach her, convince her his message was important. A reporter who would follow him for a bit and write a periodic story would introduce his ideas to more people. He hoped she showed up at the library tonight although he really did not expect her to do so. He wasn’t even sure she read the book. Probably fell asleep after I left her and that was why she had no questions. Couldn’t even get to my presentation on time. He was not expecting a very good article and his plan to involve the press in his upcoming planned weekend seemed in jeopardy.

Now his mind turned to the days schedule: garden with more planting and some quality time on the tiller and hoe; pick up new volunteer; check the cows and their water; and get to the library on time. Late start but maybe he could catch up a bit by skipping a long lunch. Then he thought about the garden generally and came to a familiar conclusion, it was too much work and keeping him from the other projects. More help was needed, but whoever it was they needed to be reliable, someone who would just get on with the work required to be done. Maybe the volunteer would be all he was looking for, but he was not optimistic as they usually only stayed for a short while and then moved on. If he could just keep going with it all for a while longer then all the pieces he visioned would hopefully start to fall in place.

As he turned into the farm drive Greg was definitely in a better frame of mind than just a half-an-hour before. It always seemed to happen, the trip to the farm through a familiar countryside had a calming effect upon him. Slowly as he left town the landscape changed. Traffic, suburbs, malls, pavement, signage and the chaos of it all remained in town and was replaced by a rural calm of treed hedge rows, cedar rails, gravel roads, crops growing in fields, three deer this morning, and wonderful smells. The distance from town to the farm was just long enough for the transition to take effect upon him. As he drove toward the farm house he was eager to get on with the day, to feel like he was accomplishing something.

He particularly enjoyed the semi-isolation of the farm. It was rural for sure, but also off the beaten trail. Not many came past as the road did not go anywhere in particular. It really just connected two roads, but gave no advantage in either direction, so not many people travelled along it. And the trees lining the roadsides were just so amazing, their cathedral canopies and heavy foliage allowing dappled sunshine to penetrate, but shading out the heat of the day. It was the heat though Greg now wanted. He wanted to feel the sun on his back for a while. He wanted to get his hands dirty and feel the satisfaction of having worked his butt off for a while.

First, though he had to go see the cows and then check on what he needed for the house renovation, the ongoing never ending house renovation. If only he could find more time to work on it he felt faster progress would be made and he would feel much better with the accomplishment. He then remembered his contractor and briefly pondered the notion of bringing them in to finish what he had started years ago. If he was going to sell, finishing sooner rather than later would be best.

Quickly he got his boots on and headed for the pasture checking the electric fencer unit as he passed the storage shed that doubled as a workshop . He had thought a small vehicle for this little chore might be good but then he knew he would miss the walk and checking on the changes alongside the path and the view the wonderful view of the valley he never tired gazing upon, at any time of day. In the morning there quite often was mist rising off the creek as it meandered through the valley. If he caught it early enough he would see the mist start to rise with the warmth of the early sun. It would grow enveloping fields, trees, buildings and anything else in its path turning the valley into a white misty lake. He thought the mist in full spate would be something like what glaziers would have looked like those thousands of years ago. 

In the evenings, as one view from the farmhouse faced west, he could catch all the intriguing and beautiful sunsets. Sometimes from the drumlin he would get the impression the view looked out over a calm sea, slightly pinkish in colour with clouds appearing as islands. It was a sunset slight of hand in a way and every time the view occurred it was of course different with slightly altered colours and a whole new group of island clouds. At other times rainbows, even double rainbows would appear after a shower and of course the blueness of the sky with the contrasting shades of white to grey clouds. He was reminded of Joni Mitchel’s “Both Sides Now”. 

Upon reaching the pasture, he looked for signs of the cows. They had a routine for sure, but they did not always stick to the same schedule and where they would be at any given time was uncertain. So, it was a bit of hide and seek sometimes. There were only a few spaces out of immediate view though and it usually did not take long to figure out where they were. On this day he found them in the swale happily grazing before the afternoon sun brought down the heat. Then they would likely be found lying down along a hedgerow or in the small grove of maples out of the suns direct rays.

As he approached the two young calves raised their heads and displayed some degree of alarm, the youngest moving closer to her mother. A little conversation ensued between them and soon calm was restored and they continued to graze. 

Greg specifically had wanted to check on the pregnant cow he figured was due on the next full moon. At first he had scoffed at the idea of lunar pregnancies, but with experience the cows taught him to respect the idea as invariably calves were born just around a full moon. The lunar orbit had passed the quarter moon stage a few days previously and now Greg was getting in a bit of a midwife frame of mind. He could see the pregnant half Jersey was puffing up more under her tail and the udder was now a good size. They all looked quite content so Greg next confirmed the nose pump was working and reminded himself to look at the calendar for the exact date of the next full moon.

Next he headed to the neighbours to collect his dog. Normally he kept her with him, but when it was not possible he put her in the kennel he had built at the neighbours place. They were happy to feed the dog for a couple of days knowing Greg would pick her up soon. The arrangement was convenient for both as Greg would help them out from time to time, neighbours helping neighbours. 

Typically she knew he was coming well before they could see each other. Sometimes he thought the rate of tail wagging would break her apart. He had found her in a shelter abandoned by whoever had her before, a sad dog only really happy when with people, the more the better. He opened the kennel gate and was greeted with enthusiastic acrobatics and licking. She in turn got a great big hug from Greg. He then looked at the position of the sun, felt the day was moving too fast for all he had to do and they were off back toward the garden with Sally darting all over the place checking for any new odours and tracks.

The garden was located on a hummock ridge left in part by the glaciers and formed along its sides by streams flowing out of the drumlin ridge. The soil was sandy, but with manure and compost Greg had encouraged life back into the now visibly organic soil. He was very pleased with the results he now got and with the rotation of vegetable types he hoped to ensure a continued fertile garden. So far the results had paid off with the initial slogging he had done.

Greg now not only shed his boots, but also his clothes. He did not know what Sally thought of his preference for nude gardening as she never seemed to show any concern. She just lay down in the shade, content to be with Greg again, and let him get on with the work while she kept an ear open for any unsuspecting mice or on a very good day, a rabbit or maybe one of the muskrats.

An hour hoeing he thought, then tilling and if there is any time left over more hoeing. He hoped the new volunteer would work out and be happy to bust a gut tending to the garden chores. He would find out soon enough.

Now he felt the sun’s warmth on his back and soon he was well into the hoeing chore. As usual his efforts initially were fuelled by enthusiasm, but gradually his pace slowed into a steady rhythm  as he began to feel his back tire. The pace he settled on allowed him to weed for hours as he had on occasion when the weeds got ahead of him. This time he just wanted to get a little further weeding the onions even though they would soon be harvested.  To keep the weeds down now would make it a bit easier later and certainly for next year. 

He knew and had talked with others who were adamant about mulching to keep weeds down and keep moisture in the soil. Greg found though it was more work than it was worth. He always found the weeds eventually came through the mulch and then it was more difficult to get rid of them. He had also come to the conclusion, weeds were not so bad after all. As long as the vegetable crop had been protected initially and had established a good set of roots, the weeds did not seem to diminish the final result. In fact the weeds acted as moisture retaining mulch for some veggies and the deep rooters helped to raise moisture and nitrogen from deep in the soil. Some of his best onion crops were hardly visible for the amount of weeds. On the other hand weeds were a nuisance and the key to keeping them from taking over was to cut them out before their seeds had matured. Unfortunately he lamented, it was not always possible to get them cut down in time. He usually tried to strike a balance.

Potatoes, on the other hand, was one crop he mulched religiously. His method, however, was somewhat unusual and went against what was recommended in most of the gardening books he had read. He knew potatoes did not like newly manured ground, but he had also learned they did well, sometimes very well with added nutrients. So, he dug potatoes in at a two foot spacing in ridged rows about three feet apart, waited for them to show their leaders and then mulched with manure straight from the barnyard manure heap. He figured this method allowed for a slow release of nutrients into the soil to be available for the growing plants and tubers. The next chore, equally important as manure mulching, was to keep the potato beetle at bay. As soon as the first shoots appeared, Greg would check for the telltale signs of yellow eggs on the underside of the potato leaf. When found he would squash them. If he caught them early and got many of the adult beetles at the same time, he figured the first cycle would be seriously curtailed. He would soon know about any eggs he had missed as the tiny newly hatched beetles would show up as black dots. It was more of a chore to kill them once hatched, making it even more important to find the egg nests. If he was successful Greg knew the potato plants, once they had attained some size would be more healthy and better able to withstand beetle attack. So, nutrient mulching and his war on the beetle were both key to successful potato crops.  Using this method sometimes Greg dug up three pound potatoes, no matter what the weather had been for the year.

Once the routine of the chore had been established, Greg found his mind wandering in and around projects he had underway or he would focus on aspects of practical philosophy, the stuff he had written about and about which he gave talks and lectures. Upon reflection he was grateful the university did not demand too much of his time as he felt being pulled away from the farm and the other projects he was trying to get going would diminish his level of enthusiasm and satisfaction for return on effort exerted. He enjoyed all the things he was doing, felt good with the people with whom he came in contact, except for one or two in particular, and believed the message of his philosophy was critical and needed to be adopted by everyone if the worst of risks were to be avoided.

Humanity does not know everything about existence and the communication processes ongoing in matter and life. If we did creating life would in theory be doable. Nope, not going to happen any time soon. We can say however,  life and life within life acts in ways  suitable to surrounding conditions employing languages to communicate. 

Essentially and fundamentally matter and more so life through sensory processes are communication systems. Quite simply the existence of these natural mechanisms, however they are specifically formed and function, make diversity in matter and life possible. With the possibility in place the rest has been up to matter and life to establish and form within existing conditions. At play are three categories of existence we have named physics, chemistry and biology. The list of possible outcomes seems endless.

Now it is important to understand matter and life thrive from diversity. Indeed, in the right conditions life in particular will naturally seek to diversify to increase survival probability through adaptation to a wide variety of environments and to enhance life characteristics suitable to those environments. There is no guiding hand in all of this other than the rule of thumb which suggests life tries to do the best it can and when opportunities to improve survivability occur, life will take advantage of them. It does not always work. There have been a handful of periods of catastrophic die-off. However, life has survived. 

Also and on a constant basis there are subtle changes where environments and species’ mix combine to eliminate life in smaller amounts. Certainly today we are very much aware of the ‘species at risk’ and ‘invasive species’ concerns not to mention the profound influence of humanity. At one and the same time life is both robust with abilities allowing survival in extreme conditions and vulnerable due to an inability to achieve rapid adjustment.

It seems to me there are four aspects to the languages of existence: consumption; convergence with bonding; divergence from dissolution and incompatibility; and the transfer of information. All four are constantly active and in understanding evolution Darwin was truly significant in identifying evolutionary complexity.

Complexity is crucial in understanding what has transpired since the ‘big bang’. Indeed, ever increasing complexity has been the driving condition requiring ever more sophisticated ways of achieving consumption, convergence, divergence and transference. Matter and life have evolved and in a complementary and enabling way so have the languages of existence. Out of necessity they have kept pace with each other for as matter and life became more complex a need for more methods of communication arose.

All and I repeat all natural communication systems are based upon a stimulus– response process. Those systems have evolved to enhance survivability. Stimulus comes in and is received within the capability of the receiving sensory system and a suitable response is enacted within the capability limits and purposes of the responding entity. As it turns out, this stimulus – response system provides attachment to the environment. It is the conduit providing connections to food, energy, water, mates and a whole lot more.

Humanity is not unique in this respect. All life is connected and if one wants to see examples of how life is connected to surrounding environments, they are abundant. All one need do is look, be observant. The flower head of a sunflower follows the sun across the sky. Hops vines climb in a clockwise direction, again following the sun. In minus 20ºC weather during the winter months my cows will stand broadside to the sun soaking up every morsel of heat and vitamins available. In contrast during the heat of the summer they will seek out shade and cool conditions. An abrupt trauma and depending on the severity and other circumstantial conditions, the event could evoke flight or fight. Bang your shin on a sharp edge or hammer your finger and I don’t have to tell you your reaction or what you might say.

Life is an amalgamation of life within various collaborative systems and as such is more than it appears to be at first glance. To use a well known phrase, life is much more than just the sum of its parts.

Science has made progress toward discovering the parts and their functions, but there remains much still to be discovered. What I want to emphasize is the presence of languages in all these life parts, these life entities, languages for the purposes of consumption, convergence, divergence and transformation. 

We know there are trillions of microbial life forms residing on and in our bodies, especially in our guts. They all have language. Without language they could not do what they do, good or bad for us. All these languages are natural, that is they develop as required among life entities in their environments and are sustained in a state of mutual benefit for all . Only humanity designs languages to the degree done and to exist outside our being, something quite different from learning a language or adapting to complement.

I need to be clear about what I am saying so that what I am saying cannot be misunderstood or used in ways I never intended. I believe there are ‘Languages of Existence’ and I do not believe there is a ‘hand of god’. The hand of god scenario is an easier way of explaining what we do not know which is the full text of the ‘Languages of Existence’. However, as the latter expands the former contracts. The ‘hand of god’ is mythology, a created notion to explain the unknown and control while the ‘Languages of Existence’ hurt if you pinch them. For now it is enough to understand the ‘Languages of Existence’ in all their weird and wonderful forms are together the matter and life enabling communication system.

More specifically, over the weekend at his farm Greg wanted to put the guests into situations where collectively they would have to improvise and design effectively to succeed. The scenario he had created would not be solved easily. Throughout the hunt there would be situations of emotional concern, dilemma and requirements for adaptation. He seemed to be sitting on the edge of his chair in anticipation of how the weekend would unfold or maybe unravel.

Sometimes Greg was so mechanically into a routine and engrossed in his thoughts he would not hear someone approach, as they did now.

This time and not for the first time, it was the post lady. She got fairly close to Greg before he realized someone was there. 

“Hi there Greg. Saw your truck and figured you might be out here. Thought Sally might have something to say about me walking in like this. Guess she has just got used to me dropping by with your mail. Got a package for you today. It’s back in the van, but need you to sign for it.”

“Oh, thanks for coming around Fran. What’s in the package? Books probably, although I am waiting on a mill.”

“Don’t know, but it did come from the States if that is a help.”

“Ah, well it could be either. So, where do I sign, on your little electronic gismo?”

“Yup, just here will do fine. Thanks Greg. I’ll leave it on the veranda.”

“That would be perfect. Still got a lot to do here and don’t suppose I need to walk over to your van if you’re happy putting it on the chair on the deck. Maybe the chair under the roof, just in case it rains.”

“I’ll do that for you Greg, and don’t get too much sun there or you may melt,” she said over her shoulder as she headed back to the house and her van. 

“Oh Sally, you need to stay more awake and let me know when someone is coming. Not everyone is as understanding as Fran. Time to get the tiller out I guess,” and Sally resumed her afternoon nap.

Even though it was noisy and a heavy monster to maneuver, Greg enjoyed walking behind the tiller in freshly tilled ground. It was cool and he could feel the soil texture between his toes, a really lovely feeling. He had finally worked out a technique in using the tiller so by the time he finished a patch of ground there would be no footprints left. It was satisfying even though he knew when planting started footprints would be everywhere. At least for a little while the patch took on an air of TLC and invited planting to commence. Not today though, maybe start tomorrow or in a few days. 

When he had finished tilling his sense of time suggested he better get moving to go pick up the volunteer. 

“What was her name again? Have to look it up before I go.” he said to Sally. “Come on girl, time to get going. We have to go back into town to pick up our new help and then do the library thing. First, I need a quick clean up.”

Greg collected his clothes. He and Sally then made their way back to the house where Greg had a quick shower at the edge of the patio he was gradually completing. As he dried off he took a quick look at the package and realized it was books he wanted to look at in town. So, dressed again he and Sally reluctantly got in the truck and started the return journey back into town. By the time Greg had driven to the end of the road he was ready to pick up on the other part of his life, the one only a few hours ago he had quite happily exchanged for his farm time.

While he drove Greg went into reflective mode. 

An ability to communicate and bond with language in the right conditions enabled existence. If there is no understood and shared language then communication will not be possible and matter will not grow. Without communication, existence does not happen leaving a state of perpetual remoteness. But, communication through language happens and existence is ongoing. The particles grow in language bonds and as they do particular characteristics and abilities form. For humanity, the understanding of languages and bonding principles has opened  a very big door into the world of cognition and doing.

Existence is comprised of a variety of particles of matter and energy. However, without languages and an ability to communicate matter would not exist. There would be just a void of perpetual remoteness. In the right conditions these particles have a proclivity to join together according to a shared language of attraction and bonding. The particles grow in language bonds and as they do particular characteristics and abilities form.

Humanity has identified and created a way of describing these types of matter with the periodic table, our language for the identification of the elements of existence according to specific bonding principles and atomic weights. From foundation matter grows different sorts of molecules and as the complexity of molecules increases so the capability to act in different ways increases. The bonding and growth into molecules and then cells and beyond gives rise to everything life can see and touch, smell, taste and hear. 

As complexity increased and as life emerged it was important a coded mechanism be available to allow life in all its glorious and amazing forms to survive. Rather than start over every time risking demise, the earliest of life forms figured out how to reproduce and grow beyond  simple duplication. Exact copies were not what was needed for growth and improvement and eventually life established reproductive procedures where in the end there was some variation in the offspring. The variation created an opportunity for improvement and adaptation to changing circumstances. 

The strength in the reproductive  process involves the combination of  genetic material, the coded language of life, into variations on themes. Offspring are not exact duplications of parent life forms. From  the combination of genes variations on the parents occurred. 

Life had formed a set of coded languages particular to the life forms developing. Like forms with a common genetic language could reproduce and while there were common features among life forms at some stage in the development of life the forms had diverged far enough there was no chance of re-combining with foreign genes. Phylum / Species diversification based upon common language codes was the result. Life was off and running. 

I cannot now discuss the billions of years of subsequent development of different life forms. I will just say growth and variations on themes developed over billions of years all based upon language development and adjustment. The diversity of life, even with periodic setbacks, widened immensely. So, in my next aside I want to begin to consider the evolved ways life employs for communications, essentially through language and sensual perception.

Greg was becoming anxious about the weekend he had organized. Over the years on many occasions he had experienced uncertainty with his ideas and plans. He had learned though, if a good deal of thought, planning and preparation went into a project, more often than not it seemed to work out. The period just before a project was started was the worst as this was when the uncertainty and unknowns were ironically the most tangible. Now with just a couple of days before the weekend, he realized there was little he could do to change the outcome. He was really hoping, not praying though, the volunteer would be a positive asset.

He did not have a lot of time to spare and so went directly to the train station to find, Mellie was her name. Normally it was not difficult to identify the volunteer, as they came with big packs, their homes on their backs. It was no different this time. Mellie came toward him and inevitably he started to form a first impression. He was confident Mellie would work out just fine for the time she was going to stay and help. She carried herself well, and seemed to have a determined sort of appearance, although the heavy pack no doubt was requiring a forward lean. 

Greg assessed women by comparing them to his previous wife, Rose. She had been killed the previous year in a car accident, but the images of her stature, her presence, her beauty remained strong in Greg’s mind. He could not stop doing the comparative assessments. He considered Mellie in this way now, thought there were similarities with Rose, but then remembered this girl had just gotten off a train, coming from who knows where, travelling for hours if not days and was lugging the heavy pack. He would leave further assessment till later.

For her part, Mellie was also forming a first impression, initially concerning the place where she had just stepped down off the train. Once on solid ground she turned a 360, noticed there were no looming mountains, the horizon was distant and that the station seemed to be in an area of this town not unlike many others where track dominated, trees were scarce and housing was typically at the bottom of the scale, in need of repair and maybe consisting of a transient population. She really had no expectations for this place, had never been here and had not heard about it from anyone she had met. She hoped overall it would prove to be better than the station yards suggested.

Mellie was born and grew up in the East and probably would have stayed if her parents had not also been killed in a car accident. With their deaths for her the umbilical cord was severed. In retrospect she had thoroughly enjoyed her early years and the first series of jobs before returning to university, but once her parents were gone and with no siblings, she did not feel committed to her birth place. Indeed a transformation occurred whereby suddenly she wanted to travel and see the country and then maybe the world. 

It was during the final stages of completing her Masters in philosophy when her parents were killed. For her it truly was a very difficult time. Fortunately, her supervisor and the university recognized her situation and gave support wherever they could including allowing some extension of time to complete course requirements. Without their understanding she never would have finished. After graduation though, a big letdown occurred, she felt a break was needed and although she recognized her degree would provide few real employment opportunities, she thought maybe she could land something concerning her thesis subject, ethical conduct. Gradually though the travel bug had climbed to the top of her interests and with financial solvency from the life insurance policy, at least for a time, she set off across the country aiming for the West coast.

Setting off in her early thirties, her objective had been to travel slowly, to go off the beaten trail and to see some of the wonderful attractions dotting the landscape of Canada. As she moved from place to place she began to hear about different volunteering programmes, some more formal than others. She joined one of the more formal organizations thinking it would be safer, but had a bad experience right away where the host simply exploited free labour and pocketed the profits. She did not stay long, continued her travels and gradually started volunteering informally for people who had requested help. Strangely she found it more satisfactory because the hosts were genuinely in need of help and they knew how to express appreciation. Following her nose, taking in must sees, such as the Eastern Townships, Niagara, the North shore of Lake Superior, the Cypress Hills in the southern prairies, Banff and Jasper, and the Fraser Canyon she gradually made it to Vancouver and then Victoria where she worked in a pub/restaurant for over a year.

After hearing more stories about the country, places to go and people to see, she set off again, this time going north up the McKenzie. Maybe she was just lucky or did not display the wrong traits, in any case she had no problems on the journey and seeing the enormous landscape was sensational. Somewhere, someone, she could not remember where or who, thrust a book at her suggesting it was a must read especially in the vastness of the North. Although the author’s  arguments were not directly pertinent to her thesis, she immediately saw connections between what he was saying and what she had read and written about. In fact, she took from it the opposite notion concerning the implications suggested to her about the vast and remote north. Rather than feeling distant and out of touch with the northern landscape as she travelled through it she felt intimate connections to it. Maybe the scale imposed itself upon her. Maybe there was no escape from it and she was forced into absorbing it. Maybe it was the detail in the scale she could observe from afar. In any case the book inspired her, she kept it and continued to refer to it from time to time. 

After her northern travels including a work stint in Whitehorse, she started thinking, what next? She was physically and mentally tired from all the travel and suddenly had an urge to return home, to plant her feet. She started to plan her return trip, where she wanted to stop as a volunteer, began making arrangements in advance for the journey east and then saw it. She did not believe it at first, thought it must be a coincidence and someone with the same name, but when she researched the location of the author, his address matched the one posted. Immediately she was not sure what to do. Indeed, having read the book and re-read parts again and again, she had built an impression of this author and was not sure she wanted to or could confront him in the flesh. Confront was not the right word, but when someone lays their thinking out in a book for all to see and read, one bares one’s soul. The idea of meeting him, staying with him for a short while thrilled her, but it also gave her great anxiety. How could she, how would she cope with such a thoughtful and provocative person? In the end the opportunity to find out about him, his ideas and whether he walked the talk, was more important than any misgivings she felt. Then too, a question gradually entered her mind: Why had she been given the book?

Mellie returned to the South, turned left and headed east honouring her volunteering commitments as she progressed back across the country. Ultimately her goal, at least the one she told herself she had, was to return to her hometown and move back into her family house. She never sold it, had organized for a property management company to take care of it during her absence and indicated she would give a two month notice for her return date.  She intended to return home and start her life again in the place where she had grown up. Maybe more travel later, now she had stopped in the author’s town. She recognized him from the jacket cover picture and strode as best she could in his direction.

“Hi, you must be Mellie?” he asked in a light and enthusiastic tone. 

She nodded. 

“How was your trip?”

“Ok, thanks for picking me up,” she said.

“My pleasure and sorry for being a little late. Got caught up with garden chores. But then your train is a bit late so it has worked out with no waiting.”

“Are garden chores some of the things I’ll be doing?” she asked.

“Well, I hope so. Hope you brought your muscles because you’ll need them. Not all toil though. Hope we can have a bit of fun too.”

“Sounds fine. Which way do we go? This pack is heavy although one would think I might be use to it by now.”

“Just over there, the blue pickup with the woolly monster in the drivers seat.”

Greg relieved Mellie of her pack, put it in the back under a cover and they got in with Sally between them. Greg introduced them and they were off to the library explaining to Mellie as they went about the evening and about the accommodation arrangements. She did not have much to say as she was tired from the journey and really could not think of much to say so she nodded in reply and looked around at the town, this next stop on her journey across the country. She hoped it would be better than the last place.

Sarah was at the library when Greg drove into the parking lot. He noticed her standing against her car with arms folded and a kind of blank stare. She looked up and realized Greg had finally got there, this time he being late for the lecture. The difference was the lecture really could not start until he got there and he had warned the library staff he might not be on time.

Sarah approached as Greg got out. He said, “I was not expecting to see you here. Thought you might just email the draft.”

“Well, here I am and I am not sure why I didn’t just email it to you, but there you go. Anyway, here it is. See what you think. If you want any changes done let me know sometime tomorrow so I can meet the deadline.” 

“OK, I’ll look at it tonight and let you know what I think. Just now I am a little tardy and need to get on with the talk. Fancy catching the whole presentation? I am told it is riveting,” smiled Greg.

“No, I’ll just move on. Got some other things to do before crashing.”

“Fine. See you. Come on Mellie, we have some folks to entertain and provoke.”

After Greg had opened the door on her locked car, Sarah watched the blue pickup move away into traffic, turn a corner and disappear. She stood there for a few moments wondering what came next. What was she supposed to do now? Who was this Greg guy and what was he trying to say? She still was not sure. There was something else though and she just did not know what it was or why she felt the way she did. For sure just emailing her piece for the paper to Greg for his approval was not going to happen. Her instincts were starting to take hold. They were telling her to hand it to him. She needed to see him again. She thought another stay at his studio would be helpful, but she was not clear about why. Possibly it was the lost opportunity to ask questions. Maybe a reason would surface she thought. Now, as she returned to full consciousness, Sarah realized she had some more reading to do before she could write the story, and time was marching on. She turned back to her car, got in, took a deep breath, a couple in fact, started the car and drove back to her apartment for a shower and change of clothes before going into the office below her apartment.

Settling in to her cubicle, Sarah was thinking she could probably get enough from the notes she took, the cover, the introduction and conclusion for her story. She also wanted to include something about the author, something personal that would help explain what he had written. Again maybe the cover would have enough information on it for her purpose, but she also thought a personal touch from her overnight and morning experience might work. She would leave that part to the last, give it more time to gel and try to fit something in to make Greg more vital in the eyes of the reader, something more than just the cover story.

In the end she took all morning and some of the afternoon to read through the whole book again making notes as she progressed through it. This time after finishing she had a much clearer sense of what Greg was talking about. As she sat back with her sandalled feet and red toes on her desk, she tried to summarize the books message. She wanted to be able to put the message in her own words because it was then she felt most comfortable with understanding what Greg or anyone else for that matter, had written. She needed to paraphraShe made a few attempts, but could not get the full essence of the book’s message and so started to write her story beginning with Greg’s presentation the previous evening. 

Reviewing her notes, she incorporated general information about the venue, the number of people, their age range and some of the questions asked. She borrowed from Greg’s answers and from the concluding chapter of the book. She used a couple of his examples to try to make clear the message he presented. She included something about his life, where he had grown up, the influences on his thinking and his current position as Assoc. Prof. in Urban Design. 

As she wrote she became more and more intrigued by the person although she avoided writing about his studio or the vague references he had made about other projects because she did not have enough information. At the same time as she rejected those tidbits, she reflected it would be interesting to learn a lot more about this guy. At the moment, for her, he was an enigma and frankly, she told herself, she was curious and wanted to learn more about him. The book jacket had only enough information to wet her curiosity and the brief overnight stay in his digs added to the growing number of questions forming in her mind. She thought maybe there would be more pieces for the paper. Always have to think about using such stuff to advantage. Got a career to think about, she reflected. 

Finally, the finished draft was complete except for her paraphrased insertion. She new exactly where it would fit and so tried again to sum up what Greg was saying in a brief sentence. “Humanity faces many issues and both the causes and consequences along with the solutions lie in dealing with ubiquitous and debilitating remoteness.” Oh, she figured it would do for the moment and maybe with Greg seeing it, he may be able to sharpen up the content. 

Now Sarah realized she wanted to hand him the copy of the draft, stay for the presentation and see what would happen afterwards. She made a copy, found an envelope and headed for the door and her apartment for another shower and change of clothes. She reminded herself, one never knows what is around the next corner. 

This time she made sure she was punctual, but as it turned out the presentation was delayed because Greg was late. This delay gave her time to circulate among those who had turned out for his talk. A good opportunity to listen in on some conversations to hear what if anything people were saying about the book, the message and maybe Greg. 

It was a lovely evening and as little was gained by listening in on conversations she drifted back outside enjoying the slight breeze as it ruffled her light dress. Leaning against her car, she drifted into thoughts about the book, the man who had written it, his studio, her job, and her lack of solid friends in this town. She realized moving to a place by choice and not by birth can be a disadvantage as it is not always easy to work your way into set social patterns and friendships. Maybe she should think about returning home, but having been away for over seven years it would probably be like moving to a new place as people move on and change and nothing stays the same. No, for the moment she just needed to put more effort into easing into the local social scene and one way to do that would be through getting involved with a local group or two as a volunteer. 

Just then the blue pickup came into view. She started to walk to where Greg had parked and noticed the passenger who had just stepped out of the pickup, a thirty something attractive girl in tight jeans and halter top. She felt a sense of disappointment at the sight of her, asked herself why this interloper sat in her seat in Greg’s pickup, decided to ignore her and went directly to Greg with the envelope containing the draft story. 

All of a sudden staying for the talk seemed the wrong thing to do. She mumbled something about needing to have any suggestions for change to the article by tomorrow and that staying wasn’t possible as there were other things requiring her attention that evening. What a load of crap, she thought and now she did not feel changing her mind would look good and who was this girl anyway. 

Greg, with the girl in tow, headed off to the library entry and the talk he would give. She watched them as she made her way back to her car and could not see any familiarity between the two of them. She sat there for a few minutes, maybe twenty in all trying to think what to do now. Other than returning to her apartment and working on a couple of assignments for the paper, she came up empty. 

So, what would be wrong with changing her mind? If asked, she could just say a change of plans meant staying for the talk was an option. Rather than doing nothing and feeling miserable she figured the talk would be much more interesting. Who knows maybe this could be a beginning in her efforts to get a life. She headed for the door and for the second time, entered with Greg well into his presentation. She settled into a seat near the back and hoped he had not noticed her entry, but realized he could not have missed it. After the talk she decided to ask the librarian if they had any need for a volunteer.

Her mind drifted in and out of the presentation. Having worked through the book, twice, she felt some familiarity with what Greg was saying and so found other apparently random thoughts  coming into her mind. She could not concentrate on any one thing for very long and thought again as she had many times before, it would be good to have a small recorder of some sort for recording thoughts, ideas and ‘to do’ lists. One idea did begin to take shape and stayed with her. There was no need to set it down, she just had to try it out on Greg at the end of the evening. With no more questions for Greg everyone adjourned to coffee and cookies with more chat, book purchases and signings. At one point as Greg passed close by her, he referred to her change of mind and that he was pleased she had stayed and hopefully she wasn’t bored and he would chat with her afterward and could she entertain Mellie.

First, Sarah found the librarian and found out volunteers were most welcome. She gave  her name and phone number and was told he would get her in soon to familiarize her with the workings of the library and show her the kind of chores volunteers would do. 

Returning to the ongoing chatter she found Mellie, introduced herself and began to try to figure out whether she had some sort of relationship with Greg. Finding out she was a volunteer herself and that she had just arrived, Sarah had a wonderful sense of relief and was more determined to put her plan into action. 

She found out Mellie was from the East coast and that she had been working her way across the country staying at different locations as a volunteer. She was now headed back to the East coast returning  home to pick up her life hopefully setting off in a new direction based upon what she had learned from her travels, the volunteering and from the people she had met along the way. Returning to retail sales, early job experiences, was not what she intended to do.

Eventually there were no more questions for Greg. Everyone had gone except Mellie, Greg, the Librarian and herself. 

Greg approached her saying, “Well, what did you think about tonight’s event? A little more lively than last night I thought.”

“Oh, I agree.” she stammered and with a bit more control, “Yes, they seemed to be genuinely more interested in what you were saying.”

“So, your plans for the evening fell through did they?” he enquired.

“Yah, one of those last minute changes. So, thought I would catch some more of your talk. Maybe one time I’ll get in at the beginning.”

“Well, funny you should say that. I’ve organized another session at my studio in two nights  and for the weekend and am not sure just how I am going to fit everything in without some help. If you haven’t got anything else going, no heavy dates or anything exciting like that, then I would certainly welcome a bit of assistance in making the preparations and hosting. I know we hardly know each other, but if you want to brush elbows with a few academics and others and help me get out of a little bind, it would be great.”

“Ah, well, let me see,” she stammered again. “Sure, I think I could do that. What’s involved with the get together? In fact I was going to suggest something else and so it may all fit together, maybe, sort of.”

“Oh, what was your idea?” he asked.

“Well, I thought as you had promised to read the draft tonight and get back to me tomorrow with suggested changes, rather than emailing them you could just give me them in the morning if I stayed at your studio again tonight. It would save you time fiddling about with computers and emails. Then I could also start to help with preparations for the weekend and the chat.”

“I suppose. What do you think Mellie, can we have another lodger overnight?”

“It’s OK by me. It would give Sarah and I a chance to chat a bit more. I don’t really feel like we had a balanced conversation. She knows more about me than I know about her. It would be fun to hear a bit about her life so far.”

“It has not been very interesting I must admit and I doubt the telling will spice it up much.”

“Good then, coffee toast and scrambled eggs in the morning OK for you two? It’ll be an early start as there is lots to do tomorrow and now, just maybe, enough hands to do it.” 

Turning his attention to the Librarian, Greg thanked him for organizing the evening and hoped he was still coming for the weekend and the inevitable chat. The Librarian in turn commented he would be there, thanked Greg for the evening’s talk, commented he thought people had enjoyed, maybe even taken to heart what Greg had said and now needed his beauty sleep. He was casting them out of his library so he could go home and feed his cat, continue with the book he was reading and maybe have a hot milk.

Sarah wondered about this hot milk thing in the summer? Everyone to their own she concluded.

“OK, see you in two nights. Let’s go crew, still more to do tonight.”

In the parking lot Sarah told Greg she needed to go to her apartment for her tooth brush and to check on a couple of things and would then make her way to his studio. She figured to be there in an hour or so if that was OK with him. He thought that would be fine and it would give him time to get Mellie settled. So they parted in their separate vehicles with both Greg and Sarah thinking gains had been made, but for each the gains were quite different.

Sarah drove to her apartment quite mechanically without thinking about what she was doing. By the time she parked and realized she was at her apartment, a shiver ran through her body. Her mind was a complete blank as far as the drive was concerned, but here she was and in one piece. She must have driven without incident.

Before going up to her apartment she ducked into the paper to see if she had any messages. There were a few, but nothing needing urgent attention. They could all be handled tomorrow.

Up in her apartment she found the overnight bag and threw a few things in. This time she would be a little more prepared for the sleepover. She would return in the morning to finish the article and deal with messages. Feeling the cool of the evening she changed into jeans and a warmer loose fitting sweater top, grabbed her reporter’s pad, a pen, her bag and went back down to her car.

Unlike the drive to her apartment, Sarah was fully aware of driving to Greg’s place. She had to think a little about how to get there as it was not yet a familiar route. Maybe, she thought, it would become so. More important at that moment, Greg was in the forefront of her mind. She could not put her finger on the exact reason, but thought there was a lot more to this guy than what she already knew, which wasn’t much. Some information had been gained from first impressions, from the book jacket, from looking him up on the internet and from his profile at the university. It was superficial though as it really only gave information in generalities and there was a lot of repetition. Maybe, she thought, this is what you call a ‘reporter’s nose’. Her senses were tingling in anticipation, a feeling she had had infrequently, a little bit like Christmas morning. Over the next couple of days she anticipated learning more and yes maybe there were more articles to be written.

As Sarah approached Greg’s building she was struck by its unusual footprint and arrangement. Running through this part of town was an abrupt rise, about twenty feet high that at one point in the distant past had been a shoreline. Greg’s building had been constructed on the side of the rise. The lower section rose three stories ending at the same elevation as the one storey building built on top of the rise. The building footprint resembled an “L” shape, the long stem representing the three storey structure with the shorter section at right angles representing the part of the building located on top of the rise. Greg’s apartment was located on the third floor at the same level as the section on the rise. His apartment was not the same full width of the footprint of the rest of the building’s bottom two floors. The arrangement and sizing meant a portion of the second floor was roofed and this space Greg referred to as the “courtyard.”

Although he referred to the building as a warehouse, only a part of the building was used for that purpose. Sarah found out later, originally the total structure had been built for furniture manufacturing including milling facilities, the storage of lumber and finished pieces along with the retail outlet .

Greg maintained the bottom floor as workshop space, for storage and a portion of it was intended for brewing beer. The second floor, rarely used to date had been converted into accommodation including bedrooms, a kitchen and a large common area. His extensive apartment occupied the third level and included the courtyard. The section of the building on the rise was originally a furniture display and sales store he now intended she found out later, to be used as a pub/restaurant. The brickwork and original iron astrigaled windows had been maintained and rebuilt as necessary, resulting in the maintenance of the appearance of the original design.

The door into Greg’s stairwell was open. She entered and climbed the stairs listening for any suggestive noises. The door to the studio apartment was also open. She knocked and went in to be immediately greeted to her surprise by a woolly dog she had not expected or seen before. She stepped back a bit somewhat uncertain what to do or say. The dog eagerly went to her smelling her with tail wagging pushing her nose into Sarah’s hand.  

She decided this dog was no threat and so relaxed a bit just as Greg came by saying, “Oh, you two have met. Sarah this is Sally and Sally this is Sarah. You be nice to her now. She is a guest. Just wait a minute, I am getting some towels for you and Mellie. Your room is up the stairs near hers and I’ll show you where in a second.”

As she waited Sarah looked around and decided nothing had changed since her previous stay. From the entry she had a different perspective of the apartment and realized the layout resembled what she imagined a ship might look like with the bridge to her right up the curved staircase and the rest of the apartment spread out below and to her left. 

Greg returned and said, “Follow me.” 

Sally took the lead darting up the stairs to  the upper bedrooms, originally offices, where Mellie was sorting out her things in her room. Greg handed her a towel and went on to the corner room, Sarah’s for the night. It was perfectly adequate and because of its orientation had two windows, one looking outside and the other looking inside over the common space of the studio apartment. From there she could see just how spacious the apartment really was with its private nooks, common seating areas and dining area. She was quite impressed how it all seemed to visually fit together seamlessly. At a glance the bedroom seemed perfectly fine with hardwood flooring, a queen size bed, a place to stash her bag, a closet, and a big high backed cozy looking chair. It was fine, more than fine.

“Hope this will be OK for you tonight. Unfortunately, tomorrow evening I will have to kick you out as the guests will be staying over and there is not enough room for them as well as you. I’ll actually also have to shift Mellie out to the farm for the night. There will be some late night maneuverings I am guessing.”

“You have a farm?” Sarah asked. “I could take Mellie to my place when I leave. I have a spare cot, not quite as palatial as here, but for one night she should be comfortable enough. Save making a late night sortie into the countryside.” 

“I’ll think about your offer. Actually, I really enjoy waking up at the farm in the early morning, so it is not a real hardship for me to go out there and I can get back here early enough to start on the breakfast chores. It will depend on the lateness of the conversations and how exhausted I feel by then I suppose. Let’s play it by ear for now.”

“OK by me,” said Sarah.

“The toilet and bath are next door along. You know about the shower if you want to use it. If you need anything else just ask. I’ll be in the kitchen when you go down, if you go down.”

Greg left as Sarah opened her bag. A minute later Mellie knocked to come in. 

“So, I guess we are going to be shunted about for the next day or so?” Mellie asked as she entered. 

“I guess,” replied Sarah. “I offered to have you at my place tomorrow night after  dinner and chat has finished. Don’t know whether Greg will want to take you out to his farm or not, so  offered my place. If you are OK with it, could be more time for chat, just girls.”

“How do you know Greg?” Mellie asked.

“I don’t really. I am a reporter for the local community paper. My editor assigned me Greg’s presentation of his book the other night. First time we met and I stayed over to read it and ask any questions I had. I barely did either. That is the short version of the story.”

“That was fast,” Mellie commented.

“Not what you are thinking. I was up most of the night and got to sleep a bit on the sofa downstairs. We were quite rushed in the morning, so hardly had a chance to put my feet down before we were moving on. Other than the book and a few other bits of information I know zip about him, but I am intrigued for some reason. How about you, why are you here?”

“I have been in exploration and travel mode. Finished high school and worked at a few things for a couple of years. Didn’t really like any of the jobs, but also did a bit of volunteering and really enjoyed the people and was impressed by their willingness to help. I returned to schooling at university and went as far as a masters. Lost my parents, then thought it would be a great opportunity to see more of this country of ours and learn along the way. Don’t know where the experiences will take me in the end, but for now I feel privileged for being able to do it. Greg is listed as one of the host places in a volunteering network. He and his projects sounded interesting and here I am. Scheduled to go home after this little adventure.”

“Any catering experience? Do you know what we are in for over the weekend?” Sarah asked.

“One of my jobs was serving in an up market restaurant. Tips were OK, but I really did not like the clientele. Also, they had a strange arrangement for shifts. It just did not work out for me.”

“Yah, I had a waitressing job too for a while when I was going through university. It served to help me realize where my career, whatever that was going to be, was not going. I guess hospitality is not my thing. So maybe together we can get through this. Wonder how much Greg knows about these things?”

“I don’t know, but looking around here if all this is his work alone then I suspect he knows what he is doing unless he got someone in to design it all. I guess we will find out. So where are you from?” Mellie asked.

“Oh, I grew up in Toronto. I am here under protest as I would much prefer to be in a big paper where there is more big news. This job was available, so I took it. Still not sure if it was a good choice. I am a bit of a fish out of water at the moment, but it is early days so I’ll stick with it. I am learning lots for sure, but also keeping my eye on the job market. I’ll go as soon as I find something a little bit more in line with my goals. Just have to figure out my goals. How about you, where exactly are you from?”

“Out East from a little place no one has ever heard of. Moved in to Halifax after high school, worked around there for a while, went to university and after my parents were killed, I hit the road.  Gradually I moved to the West coast because it seemed everyone was doing it and the opportunities were supposed to be out there. Well, I just did not feel like I was fitting in. This volunteer opportunity was attractive for me because it was going to take me back to my rural roots. I have missed the familiar countryside of my youth for a few years, so when I look at the host places I select ones that sound like they are rural based. I have had a schedule taking me across the country.  This is just one stop, the last actually, along the way to home.”

“I envy your travelling about. Have the places you have been in so far been good?” Sarah asked.

“Bit of a mix, but what has been fun has been meeting people from around the world. I don’t feel so alone as there seem to be lots like me out searching for what they want to do with their lives. I am in good company as, for most of them, they have been fun to meet and work with and learn about where they have come from. Maybe when I reach the home territory I’ll just keep going.”

“Mmmmm, what do you think, should we make an appearance downstairs?” asked Sarah. 

At the question she noticed Sally, who had curled up just outside her bedroom door, lift her head and look at her with a bit of tail wagging. Just coincidence, she thought.

“Sure, lets go down. I could actually go a bit of food. Those cookies at the library didn’t do much for me I am afraid,” Mellie said.

Sarah eased out of the chair as Mellie rose from the edge of the bed and Sally sprang to life. They all headed down to see what Greg was up to. After some searching, it was Sally who found him outside in the courtyard. The girls followed her lead and joined Greg on a warm starry night in the out-of-doors. Greg seemed to be intent on a book he was reading which he put down when they approached.

“So, are you both settled in? Is there anything I can get you? Do you want something to eat, to drink? I’ll show you how the kitchen works in the morning, but if you want something just now I think there may be some left-overs or bread or something. We can start fresh in the morning.”

“Well, I could go a bit of food,” repeated Mellie.

“Fine, let’s go see what there is for you two.”

They headed back to the kitchen area with Sally enthusiastically in the lead and Sarah in the rear looking around the courtyard a bit more trying to see things that could tell her a bit more about Greg. As she came through the archway Greg was asking Mellie if pizza would be OK.

“Oh that would be fine.”

“Me too ... if there is enough.” Sarah chirped in a little girls voice.

Greg immediately responded by asking, “Would the two young ladies  also care for a hot milk with honey?”

Sarah continued the role playing with a, “Please, please, please,” almost adding daddy, but refraining at the last.

Mellie by then had taken a couple of bites of the pizza and declared, “This is good. Where did you get it from? Pizza places don’t make it this way where I come from.”

“Well, actually I make my own pizza. It’s not that difficult. I make the dough for the base when I make bread. Then it is just a matter of putting on the base whatever you fancy and getting it into a hot oven. Quite straight forward really.”

“So, you make bread too?” Mellie continued.

“Yup and we are going to do some for tomorrow evening. You can make it tomorrow if you want. Too late to start now, although if you were in a bakery they would be starting in a couple of hours for the day’s fresh bread. I think we will do a white baguette style and then make up some garlic butter. Should be strong enough to make the guests sit up and take notice.”

Sarah had also sampled the pizza and quietly concurred with Mellie, the pizza was very good, very good indeed. She could not then help herself from going to the question dominating her mind, who is this Greg guy? She then remembered a phrase from his book: “Hands on is good.”

“While you two were getting acquainted, I read your article Sarah and I am happy for it to be printed as you wrote it. However, there is one sentence near the end I would change or drop completely. It summarizes or tries to summarize the essence of the book’s thesis, but falls short. Really, I think the issues I have written about cannot be summarized in one brief sentence as they are too complex. So, I will leave it up to you. It can stay or go. It is not wrong just too simplified and I don’t want people to think the issues can be dealt with so briefly.”

“Ah, well then it will have to go. It was my attempt to put your ideas in my words. I knew it was not quite right and I guess it confirms I am still grappling with what you are saying. If I cannot summarize maybe I just don’t get it, yet. Anyway if you are happy with it otherwise, then it can stay as it is, but without the sentence.”

“Here’s your hot milk. Enjoy. I’m off to bed. When you two go just get the lights will ya. Sleep well, see you in the morning, early.”

I ended the previous thinking by saying life has developed great diversity in a variety of ways and suggested language is central, indeed essential to the development.

Some believe humanity is the only real communicator. They could not be more wrong as indeed it is quite the reverse. All life communicates through language forms we continue to discover and because life forms come from the same evolving sources there are bound to be traits common for all life. Emotional response, a strong mental or instinctive feeling, (CDN Oxford Dict.) would seem to be one of the more important traits harboured by life. 

Another and essential for communication is sensory perception. In effect, sensory mechanisms in combination with brains are faculties of communication.  Some of the more obvious duties performed by our senses include:  time and space orientation; observation of environmental conditions; danger awareness; food identification; potential reproductive partners; communication within and among species; and so on. These are hugely important for our survival and generally for the survival of all life.  Wrapped up in all of that is of course emotion. One only needs to witness a calf being taken from a mother to realize cows communicate and are emotional.

All life employs some form of sensory perception enabling interaction with surrounding environments, including one’s own kind. In effect senses along with brains are language receptors, processors and senders, the communicators. Consider these senses within your own experience to begin to understand just how important they are in our ability to navigate through changing environmental conditions and exchanges. Without them we would be lost. Without them we cannot take in information to turn into gained knowledge. It is why experiential learning is so critical. We experience through our senses. The experience is lodged in memory as knowledge we can retrieve through internal communication to be used in other situations.

Our bodies, as with all life forms, although to varying degrees, are sensual organisms. These senses are the tools of language use and communications. In fact life forms are highly sensitive entities using senses to discern conditions and change. Through our senses we see, hear, feel, taste and smell so we can perform tasks required for survival such as discovery, finding nourishment and reproduction. With our senses we use the languages of sensitivity gained from growth and experience, the natural learning process. 

Humanity has added another level of language, the created or designed set of languages effectively stretching and extending our sensual and communicative abilities and capacities. These designed languages do not stand alone, but in fact complement and extend our abilities to understand sensory perceptions. With designed language we have learned how to name and conceptualize.

In part because we are constantly receiving stimuli and because we begin to take conditions for granted, provided there are no changes, we tend to ignore much of what we perceive. Take away a sense, however, and immediately we recognize a loss of perceptive ability. Maybe the most obvious loss would be with vision. A Joni Mitchel lyric comes to mind: “Don’t it always seem to go, You don’t know what you got, Till it is gone, They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.” Or experience a changed set of environmental or social conditions and listen to the red flags flapping in your mind. 

The weekend Greg had organized, he hoped, spoke directly to the importance of and the loss of sensory perception. The guests had no idea how they were to be tested, although in his explanations to them he mentioned sensory perception was something they would be considering. Just before falling asleep he could not help but smile in anticipation. The anxious feelings felt over the past few days had all but disappeared, coincidentally with the arrival of the volunteer and the willingness of the reporter to be involved. He was thinking as sleep arrived, the weekend might just work.

Chapter 3

They all slept well, even Sally who curled up outside Sarah’s open door. Sarah awoke with light pouring in the outside window. It took her a few minutes to register she was awake and to think about checking the time. As she lay there unfamiliar noises drifted into her room from below. She thought Greg must be up and moving about getting the day going. It was warm she felt and so shifted her legs out from under the duvet. She liked to give her toes the first air of the morning. It was her way of waking slowly bit by bit. In a few more minutes her curiosity started to kick in, so she sat up and then slipped off the bed stretching as she rose to full height. Sally, she saw, raised her head and then suddenly got up and disappeared from view, presumably going down to greet Greg. 

Sarah went to the window to look outside to see what kind of day it was going to be, at least for the next few hours. There were no clouds in her view and the town seemed to be waking and starting to move just as she was. A little breeze she now recognized was rustling the tops of the trees visible from her window. Turning back into her room she drifted over to the inside window to see what if anything was happening below. She approached the window gaining full view of the studio below and then jumped back immediately not wanting to be seen in the window looking down. 

Greg had just emerged from the shower and was towelling himself dry. She edged over to the side of the window this time to have another look. He was still drying off with his back toward the balcony apparently oblivious of her gaze. He finished, grabbed a pair of shorts and immediately walked around the column, into the kitchen and out of view.  

In another moment she was startled out of her wits as a great bell like noise reverberated around the apartment. She left the window and went on to the balcony getting there just before Mellie emerged from her room. They both looked at each other with questioning gestures when Greg from below called up, “Breakfast is ready.” 

Mellie called down saying she would be there in a few minutes and turned in front of  Sarah going to the washroom and toilet. Sarah, on the other hand went downstairs, as she was, curious to know what he had prepared for them. 

Sally greeted her at the bottom of the stairs and the pair went towards the kitchen and Greg’s breakfast preparations. As Sarah turned into the kitchen the first thing she saw was a triangle hanging off a column. Why had she not seen it before? One of those farm triangles used to call people to meals. On a farm it would be useful over a wide area. In the studio it was deafening and very effective. Sarah continued to feel some tingling sensation from the clanging of five minutes ago.

Greg was not in the kitchen so Sarah made her way through the arch to see if he was in the courtyard and yes he sat at the same table as before eating breakfast. 

“Good morning, I hope your sleep was better last night in a bed rather than the couch.”

“Oh yes it was fine although the triangle certainly woke me up in a hurry,” she said as she walked barefoot over to the table and chairs not having yet changed into street clothes. 

Out of habit Sarah avoided getting dressed until the last moment before leaving her apartment. She had not thought any differently this morning and remained disheveled in her brief night attire. Greg remained dressed only in a pair of striped shorts, the ones he had grabbed after his shower. He also seemed a bit preoccupied. 

Sarah asked, “What’s up and what are we doing today? First thing I have to look after my paper responsibilities. It should not take too long and after that I can help with whatever you need doing.”

“OK, that sounds fair. I think we should wait for Mellie though before we get into too many details. I want to say something to both of you that you and Mellie may not feel comfortable with. When she gets here for breakfast I will say what I need to say and then you can decide what to do. Do you want coffee or tea?”

“Sounds mysterious. Coffee please.”

As Greg was pouring Mellie exited the archway dressed in short shorts that could not be any shorter, a string strap ‘T’ shirt, obviously part of her summer wardrobe, with for the first time since arriving her long black curls cascading to her shoulders.  Greg thought she carried the style very well indeed. 

“Good morning.” he chirped. “Coffee or tea? Have  a seat. Did the triangle startle you also?”

“OOOh yah, wasn’t expecting such a noise first thing,” she said as she sat between Greg and Sarah. “Still tingling a bit.”

“Well, dig in, get yourselves something to eat and I’ll be back in a moment.” Greg rose and went back into the studio to retrieve a couple of items pertinent to his plans for the weekend. 

Sarah said to Mellie, “Greg has something to say to us as he thinks we might not want to be here because of it. Sounds mysterious to me. I am intrigued.”

“No explanations, just something we may not want to be involved with?”

“That is what he said.”

As Sarah was speaking Greg returned and said to her, “This should not take too long and then you can get off to work on your paper stuff.”

“I am not in that much of a rush and it is still early, so maybe in an hour I will have to leave.”

“Good. What I am going to say should not take that long. In fact, I’ll start at the end or what I hope might be the end and if you do not want to be part of it, that will be perfectly fine. Then I’ll go back a bit and explain my thinking and plans in more detail.”

“Sounds fair,” replied Sarah while Mellie was tucking into some fruit salad with cream on it.

“So, at times over the weekend I expect all fifteen guests  will be nude or semi-nude from time to time. It would include us three if you two want to be involved. So, if social nudity is not your thing, if you would not be comfortable with such an event, that is perfectly OK. I had not planned on you two being here as my preparations have been going on now for some weeks and we have only just met. So, the weekend will go on with or without you, but your involvement would definitely add to and be a great help for the event and discussions. I also want to let you know I do not wear clothes, here, but especially at the farm and in the garden, depending on the circumstances of course.” 

Mellie spoke first as Sarah tried to collect her thoughts. She had never been involved in ‘social nudity’ and her first reaction was surprise at the suggestion followed close by a sense of looming discomfort. 

Mellie said, “I am not sure, but I want to hear more before agreeing to be involved. I have participated in ‘social nudity’ events and our family was quite relaxed about what was or was not worn around the house. To me it is no big deal, but the circumstances need to be right.”

Having collected her thoughts a bit Sarah said, “Well, my background is a bit different from yours Mellie and nudity never mind ‘social nudity’ has not been part of my life, despite what you may think with what I am currently wearing, which I confess is not much. So, my first reaction is to say no, I do not want to be involved, but I am curious about your plans and so yes I would like to hear more. I doubt I’ll agree to participate.”

“Well, can’t ask for more than that just now. If I don’t have your agreement to participate at least I have your ears for a few minutes. So, let me explain my plans  and the reasons behind them. By the way if you have a question at any time just fire away.”

Before Greg could start Sarah asked, “Is this coming from your book or at least the ideas in your book. I remember a few times nudity was referred to, but I must confess I skimmed over those parts.”

“Yes, this is all part of my ‘thesis’ if you like. Mellie you do not have the advantage of having read my book, so you will be a few steps behind to start anyway.”

“Actually, I have read the book. I thought it was great and that you make some extremely important points that we should all consider, whether in the end the ideas are accepted or rejected they need to be thought about and discussed. It was entirely coincidental I decided to volunteer with you as I had made the decision  to do so and only afterward realized you were the author of the book I had enjoyed reading.”

Greg was very surprised at Mellie’s confession. As she spoke Greg looked at her over the top of his glasses. When she had finished he said, “Ah, well well, that will make my explanations easier. Even still I will go over what I am thinking so you can decide to be involved or not.”

Briefly, as briefly as he could do it, Greg explained about his theory on remoteness in societies and his thinking that remoteness had lead to all sorts of issues causing very real problems and creating a multitude of unwanted consequences. He explained, one of the reasons for writing the book was to make people more aware of the current situation and to encourage them to do something to regain proximity in human affairs across the board of various human activities. 

He briefly explained about ‘buffers’ suggesting there were many causes for remoteness including distance, physical barriers, social, economic and political circumstances, technologies and so on. He thought people were being bombarded with or being faced with so many ‘buffers’ they could no longer identify them as they had become the norm. Some ‘buffers’ were blatant, right in your face and some were totally subtle maybe working at the subconscious level. The combination of ‘buffer induced remoteness’ he felt was the single most important issue facing humanity, because it was from that state all other issues arose and prevailed. He did not think remoteness could be eliminated, but he did believe it could be reduced and certainly could be identified in a more open way so people would better understand what was happening around them and do something about it. He pointed out information is critical, it always has been and always will be and then suggested anything we can do to make information more available would be good. 

Greg continued. “So, I have struggled to figure out a good way of illustrating my thesis, getting it out to people. Of course I have written the book and I give talks, but I wanted to do more to recruit supporters to my thesis. I wanted to involve people of influence in my quest to regain proximity, to recognize the existence of buffers and to begin to peal them away  so we can be so much better informed. I might add, I recognized it was not just a one way street. Regaining and sustaining proximity is everyone’s responsibility, not just a few so called decision-makers. In reality we are all decision-makers. This thinking lead me to the idea of being provocative with a few people in a private setting, to hit them with a hammer as it were, to show them some real buffers in play situations.”  

“When you think about it, our most basic requirement is sensual perception. If our senses are buffered we do not receive messaging and general environmental information. It is why solitary confinement is so debilitating. Clothing is another form of buffering, just not so extreme. It is necessary in many circumstances in our modern world for various reasons, certainly for safety and health in some circumstances. In many other instances clothing is used to send a message or indeed is a message.” 

“Clothing is a buffer, just as a car is a buffer, a tin box with a motor that denies our relationship with the environment. Compare two people’s thoughts, one driving and one walking, about an environment. They would be very different indeed. Go further and strip away the clothing buffer and you become one with your environment in a real tactile and sensual way. We would be more informed about our bodies, what it means to be human and would lessen the erotic and sexual aspects of clothing, the desire factor arising from the mystery associated with covering something up. We would be more open with each other and I suggest if the habit grew in our social relationships it would spill over into other aspects of society. We could become more engaged and accordingly be more informed and comfortable with each other and our societal organizations and decision-making. Hopefully we would become generally more aware, respectful, capable and responsible. This is about changing values and attitudes so the pressing issues can be better tackled and solved on the foundation of greater openness and access to information.” 

“So, I suggest clothing is just one example of a buffer and it adds at times to our remoteness from one another and from our environments. Sometimes clothing is required for all sorts of reasons, but there are also times when it gets in the way and is used inappropriately or is just not needed. My event over the weekend has been planned to try to buffer some of our senses  as we discuss remoteness generally, to get the participants to express their feelings at the beginning and as we progress through to the end. I want them to make the connection between buffers and senses and perception concerning items such as the environment, clothing, technology, distance, political back room maneuvers, food, structure, surrogates, scale and so on. I don’t know if they will all get into the spirit of the proposal or not. I have told them nudity or semi-nudity might occur and they have all agreed to come to the party. So, they are consenting as it were, even though they do not know exactly what is planned or expected of them.” 

“Your involvement would be twofold, to help with organizing, managing events, some catering and to take a lead along with myself in shedding clothing at the right moments. Of course your involvement in the discussions would also be expected. Each of the participants received instructions and as the evening and weekend progresses I will try to make sure a lot of different angles are considered. I will be the facilitator. I hope they have all read my book. So, what do you think? Any questions?”

After that lengthy explanation, both Mellie and Sarah sat quietly almost waiting Greg thought for the other to say something. In fact Mellie was quite willing to be involved, but had understood Sarah’s reticence. She was not sure what to say to avoid making Sarah uncomfortable and in the end of her brief deliberations she decided it was best to be brief and to the point. 

She said, “I’m in. I think this could be really interesting.”

Sarah initially did not know what to say. Having read the book twice, sort of, and now having heard Greg’s summary of his thesis and explanation for the party she was beginning to get the picture. Now she was thinking back to an hour ago when Greg had emerged from his shower. She had been surprised to see Greg nude and yet it made perfect sense. The shower was in the open, people take showers and they are going to be nude. So what was the big deal? He is a body, albeit a good looking one she confessed to herself. She responded then in a way someone might react as they turned a corner to be faced with some unexpected unusual and embarrassing situation. They might recoil back around the corner to avoid the situation just as she had done by backing away from the window. Then her curiosity kicked in and she peeked around the edge of the window in a sort of voyeur style. 

Sarah really wanted to say  she did not want to help with this ‘party’, but she sure would like to be a fly on the wall. She also did not want to be uninvolved, to be left out of the event, on the side, unable to be part of it. She did not want to appear to be a prude. On the other hand what could Greg and Mellie expect from her? She had not been brought up with nudity. Clothing was as essential to her as food. Practicing nudity was what some people did, but not her. Even in her private moments she usually wore something.

Greg broke through her thinking as he said, “Mellie, that’s good and you will be a real help. I can show you the support material I’ve put together for the weekend at the farm so you’ll have a clear idea of the plans. You can look at it too Sarah if you want. You don’t have to decide just now about participating and helping or not. I know you are very reluctant to do so, but maybe you are also an example of the people I am trying to reach with my message. Maybe you could approach the event with a reporter’s curiosity, a fly on the wall scenario if you like. Look at it as an experiment something outside the box to be tested.”

Sarah could not believe he had used her very thought about flies. Maybe, just maybe she should not say yes or no just now. Look at the material Greg had prepared, help in advance and then maybe the fly and the wall could be suggested later, although she anticipated Greg would be reluctant to agree to someone spying on the gathering. Not fair, even she knew that. 

“OK, I’ll help to get things ready and make a decision later about whether I’ll stay for the party. As I said earlier, just now I’m reluctant to do so, even though I better understand more what you are saying Greg and what you are trying to achieve. I just don’t know if I am ready to bare all especially with people I have never met.”

“That sounds fine. See what I have planned when you come back this afternoon, help us get organized for the weekend and make up your mind, yes or no, when you are ready. Just now I think we all have to get on with chores and jobs so if you will help me get this breakfast stuff cleaned up we can all get on our ways.”

Everything was cleaned and put away in short order. Greg then demonstrated some of the workings of his kitchen furniture with both Sarah and Mellie being quite impressed with the ease of shutting or opening everything up. It all seemed to work on a ‘lazy Susan’ principle, Sarah thought. He did not show them the storage scullery off the kitchen, the room where cleaning stuff was stored, the freezer and various jars and bins of perishable and dry food. He planned to open up everything when the guests had arrived.

Greg then suggested they could all leave in about ten minutes as there was much to do in addition to the preparations for tomorrow evening and the weekend.

Mellie and Sarah went to their rooms, Sarah to collect her stuff and get dressed, Mellie to put on a pair of jeans and to fill a day bag with things she thought might be needed or useful during the day as she was not sure exactly what she and Greg would be doing. 

They met on the balcony, Sarah returning from the toilet and washroom, Mellie on route to it. Sarah was still thinking about the discussion earlier and had to ask Mellie, “What is it like growing up with nudity?” 

Mellie paused, reflected for a moment and not wanting to say the wrong thing replied, “It just is. I mean when you grow up with nudity it is something you just do without really thinking about it. I had a very safe environment and nudity was just a natural thing with us. There were embarrassing moments for sure when people visited and we forgot, but for us it was no big deal. It was just the way we lived in our home.”

“Is that why you don’t have a problem joining in on Greg’s plans?”

“Yes, and also I like the message he is trying to put out. We are generally too uptight about our bodies and a whole pile of other things. We need to open up, be more aware and if this little event helps I am happy to be involved. I think it could be fun and really interesting to see how everyone responds.” 

“Ah, well I am just not sure I want to abandon my clothing buffer just yet. I feel uneasy thinking about it.”

“I totally understand that, but maybe this would be an opportunity, as Greg said, to live outside the box, try something different and see if it works. We are all reluctant to change in many ways and I guess we have to ask ourselves will the change really matter, you know be negative and all that. If it will be negative, then maybe it is not the thing to do. I just feel what Greg is proposing here is positive in a lot of ways. So, I’m in.”

“I’ll think about it and have a look at the material he has prepared and see what I think afterwards.”

Just then Greg called up to them saying, “Are you two ready? We have a bunch of things to get to and time is running.”

Mellie blurted out, “We’ll be right down.”

Greg, Mellie and Sally went to the farm and talked about the weekend event Greg had planned on route. By the time they arrived Mellie had a good understanding of Greg’s plans and expectations. Now she needed to become familiar with the farm generally, the facilities and unique natural spots and the projects Greg had on the go. It was a tall order, a lot to take in for someone who had only really just arrived. Mellie was enthusiastic, a quick learner and more than willing to start doing something to help prepare. She thought the farmhouse was a little disappointing, nothing like the studio in town, but she saw what Greg was trying to do and thought, yes everyone should be OK staying Saturday through into Sunday. Maybe a bit crowded , but if the rain held off it would be just fine under canvas.

Greg wanted to check on the cows again so he gave Mellie a tour of the farm. It took a bit longer than he planned. When they returned he and Mellie got right into preparations Greg had not quite completed. They moved outdoor furniture around creating two focus points, the patio and a bit further away from the house, the fire pit. As a precaution, they set up cots in the house in addition to the ones already there so twelve separate sleeping spaces, each with a bit of privacy, were available. If the weather was going to cooperate, Greg actually planned to set up tents and move the cots into them. In the kitchen area they made sure everything was clean and ready to go with wood in the fire box for late night indoor warmth. Greg felt pleased with the preparations and thought they had an extra hour before going back into town to finish preparations at the studio. He suggested they do some weeding in the garden to which Mellie agreed.

He got Mellie into the carrot patch with a hoe, gave her instructions on how to use it and made his way over to the potatoes to check for beetles. About an hour should be enough time to go through all the plants he thought and proceeded to search for the yellow/orange egg blotches. 

Not a pleasant job, a bit hard on the back, but satisfying knowing the plants would have a chance to really get away. In the past his methods had worked well to the extent he dug up potatoes in perfect condition that were in excess of three pounds. At this early stage in the plant growth little tubers would only be starting to form. To ensure the plants were healthy and so they could put their energy in developing those little tubers the beetles had to be destroyed early before they had a chance to develop and devour leaves, the premature death knell for the plants. Greg could see most of the plants had broken the surface and thought after this weekend as soon as they could organize to do so, he and Mellie would spread manure mulch around the plants.

At one point in his egg blotch hunt Greg glanced over to where Mellie was hoeing and was surprised to see her working away in the late morning warmth with nothing on. If he had some uncertainty before about her being a real help with his weekend event, he now recognized she would be an asset. 

For her part Mellie was testing the water as it were. She had to be sure about Greg and the plans he had been putting together. It was a great idea this weekend event, but so far it had just been talk. She was ninety-nine percent sure it was genuine, but she wanted the additional one percent of assurance. She felt the garden was a good place to run a little test and with hoe in hand she felt there was a bit of protection, if it was needed and she was confident it would not be needed, almost. Besides it was a lovely warm late morning and she really did miss opportunities to be outdoors with nothing on. So she stripped off and got on with hoeing keeping an eye on Greg to see what he would do. Only once did she see him look her way. He then turned back to his task of picking something off what she thought might be potatoes or tomatoes, she wasn’t sure. 

As she progressed along the row her attention was completely given over to hoeing forgetting about Greg. She was in the moment, concentrating and enjoyed the warmth and slight breeze. She was therefore a bit startled when he spoke, not far away from her. 

“Ah, you are doing a wonderful job, but I think we need to call it quits now and get back into town. Besides, don’t want you to get all burned up by staying out her any longer without sun screen. I am going to grab a quick shower on the patio. If you want one too the water should still be warm and then we must get back as I think Sarah might be at the studio soon. Also things to prepare there.”

“OK, but I only have a few feet to go to finish this row, so if it is OK I’ll do that and then have a shower.”

“Fine and I will leave a towel on the deck chair. I have a couple more things to do inside so just give a shout when you are done and ready to go.” he said.

Greg walked off toward the house. Mellie finished hoeing the row. As she was putting the hoe away and looking around at the garden, at its size and the variety of stuff growing, she realized Greg was the genuine article. She had no more concerns from then on. Now she too headed for the house and the patio where they had arranged some furniture. She was looking forward to the shower and got there just as Greg was drying himself off. 

“I’ll leave you to it. There is the towel and soap is on the ledge. Enjoy it. I’ll be inside.”

Mellie did not have to take anything off and so just walked under the shower and turned it on thinking, how wonderful.

Greg entered the house with a smile, then thought about Rose, his mood abruptly changed, but still with a smile he said,  “I miss you Rose.”

They got back to the studio before Sarah and prepared a quick lunch finishing just as she arrived. Greg had just returned from the courtyard for the coffee when Sarah entered.

Sally, Greg noticed again, greeted her enthusiastically at the door and commented, “You seem to have gained a friend.” 

“It does seem that way. She slept in my bedroom doorway last night. Did not want to close the door and disturb her, so just left it with the way she seemed  comfortable.”

“Sally used to do the same thing when Rose was alive. Wouldn’t let her out of her sight unless it was to go for a walk with me. It is interesting she is doing the same thing with you.”

“Who was Rose, your wife?” Sarah asked.

“Yup, Sally and I buried her almost a year ago now. It seems neither of us has completely gotten over it quite yet. Car accident. She was an inspiration for a lot of what you see here, the farm and what I have been writing.”

Saying ‘sorry for your loss’ never quite seemed to be the right thing to say, but she said it anyway and meant the sentiment of it and that was the important part. Be genuine in condolences or say nothing was her sense. She had to figure out a better word than ‘sorry’. 

“Care for a bit of lunch?” asked Greg. “We just got back and thought replenishing the batteries was a good idea before tackling the stuff needed doing here. It is still out in the courtyard with Mellie. I can bring you up to speed with the plans if you want as you eat.”

“OK.” Sarah said.

Sarah had some plans of her own she would put forward, but she would wait until after Greg had laid out the way he hoped the weekend would transpire. She just hoped he would see her idea as an opportunity to get his thoughts out to a larger audience.

Sarah was pleased with Greg’s explanations and the added contributions from Mellie. She had thought long and hard about being involved and then an idea had started to take shape. For the idea to work she had to go along with the plans and programme for the weekend, all the way and that meant, she knew, taking off her clothes. She decided to do it though on the condition Greg agreed with her plans. Oh, she might do it even if he didn’t agree thinking about what Mellie had said, that it was no big deal. 

Greg in response thought her idea was good and he was OK with it as long as no names were used, there was no other information that might identify participants, that the participants be made aware of her intentions and that everyone would have a chance to vet her stories from an identification and accuracy of comment point of view.

Sarah had explained her idea to the paper’s editor. He had given his OK for the series, as she proposed a series of articles on the subjects coming out of the discussions. Then, as she was leaving his office, he dropped the bombshell she was not expecting. He was going to attend the weekend event. 

At that moment Sarah did not know what to do or say. She was completely paralyzed and could only stare at her editor. All of a sudden so many thoughts were bouncing around in her mind she could not grasp any of them. Slowly the mayhem subsided, she regained control of her legs, turned and walked back to her desk. 

She heard the editor say as she retreated, “See you there.” 

She wilted into her seat and started absentmindedly flipping a pencil in the air. What was she doing? It was bad enough taking clothes off with strangers, but with the editor there. Oh shit, was all she could think. 

Overhearing the expletive, Alice asked, “Is everything OK?” 

In reply Sarah waved her hand and then remembered the librarian was also going to be there. She figured there had to be a better way to make a living.

Greg had been meticulous with his planning Sarah realized. She also recognized Greg had been working on this weekend get together for months, well before she and Mellie came on the scene. Each participant had received a copy of his book and a weekend brief. He wanted every participant to understand fully the purpose of the weekend and the ‘house rules’. To get twelve participants he had actually canvassed eighteen. Some declined because they were not available or at least that was their story. Others said no because they did not feel comfortable with nudity. One declined because of a contrary opinion to Greg’s book even though Greg had indicated nudity was not essential and the contributions to the discussion were most important, whatever viewpoint someone held. Eventually he convinced twelve people to be involved and was very pleased with the variety of backgrounds. Greg felt the weekend would be very interesting. 

Now with lunch finished he thought about the list of chores to be done before the guests started to arrive in the late morning, tomorrow. He explained the tasks, including preparations in the studio and at the farm, to Mellie and Sarah. He figured they could work for the rest of the afternoon in the studio and then go to the farm to complete preparations in the evening and first thing in the morning. He had already completed the additional packages of information each guest would get upon arrival. Now finishing the preparations for sleeping and food preparation were the priority. 

In a normal situation on his own or previously when Rose was alive, he would work around the studio and at the farm without clothes. Sometimes Rose joined him and sometimes their day deteriorated into playful water fights and wrestling matches. He could not help pausing and remembering.  

Sarah noticed and had to ask, “Is everything OK?”

“Yah, just thinking about Rose. It happens occasionally. It seems today is one of those days. Listen, Sarah I know you are not wholly comfortable with nudity so I just want you and Mellie you two to know there is no need to strip off on the weekend if you really do not want to do so. I have no idea how many of the guests will strip and in the end I may be the only one to do so. Even then I will be playing it by ear. Nudity may just not happen at all at any time.”  

“When I was thinking of Rose, I was remembering our lives together here in the studio and at the farm. Later when we arrange the cots and futons, I am going to strip down.  I may also go natural at the farm. Join with me if you want and maybe you will gain a comfort level allowing you to more easily take your clothes off through the weekend. But, before we do there is some heavy lifting of a few futons from storage downstairs needed to be brought up here. So, if one of you comes with me the other can position and attack the two sofa fold out beds. Here is a plan of the studio showing the proposed location for all the sofas and futons.”

Mellie volunteered on the futons so she and Greg got right to it. There were three to haul up from storage to join with the others Greg had previously brought up. 

In the meantime Sarah struggled pushing the two sofas into place before trying to figure out how to open them up. She was not having a lot of success. As she tried to open them out her thinking wandered to the clothing issue again, but she could not see clearly what she should do. While Greg had tried not to put any pressure on her, she thought, never-the-less she felt some, maybe self imposed. She wasn’t sure. 

Sarah had heard Greg say to Mellie, “One more load and we are done.” 

All of a sudden her mind completely cleared. At that moment Sarah new exactly what she was going to do.

When Greg and Mellie reappeared bringing the last futon frame through the door they were met with the scene of Sarah with a bare backside struggling to open the second bed sofa. No big deal is what Mellie had said. Sarah had decided to put her words and sentiments to the test. 

Greg saw her problem with the sofa immediately and called over to hang on, he would be right there to show her how to do it. He stripped went to Sarah and showed her where the lock was to release the fold out apparatus. They unfolded the bed mechanism and then Greg asked Sarah to help with the futons. In the meantime Mellie had also stripped and so the three went about setting up futons in the required nooks throughout the studio space. No one commented on nudity. They just got on with the task and as they did Sarah felt more and more relaxed. 

When they had finished placing the futons Greg was lavish with his praise for their help and asked, “Who wants a cold one?” 

Both Sarah and Mellie replied in unison, “Oh yah.” 

“Come on then we can have them in the courtyard. It is cooler out there by now. In here it is like a sweat box. While we are having a beer decide what you want to eat and we can pick something up on route to the farm.”

“Isn’t the courtyard a bit exposed?”, asked Sarah.

“Not really and not at this time of day or early evening. There is only one window looking on to the courtyard and the tree blocks most of that view. For anyone else they would need a pair of binoculars or something like that and the light is starting to fade and we will be sitting in chairs with our backs to the big old world anyway. Put something on if you want, but not many eyes can see into the courtyard and just now I doubt many are looking in this direction.”

“I think it would not take long to make up a big salad with your garden stuff,” said Mellie.

“Sure, sounds good,” replied Sarah 

“Ok, we can do a quick pick when we get to the farm,” said Greg. “I have stuff already in storage and in the fridge, so should be able to make up something delicious.”

They drank their beers in quiet listening to the early evening town noises. Greg excused himself after a short while as he went back inside to organize a couple more things before going to the farm. He also wanted to take a few moments in private to reflect about languages.

I considered our senses last time, and suggested through natural and designed languages our bodies receive stimuli and then process it to give it meaning. 

It is important to recognize then, language is more than words. The raw information, stimuli, pours into our sensory system and subsequently our brains make sense of it by filtering the stimuli through memory, experience and knowledge and by assigning concepts, words, language to the stimuli. Put your hand on a hot surface and you feel the heat. Instantly you recoil, you remove your hand from the danger and then almost simultaneously from conceptual memory we recognize hot, danger, keep away, stupid. How stupid can I be?  

This is a quality moment as so many moments are where our senses are concerned. First it is purely sensual, a natural language, and then almost immediately it is conceptual and as such is imbedded with designed language. We feel it and immediately understand the feeling because we have conceptual language through which we can assign meaning. Our memory of hot and hurt is reinforced. It is an emotional moment.

As we grow, as our sensory system and brain mature a number of functions are happening it almost seems simultaneously. It is a highly complex process involving at the beginning stimulus and at the end response with a great deal going on between. 

Jean-Michel Basquiat did a head painting and for me he depicted the immensity and mystery of what is happening in the brain. It resembles a peeled away Homer Simpson head with all the connections, snakes and ladders, frames of reference, images, black holes, spongy bits and apparent chaos. As you look at it one cannot help but realize there is a lot going on in the cranium and we do not understand it all, although over the years much has been learned. 

Exactly how we establish consciousness from the jumble is another mystery. Somewhere between stimuli and response our brains are able to conceptualize self and other. Maybe that is when designed language was born. Or does it have something to do with recognition of early life sounds such as ‘mum’ and ‘dad’. Maybe it all happened because some early ancestor saw their reflection and realized it was their reflection. Maybe consciousness is no more than memory of self in juxtaposition to other.

In a fashion similar to Pirsig’s notion of classical thinking, I have toyed with a graphic image and words depicting the functions of our brains. In a simplistic description and to help identify what goes on between stimuli and response I have added the word ‘thinking’. The phrase now reads ‘stimulus - thinking - response’. 

Daniel Kahneman would say, does say, we think on two levels, ‘fast’ and ‘slow’, the first subconsciously and quickly like a knee jerk response and the second considered. Of course ‘thinking’ is not so simple. There are many inputs to the thinking process, not least personal experience incidentally different for everyone. 

What does this thinking process look like? It is non-linear, probably more like a very dense Fuller sphere or the Basquiat head, with various inputs reflecting the subject of the moment. 

The process starts with outside stimulus, although outside stimulus is not always needed to get the grey cells working. In fact it is misleading to say ‘the process starts’ because it never stops once the ignition switch, life, is turned on. The process will wax and wane, but once it is functioning our brains continue to function until, well until they stop functioning. 

A vast array of stimuli are received on a more or less continual basis. The arriving information, depending on the form, visual, felt, heard and so on, is linked to different parts of the brain for further processing. If you like, this is an initial filtering and  identification stage where the information is compared to the relevant stored memory of similar information. 

Instantly our brains are determining the familiarity of the incoming information. Is this a face I know? I know this book. That is a wonderful and familiar aroma. 

Memory is referred to almost immediately  for the purpose of recognition. Is this something new or do I know it and is it OK? Obviously memory plays a huge role in this process, but beyond the sub-conscious first response intuitive level there is another level of analysis employing learned conceptual language. This would be Kahneman’s slow thinking sequence when the brain is required to invest more time and energy in determining, in the words of a would-be politician, “What the hell is going on?” 

At this level of thinking learned language is crucial as memory is stored as sensual data, but is identified for slow thinking as concepts and concepts are made possible by designed and learned languages all based upon conceptual definitions. 

I am not going to try to illustrate this process diagrammatically because I am sure the diagram would be too simple and therefore would not successfully convey the process. Instead and for lack of a better comparison, consider your computer’s hard drive and all the applications employed. The complexity is astounding in our senses and brain system and it does something no computer can do, it understands consciousness, but that is not all and in the next aside I want to consider thinking and response in more detail.

“What do you think of this scheme of Greg’s?” asked Sarah. “It seems out there to me and I wonder how many of his guests will oblige and take off their clothes.”

“I don’t know the answer to that,” replied Mellie. “But, I do understand what he is trying to get at and to get people to think about. For example I have noticed over the years we have become more remote in two ways. While we have paid more and more attention to the internet we have paid less attention to our families and local communities. We are losers on both accounts as we have just become more and more distant. Of course the internet, it can be argued, has become a wonderful tool for some things and I would not want to lose the access to information it allows and encourages, but we forget to look around us at what we can see and touch and smell.”

“Obviously you are not concerned about the clothing thing?”

“No, as I said it is no big deal and I think Greg is just trying to use clothing as another way of identifying buffers. Now you have been nude for a couple of hours, what do you think? Are you becoming more comfortable without clothes and have you felt the air around you?”

“Yes, on both counts. It’s kinda nice actually, but I don’t know about stripping with strangers and non-strangers. But, on the other hand I am curious and I think I want to find out so I’ll probably participate.”

“Just remember,” said Mellie, “it is only one example of buffering and it is very close to us so I think Greg wanted to bring it home as close as he could, but it will not be mandatory.”

“So, what have you two been chatting about?” Greg asked as he emerged from the archway and without waiting for a reply, said, “We should go soon as lots to do at the farm.”

“Right just about finished this beer.” replied Mellie. “It is awfully good. Who produces this stuff? It is worth knowing so I can get some more someday.”

“I do and you are welcome to have some whenever you like. But, just now we have to get moving so back on with your clothes and away we go.”

“No driving naked?” asked Sarah.

“You can if you want to, but you will need to keep a low profile. Don’t want to have any complaints leading into this weekend. Soon as we get there you can strip off again if you want. Then again it will probably be buggy.”

Getting their stuff together only took a few minutes and with the things Greg had put at the door in hand they made their way down to the truck parked below. The drive to the farm was uneventful although for Sarah it was a new experience going into an area outside town she had not been in before. As they moved further from town she was struck by the growing beauty of the countryside. The drive to the farm was wonderful and it felt even better sandwiched between Mellie and Greg although the stick shift did cause a couple of problems until she figured out how to position her legs which required putting them over toward Mellie’s feet a bit and leaning more into Greg. She felt good.

Sally seemed to thoroughly enjoy the truck ride and the feel of speed. She partly hung over the side and although Greg felt she would not jump out, he took no chances and actually tied her in allowing her just enough length to get her head and shoulders near the edge. As they made the second last turn and headed toward the farm drive Sally knew exactly where she was and started barking and wagging her tail ferociously. Sarah leaning against Greg just felt warm and kept saying to herself, “I wonder what this farm will be like.” Mellie having been there before was looking at the roadside and the views taking in everything she had missed before. Greg driving on instinct was relaxed and thinking about what they could achieve while there remained some time of fading light. 

Greg stopped at the farm drive, got out, untied Sally who took off down the drive toward the house in the distance while Greg retrieved the mail. Sarah sat somewhat mesmerized looking along the tree lined drive toward a house in the distance. Mellie also got out and shouted she would walk/run to the house. Greg got back in the truck and drove the remaining 150 meters to the house. 

Sarah decided she loved this place already especially because of the tree tunnel they had just driven through. She felt home even though she had never set eyes on the place. It just seemed to fit with her imagination of what a farm should look like, especially the drive. Of course the old house just added to the image. She got out, took a deep breath, stretched a bit and turned a 360 to get her bearings. For Sarah it all seemed just, well, right.

Greg was taking stuff out of the back of the truck as Mellie approached. He had figured there would be enough time to put up some if not all the tents he had brought. He thought creating a little campground out back would be best, not far from the house and within distance of the outside back light. He figured a wagon wheel arrangement might be fun. 

“Come on girls, we have a bit of work to do. Lets get this stuff around the back and then Mellie you and Sarah can bring out the rest of the tents from the back kitchen. I’d like to get all of them up tonight so we can concentrate on other things in the morning.”

Mellie looked around thinking she had seen a wheel barrow the last time and soon saw a part of it at the corner of the house. She quickly ran over to it and brought it back saying, “Put the stuff in here and then only one trip. Sarah and I will get the rest from inside.”

“Thinking, that is what I like,” said Greg as he also thought Mellie was going to work out just fine. He thought she was a very bright girl and he would have to keep on his toes. 

With everything in the wheelbarrow, he hefted it up by the handles and pushed it around the back to where he had already put stakes with identity numbers in the ground. As he pushed the wheelbarrow he thought again, as he often did, the contributions to a task by more than one person often enhanced the results. 

He surveyed the campsite again just to be sure in his own mind, it would work. Then he grabbed a tent bag and pulled out its contents. He realized they were going to have to work quickly to get all eight tents up before it was dark. When the girls returned Greg instructed them to grab a tent each and start to put it up. 

“These tents are not difficult to put up and they should be fine as long as you get the corners in with all the sides tight.”

Sarah looked over at Greg and said quietly, almost too quiet, “I have never put up a tent.”

“No girl guides or summer camping? You have lead a deprived life so far m’dear. How about you Mellie?”

“Oh, I have put them up, but I don’t know about this style.”

“Good, I am sure you will figure it out. Make sure the entry faces into the middle and set the tent back from the fire pit about six meters at the stakes in the ground. Sarah, help me here and then you can do one or two on your own afterward.”

They got on with the task Greg putting up four on his own, Mellie two after she figured them out and with a bit of coaching, Sarah one, almost, and Greg and Sarah sharing on one, well really two. Sarah, Greg realized, had a lot to learn and the life curve was going to be steep if she embraced it.

There was just a little light left and Greg wanted to go for a soak. He actually wanted to go on his own, but did not want to be seen to be deserting the girls. So reluctantly he told them and invited them to join him although he tried to put them off by saying the water would be much cooler than the shower. Both said they would go with Greg so he turned grabbed up the lamp took a towel from the stand by the shower and said, “This way you intrepid naturists.” They each grabbed a towel and followed Greg into a corner of the woods further away from the back garden campsite and the house.

Not far along the path Greg turned sharply left into a side path and followed it. Looking ahead, Sarah saw the path open out into what she thought was a small clearing and then she heard the water. As they approached the clearing the scene became more visible. Sarah realized a small waterfall emptied into what looked like a rock pool. She could not see where the water exited the pool.

“Here we are. I warn you it will be cool, but in this warmth it should be OK for a short dip and getting out will be into warm air. Last one in has to make the salad.” he teased as he let himself into the water disappearing for a few moments before coming back to the surface, shaking water from his hair and exclaiming, “Oh just wonderful. Watch the first step, it goes down quite a ways.”

Mellie was next in and quickly realized Greg was not joking. “How far to the bottom?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Haven’t been down that far,” Greg replied with a great big grin.

Mellie considered this then pushed off to the other side, about twenty feet away where again she found a bit of ledge to stand on.

Sarah was not at all sure she wanted to go in. At the best of times water did not thrill her and swimming around in the dark just did not appeal. It dawned on her again she had been leading a sheltered life and so resolved again to break the mold. She stripped off and dangled her toes in the water to find the temperature was remarkably warm, not cool as Greg had threatened. She eased herself in where Mellie had entered and found the ledge to stand on. 

“Is this natural and how come the water is so warm?” Mellie asked. 

“Yup, completely natural, a little gem. The water comes in over rock and the pool is surrounded by rock and on a warm sunny day the rock absorbs heat and transfers it to the water. So, this is my hot tub during the day and cool tub at night. Great to come here at the end of a day and just relax with a beer and good company. Unfortunately I lost my good company and so Sally and I have been doing this on our own for a while now. Refreshing, huh?”

“Absolutely lovely,” Mellie agreed.

“During the day with the sun shining it is a great place to come and cool down with a nice cold beer. You’ll have to try it.”

“Where does the water go from the pool?” Sarah asked. 

“Not sure, there is no surface water stream exiting so it must go underground, but I don’t know where it goes underground or whether it comes to the surface again somewhere. It just seems to disappear.  So, girls I think I want some food and an early to bed as the next couple of days are going to be long and mind consuming. We have some more preparation to do in the early morning and then back into town for final preparations and waiting for the guests.” 

As he said this Greg lifted himself out of the water into the warm summer night. He almost did not need the towel, but knew if he did not dry off the water evaporating would cool him down and undo the very comfortable warmth of the evening. 

He grabbed his clothes, slung the towel over his shoulder, started off down the path and called back, “Bring the lamp please and watch out for bears as you return to the house.”

“What? Hey wait for us,” called Sarah as she scrambled out of the water grabbing her towel and clothes. 

Mellie was a little slower to get out as she was thoroughly enjoying the pool and lingering warmth of the water. Bears, well that was something else. She thought Greg was teasing again, but she also did not want to find out he wasn’t and she figured during her stay with Greg there would be other opportunities to revisit the pool. So, she joined Sarah and with the light they retraced their footsteps back to the house.

They found Greg at a cutting board on the patio starting to prepare stuff for the salad. He wore shorts and a sweatshirt in the cooling evening air. 

“Mellie, could you please run out to the garden and get a few of those carrots you were so keenly weeding?” he asked and then also asked, “Do you want a hot drink when you return?” 

“Hot chocolate, if it is on the menu,” replied Mellie and Sarah agreed.

“Just be a minute then,” and Greg went into the house as Mellie with Sarah in tow went to the garden for carrots.

The garden was located on the other side of the house part way between the house and a distant barn. Obviously, Mellie now realized, the garden was protected from little critters by the three foot high fence surrounding it. It was not just some aesthetic add-on, although it did provide a sense of enclosure she had just not recognized when weeding the carrots earlier. Just beyond the garden and off to the right in front of a continuation from the drive of a line of what looked like mature spreading maples, was a woodpile and small shed she had not noticed either. In the dim light she could not make out many details, mostly just the dark bulk of the woodpile volume. She realized now there would be much more to see on the farm.

Just at that moment as they entered into the garden, Sarah asked, as if in response to Mellie’s thoughts and observations, “How much of the farm have you seen Mellie?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not sure if I have seen most of it or not. What I did see was superficial at best. This is the sort of place where you need to live with it for a while before you really know it. I did not know about the pool and I wonder what other surprises are out there.”

They found the carrots, pulled a few and lingered for a few moments just enjoying the early evening air. Sarah then asked, “Do you know what he does with the farm?”

“Big garden as you see and some cows. That’s all I know so far. Oh, and I think he has been renovating the house for a while now. Maybe we need to get back and help with the salad.” 

They returned in silence as Greg emerged from the house with three steaming cups of hot chocolate. The carrots were washed and chopped added to the rest of the salad which was then tossed. Greg then invited them to get tucked in and enjoy the fruits of their labours. For a while they were all happy to eat and listen to the night air and noises. In their silence the background noise of the summer countryside clearly took over. It was not silent out here at all Sarah realized. There was a cacophony of noise in the background, but she did not know what was making such a racket, although she thought it was maybe birds of some sort. 

Then they arrived, unwanted and unwelcome, but also unstoppable. People respond differently to mosquitoes, some not being bothered at all and at the other extreme those who seem to attract every mosquito around. Mellie was in the former category and Sarah could not stand them especially those going for the ankles and the ones buzzing around her ears. She would come out in big welts where the mosquitoes sucked away and her skin would begin to feel like something was crawling all over it. Normally as soon as they appeared she would exit, go inside, get as far away from them as she could. 

Mellie was enjoying the early evening and the relaxation after all they had done. It had been a long day, but she felt good and did not want to leave the evening air no matter what the other two decided to do. Greg was just happy to relax knowing the next two days would not afford much of it, let alone getting a full sleep.

“I am afraid these mosquitoes are going to drive me inside. I think a good book in a comfy chair would do me just fine for an hour or two. So, before being eaten alive I must retreat. On this matter I know when I am defeated.”

“I lit the fire earlier so it should be cozy by the stove. I’ll stay out here a bit longer, but I am no martyr and so will join you in a little while.”

“I am really enjoying watching the evening grow. Can’t really get enough of stars I guess. So I’ll be out here for a while, but when I do retreat a bath would be excellent if there is one and there is enough water.”

“Should be OK and there are some bath bubbles if you want to use them. I was thinking when I exit a bowl of ice cream and raspberries would be good. Either of you want some?”

“I’ll pass.” said Sarah but, Mellie enthusiastically said, “Yes, for my bath please.”

“I think that can be arranged and would mademoiselle like some maple syrup on top?”

“Oh, I think it is a decadent ‘yes’ to that.”

Mellie and Greg then watched Sarah go inside scratching and rubbing as she went. Psychological or real, it did not matter. Sarah was no friend of mosquitoes and wanted some real distance between them and her. The only insect worse for Sarah than mosquitoes were spiders. She knew it was irrational, but could not help herself get use to them. In comparison to mosquitoes size mattered.

Sarah fell into one of the big comfortable looking chairs facing the stove and was soon asleep after reading just a few lines from a book she picked up off a shelf, thinking as she did the atmosphere of the house was like a cottage. The only sound missing was the noise of water lapping on the shore and rocks. Greg found Sarah curled up on the chair and with a smile of remembrance drew a blanket over her. 

Mellie actually came in shortly after Greg and  started her bath complete with an enormous amount of bubbles, mountains of them. When Greg delivered the ice cream Mellie was happily submerged under the bubbles so Greg could only see her from the neck up. “Would mademoiselle care for anything else?” Greg asked acting on impulse.

“No James, I am fine.” she answered playfully and added as Greg withdrew, “Thanks.”

Greg did not know what to do with Sarah. Of course he could just leave her there and all would be good in the morning, although undoubtedly she would awake and feel stiff having stayed in a curled up position all night. If it was Rose he would have just picked her up and placed her in their bed. Sarah was about the same size, So Greg figured he could still provide the service, but did not know how Sarah would respond. Rose would have wrapped herself around Greg. He wasn’t sure whether Sarah would lash out at him or not and he did not know how deeply she slept. So, he made sure the blanket was tucked around her, turned down the stove and made his way to bed deciding just before his head hit the pillow the order of business the next day. As usual he would be up with the sun attending to his chores before coffee and maybe croissants. He was surprised and delighted when Mellie joined him in the morning for chores. He realized again, Mellie was interested and was going to make sure she contributed her share of the work load. Lucky me, he thought.

Chapter 4

It was going to be a full day and weekend Greg anticipated again as Sally, Mellie and he returned to the house. As they approached along the farm track, they saw Sarah stretching off the stiffness from sleeping in the big chair. She had walked around the house getting her bearings in the new light of day. As they approached Greg and Mellie were going over what they had to do before returning to town.

“OK, lots to do but need sustenance first. Either of you want porridge with your fruit and coffee?” 

Mellie was eager to try the porridge and hoped her childhood memories would be rekindled whereas Sarah did not make a habit of having much for breakfast, so declined the porridge thinking some fruit and coffee would be just fine. 

“I will make the porridge. Mellie, fruit is in the fridge and the fruit bowl over there. Maybe cutting it up for a salad would be good. Sarah, here are the coffee beans. This is the roaster. Here is the measuring cup. Fill it and put the beans into here and turn the roaster on for about five minutes. The grinder is here, the coffee jug here and the kettle on the stove should be just about boiling.”

“I’ve never roasted coffee” was Sarah’s first response, “but, I’ll give it a go.” Got to try to help even if I make a total balls up of it, she thought.

Mellie was rummaging through the fridge and hauling out additional things like jams, cheese and the remains of some summer sausage. This was going to be a breakfast feast. 

“Do you eat like this all the time?” she asked.

“Usually I get a good lump of food in the morning in case eating during the rest of the day is awkward or impossible,” he said.

Other than showing Sarah how the coffee grinder worked, everything went smoothly and it was all ready at more of less the same time including the fruit Mellie had cut in intriguing ways of different shapes and sizes. 

Over breakfast Greg explained the tasks for the morning, more for Sarah’s benefit as he and Mellie had already spoken about what needed to be done. They also spoke about  weekend responsibilities when everyone arrived at the warehouse and when they were  at the farm. He wanted Sarah and Mellie to be guides on the farm and so after eating took them on a tour to explain and show them, without giving anything away, the farm layout. To accomplish this they had to walk to the far ends of the farm, a very pleasant morning workout. By the time they returned to the house the morning had almost slipped away and they were quite warm from the effort. Greg said he had a couple more things to prepare and if the girls helped it would be accomplished more quickly. He wanted to bring a pile of veggies in from the garden to take to the warehouse and if they prepared bread dough now they could bake it also at the warehouse.

He intended to make two sorts of bread, not the baguette style he thought about earlier, rather a half-and-half white and whole wheat and some platted cheese bread using only white flour. 

Neither Sarah nor Mellie had made bread before, but they both wanted to help now. What they could not know in advance was Greg had no intention of lifting a finger to do the preparations. He was only going to give instructions.

“This will be your bread entirely, girls. It is called hands on learning.” Greg informed them.

“I am willing to help, but I know zip about making bread, let alone much else.” Sarah said.

“Well, then it is time you learned a thing or two. Think of it as a reporter and you have to write a short piece about making bread. The best way of getting a feel for it and to then find the words to describe the experience is to do it. You will need your notepad and a pen to jot down instructions. ” Greg said. “I’ll wait till you are ready.” 

Both Sarah and Mellie retrieved paper and pens.

“Ok, here we go. To start you need to assemble the following: two big stainless steel mixing bowls, bread yeast, flour, olive oil, salt, maple syrup, two wooden mixing spoons, measuring spoons, three litres of water, sunflower seeds, and two glass measuring jugs. You can find all of the stuff in the pantry. When it is on the counters we can proceed.”

Gradually they found the items on their lists and as Greg watched he wondered why Sarah in particular had such limited kitchen skills. He felt Mellie was more familiar with food preparation, but still to reach thirty something and not know how to make bread seemed to him negligent. Of course he was aware young people generally were not getting the opportunities to cook and some just chose not to preferring processed, junk and instant foods. Lingering over a recipe and taking time to prepare a wonderful meal just did not seem to be the way food was prepared today. Too busy surfing the web, playing games and texting. Maybe he was not being fair, but then again he knew attitudes had changed from the time when he grew up. With everything assembled it was show time.

“With the instructions I give, you will each make three loaves. Warm the water to blood heat and as the water is warming place 15 ml of yeast in each of the two measuring jugs. Add a little maple syrup and when the water is warmed pour about 400 ml into each jug. Set the jugs on the edge of the stove to keep the water and yeast warm.”

“Why warm water?” asked Mellie.

“The yeast, at least bread yeast, likes warm water to get going and grow. A lager yeast prefers cool water and ale yeast is similar to bread yeast.” Greg said. “It usually takes ten or fifteen minutes for the yeast to pop up to the surface in a big glob.”

“What’s a glob?” asked Sarah.

“A sticky gooey blob. You’ll see. While you are waiting for the yeast to pop up each of you take a mixing bowl. Who is doing the half-and-half and who the cheese bread?”

“I like the sound of cheese bread.” said Mellie.

“To start Mellie place two heaping flour scoops of white flour in your bowl. Sarah, place one scoop of each flour in your bowl. Each of you add a few pinches of salt and mix it around. Don’t forget to take notes. Don’t mix too vigorously or you will wear more than stays in the bowl.”

“Now, back to the yeast. You see how the glob has popped to the surface. It is alive and well and now lighter than water with the CO2 it is generating. If you put your ear close to the yeast you can hear it doing it’s thing. Each of you empty your yeast into the mixing bowls and half each of the remaining warm water. You can both also pour in some Olive oil, maybe a table spoon. This method involves a wet mix to start. There are two advantages, it is easier to mix and you do not have to measure an exact amount of flour. You just add flour as you go along until the dough has the right feel, not too wet and sticky and not too dry and tough. For the moment though, use the wooden spoons to mix the wet and dry together.”

“Easy peasy so far,” said Sarah.

“Making bread is not difficult. There is just this mystique that says it is difficult,” said Greg.

“How long do you stir this wet mix?” asked Mellie.

“Just until wet and dry are together and when they are add  another two scoops of flour and continue mixing. You should be finding the dough much more difficult to mix with the spoon. When the dough starts to ball up it is time to get your hands into the mix, to start kneading.”

“Aren’t there machines to do the kneading?” asked Sarah.

“Yes, but that would take the fun and feel out of it and you would loose an opportunity to strengthen your wrists,” said Greg. “If the dough is sticky just add a bit more flour, not too much or you will then have to add some water. Keep doing this until you are happy with the feel, oh maybe ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Is that it?” asked Sarah.

“Not quite,” said Greg. “You should mix in the sunflower seeds now. You could have put them in earlier, about a cup will do. Then just put another little bit of Olive oil on the dough and kneed it in too. For the moment Mellie your work is done when the texture is right. You could add some Olive oil too and then you will have more to do back at the warehouse. I forgot, you both need to put your bowls into a plastic bag to prevent the dough from drying out. That is it for now. Any questions?”

“Which dough would you use for your pizza base?” asked Mellie.

“Either, doesn’t matter, preference,” said Greg. “For the moment just leave the dough covered and allow me to lead you up the garden path. We need to raid the veggie patch.”

After washing off the crusty dough from their hands, the two girls followed Sally, Greg and his oversized bag out to the garden.

In the garden Greg said, “I don’t know what our guests are going to want to prepare for a dinner. Therefore, we need to take a variety of veggies in quantities to feed a dozen people. I also have stuff at the warehouse. Not likely anyone will go hungry. So, Sarah please pick some tomatoes and cucumber. Mellie, you are on carrot and onion detail. I am going to attack the kale and dig up a few fresh potatoes. While you are getting tomatoes Sarah you might also find some peppers lurking on the fringes beside the tomatoes. We could also do with a couple of Chinese cabbage. I think that should do us for now. If for some unforeseeable reason either of you are having difficulty meeting your quota, just shout.”

Sarah had a little difficulty identifying the plants, but refused to ask for help. Seek and you will find was her plan. All the veggies were quickly assembled and stuffed in Greg’s bag. They were off again back to the house, found their belongings, dumped it all into the pickup and were now going along the farm drive, destination warehouse.

Sarah was reluctant to leave. She felt she had been hit with a hammer of rural beauty. Going back to town just did not seem to be the thing she wanted to do. Relaxing at the farm would have been much preferred, but did not realize being at the farm in a normal period meant work. Mellie, on the other hand new about rural work and was thinking while the weekend was going to be interesting, she was looking forward to settling in for her stay and the everyday chores and routine, something she had been missing now for quite a while.

After driving through the transition, as Greg called it, back to town they arrived at the warehouse. First they hoisted everything up the stairs into the apartment. Sarah’s bread had risen and was ready to bake. Greg quickly organized her getting the bread into loaf tins so they could go into the oven in about twenty minutes. Mellie had a bit more preparation to do. 

Greg asked her if she had ever platted hair to which Mellie replied, “Yes, often, years ago, but not so much recently.”

“Good, you have enough dough to make three loaves. You will need to roll out nine long sausage like shapes, three sausages per loaf. Platt them and then you grate some cheese onto the loaf tops and when they have risen a bit we bung them into the oven.”

Sarah watched what Mellie was doing and then asked, “How long for baking?”

“About forty-five to fifty minutes at 400 degrees F.” replied Greg. “Once they are done you cover them and put them on the side ready for our guests to enjoy.”

With the bread finished and the aroma wafting through the apartment, Greg said they had an hour or so to clean up and relax and he intended to do the latter in the courtyard. 

“If you care to join me I would enjoy your company.”

In a few minutes more they were comfortably seated soaking up the afternoon warmth.  Sarah, still wanting to learn more about Greg, asked him, “What got you thinking about organizing this weekend?”

“The short answer is I am concerned about where humanity is headed. I thought if I could convince some people my concerns are well founded, then with their help my concerns could be more broadly spread to reach more people in this community and beyond. My plans may or may not work, but it won’t be for lack of trying. We really don’t have time for the long answer, but I am working on another book to tie all this thinking together. I may give a series of lectures also, but that is not fixed.”

“Where are the lectures and can I attend?” asked Sarah.

“Yes, to the last, if you promise to be on time and they will be at the University.“Does this weekend have anything to do with the subject of the lectures?” she asked.

“Yes, yes it is all closely related, in my mind at least. And now I am due for a shower before everyone starts arriving. This should be fun and I hope revealing.” With that Greg rose and headed for the passage and the kitchen.

When Greg had disappeared Sarah turned to Mellie saying, “What do you think?”

Mellie was quiet for a minute of reflection and then suggested, “I think we are just as much a part of his plan as the guests, but I have not figured out just how. Obviously he has given us roles to play in this weekend vignette, but only he knows the purpose. I’m OK with that because I think he is quite genuine about what he believes is a problem and he seems to want others to participate in spreading the word. It will be interesting to be part of it as it unfolds.”

“I quite agree ... I think.” 

Mellie then rose and commented her BO needed to be soap scented and so she was going to follow Greg with a shower and with that she turned toward the passage and was gone in a flash. Sarah sat for a little longer and pondered Mellie’s comments and wondered what was in store for them.

While I wait for the guests to arrive it seems a good time to continue discussing our brains, their functions and the role of language. 

In effect language in conjunction with memory is an awesome combination.  With language understood the realm of possibility, opportunity and further understanding is expansive. In theory anyway, with language the secrets of the universe, of existence are gradually being unlocked. 

Our brains created languages and employ them to further knowledge and understanding in addition to our everyday use of languages for social, cultural and political purposes. We communicate and think with language. 

Designed languages are really fundamental to who we have become and represent a significant leap forward. But, designed languages did not just appear from a eureka moment for one of our ancient ancestors.  Our languages are in fact a culmination of a process going on for ever. Languages and life have evolved together. We are the beneficiaries of language legacy. But there is something else in play here and for the moment I want to turn to it.

It may seem to be over-stated, unless you have given it some thought, to claim everything can be tied to a system, even thought, decisions and especially design. 

In simple terms there are two types of systems, natural as in ecology and designed as in all aspects of society including designed languages. Anything with form and function is or is part of a system as in technology and art. 

We are living systems as we are comprised of different parts making us a whole living entity. As man, woman and child we are part of both the natural system and the designed and built human societal system. It is very difficult to identify anything existing outside the concept of system and to complicate the matter further most systems are within and part of other systems.

I stated earlier there was no eureka moment when language was conceived. Similarly for systems and yet both have been core elements to our success. Our ancestors used both to advantage for hunting, gathering and safety or protection. Gradually they learned about design, making and organizing and realized systems could be created by employing language to do so. The rest is history.

Now back to our senses and brains. Together, with the rest of our body parts, we are highly complex living, walking, talking and thinking systems. We receive data, filter it, process it, store it and as necessary retrieve it for a plethora of reasons. 

Over the past century-and-a-half we have learned a great deal about how our brains function and what parts do what tasks. We are still learning, but one realization we have come to is the importance of language in our development and in all we have created. Indeed, without designed language we might not have realized the degree of success we achieved, initially, hunting and gathering and most recently with civil organization, cultures, science and technologies let alone anything else. 

Now designed language of our ancient ancestors is not the same set of designed languages we use today. But, what they did use to communicate was the beginning. They realized, intuitively, symbolic representation could convey meaning. Charades comes to mind. Body language including facial contortions sends a message. Gradually the symbolic representations expanded through more sophisticated sounds and scratches and then drawings. These in turn would have morphed into early vernacular language systems. These language systems and our brain capacity grew together in complementary fashion. 

Driving all this development was a growing ability to design and that is where I will turn next as I can hear some guests are beginning to arrive.

First to arrive was the United Church Minister. Mellie and Sarah were going to take turns greeting people at the door and then escorting them up to the warehouse apartment where Greg would welcome them to his building and place of contemplation. With no one else in sight Mellie lead the Minister up to the apartment and through into the courtyard where Greg was patiently waiting. He  immediately stood and came forward with his hands and arms stretched out to give the Minister a hug. He thanked Mellie and guided the Minister to the area set up with chairs and small tables. Mellie turned and returned downstairs arriving just in time to allow Sarah to bring her editor and the ‘street person’ up to Greg in the courtyard. 

Greg was equally enthusiastic in his greeting of these next two guests and introduced everyone before telling the new arrivals what he and the Minister had been discussing. Sarah in the meantime had repeated Mellie’s path back down to the front door. No more guests had arrived so Sarah and Mellie compared mental notes, in particular wondering about the disheveled guy they had admitted. Sarah described the scene in the courtyard saying Greg had greeted the man quite warmly, almost, she thought, with affection.

Two more people were now approaching the building and they seemed to know each other as they were already in animated and jovial conversation.  It was Mellie’s turn and as she thought two guests was a good number to lead to the courtyard she got them through the door quickly and lead the way. They continued their conversation all the way into the courtyard and Mellie determined they were car Mechanic and Nurse. Their relationship seemed to revolve around cars. 

By the time Mellie returned to the front door, Sarah was just starting to guide three more guests to the courtyard. They had introduced themselves as Librarian, Volunteer and Farmer. 

The guests expected had almost all arrived. Mellie started to wager in her mind who was going to be last. She was quite confident she would be correct and when Sarah returned she put the wager to her. Sarah accepted and said she thought the Scientist would be last. Mellie countered with the First Nations. In fact they were both wrong as one after the other, the Scientist, the Politician and First Nations were next. Mellie took them up saying to Sarah as they left she would not come back down as there were things to do in the apartment for the guests. 

Finally after some wait the  Sporty Person arrived complete with back pack and wearing hiking boots. He apologized for being tardy saying he had just returned from a canoe trip and only just got back to town. Sarah replied it was OK and that someone had to be last and if he followed her she would take him to where the other guests had assembled. As she climbed to the apartment she thought of all the guests this one was the most intriguing. 

As they arrived in the courtyard Sarah could see Mellie was already passing out trays of hors d’oeuvre, including slices of the bread Sarah and Mellie had baked. Leaving the sporty person with the group she returned to the kitchen and began filling wine glasses. So far she thought it seems to be going according to the plans Greg had worked out. Soon she knew Greg would get everyone’s attention and the weekend would be underway.

As Sarah returned with the wine she could hear Greg asking for everyone’s attention. When the talk subsided, Greg welcomed everyone again and then outlined briefly what would happen over the next few hours. 

“For the rest of the afternoon and evening I hope everyone will relax and you will get to know each other. I will say more about the rest of the weekend a little later on, but for now please enjoy each other’s company and conversation. In a few hours or so food for the dinner will be made available and it will be up to you collectively to decide who does what in its preparation. I look forward to tasting the group’s effort. If you require anything ask Mellie, Sarah or myself and we will do what we can to help. So, for now please enjoy yourselves. There is lots of wine, beer if you prefer and snacky things including this wonderful bread made by Sarah and Mellie earlier today.”

Greg then chatted briefly with the Mechanic and Nurse before making his way through the guests and into the kitchen where he began to open it all up. Mellie and Sarah made sure everyone had enough snacks and began to participate in some of the conversations.

Even though Sarah wanted to chat with the Sporty Person her curiosity won the moment as she saw the Disheveled man slowly make his way toward the passage and turned into it toward the kitchen. She followed a few paces behind thinking her excuse would be to make sure this person had everything he wanted. As she emerged into the kitchen area she was shocked to see a kitchen she had not seen before and the Disheveled person perched on a stool at an island table in conversation with Greg who was somewhere in the wall. As she approached it became clear Greg was busy in a larder room placing food items on a trolley.  

“Well, what do you think young lady?” asked the Dis Person. “Do you approve of what you see?” 

“Oh, yes! Oh, I don’t know. I have not seen the whole kitchen before,” said Sarah

“Greg has been hiding it from you has he? So Greg is this the inaugural revealing?”

“Yes, I guess it is. Haven’t had an occasion yet to show off your handy work.”

“Well, I suppose your little weekend puzzle is as good a time to open it all up as any other get together. Any glitches so far? Does it all work as planned?”

“So far it seems fine although I have had it opened out fully only two times. This is lucky number three. You two mind giving me a hand to get all this stuff onto the island and the counter?” asked Greg.

Sarah looked at the trolley now and could not help saying, “There is enough to feed an army.”

“Yes, well what we don’t use will either go back out to the farm or the food bank. I did not know what ideas people might come up with for a dinner so rather than be short on ingredients I have tried to cover as much cooking territory as possible and then let the peelings fall where they may.”

In a sort of random way Sarah started to unload the trolley onto the island. With no apparent order to her efforts the Dis Person suggested maybe spreading things out a bit more in categories. He suggested it would make selections easier when preparations were underway.

Greg had returned into the larder and was rummaging around for more stuff. 

Sarah took advantage of the opportunity to ask, “Did I hear correctly earlier? Did I hear Greg say this, ah, kitchen is your work? You had something to do with building it?”

“Ah, I was wondering if you were going to pick up on that slip of the tongue. Yes, along the way I made a few suggestions but, as far as I know Greg and a few of his pals were the builders.”

“That is almost true.” said Greg on returning to the island. “His few suggestions were in fact architectural drawings of the kitchen and the components. This kitchen is his design.”

“And this is the first time you have seen it?” asked Sarah.

“Mmmm, yes, I don’t get up here very often. First time in a while so it is nice to see it completed,” said the Dis Person.

“I suppose it is time to invite the others into the kitchen so we can get on with meal preparation. I’ll go encourage them to make their way in here and then we can decide what to do for dinner.”

“And what do you do young lady, apart from making bread?” asked the DisPerson.

“First just call me Sarah. I am a reporter for the paper and my editor is one of the guests. I have not been doing it for long and they just throw newsy items at me and I go and report on them. That is why I am here. I had to cover a talk Greg gave and after interviewing him, sort of, he asked if I would like to be part of this weekend, as a helper. I am also going to take a few notes as it may prove to be interesting and worth an article.”

As Sarah spoke her eyes moved around taking in more of the kitchen as it was now configured, but she kept coming back to the DisPerson’s hands. Hands had always been a body part she enjoyed looking at. She often thought a  lot could be learned about someone by looking at their hands. Were they manicured and well cared for or rough and nicked? Did they look strong or weak? Were they tanned or pale? Was there dexterity or did they seem to be all thumbs? She found them fascinating and then enjoyed trying to guess more about the person to whom they belonged. 

When Greg had been leaning on the island before returning to the courtyard to invite the guests into the kitchen Sarah had noticed a similarity between Greg’s hands and the Dis Person’s hands. She thought it was a curious coincidence but, also knew sometimes she saw more in hands than there was to be seen. 

She now heard voices approaching and realized the guests were starting to enter into the kitchen area. Greg lead the pack and resumed his position at the island while everyone else spread around. Last to come in was Mellie and the Sporty Person. 

“Ok, so now the fun starts. This is where and when you lot have to get it together to prepare our meal. I think there is enough quantity and variety for you to come up with an interesting meal. There is no rush, so take your time, look at what is here discuss it and figure out what is to be made and who is to do what. Sarah and Mellie will keep you well lubricated. I can show you where things are located and how to use them if they need to be turned on. Just so everyone can see who knows their way around a kitchen and preparing food for a few people, raise your hands. Ah, good, a couple. Well, I will leave you to it and won’t be far away. The kitchen is yours.”

Silence. The animated chat that had entered the kitchen was now replaced by the distant sound of town noise. The Farmer and the Minister, the two who had raised their hands were now having a look at the piles of ingredients. Neither volunteered any suggestions and no one seemed to want to take a lead. There was a call for more beer and wine to which Sarah and Mellie responded by indicating where the beverages could be found. 

The Nurse then asked, “What does everyone want? It looks like we have lots of choice with all this stuff.”

The Sporty Person said, “I could go a pizza with this beer. Where does this beer come from? It is mighty good, a lovely hoppy character.”

Mellie said, “Greg makes it.”

“I could make up some salad from all this stuff,” responded the Minister, “but I am not very good at making pizza. In fact I would not know where to start with the base.”

Then her editor put a question to the DisPerson startling Sarah with it. 

“You know something about cheffing. Is there enough here to do pizza?”

“Mmmmmm, yes I think so. Yes, I think we could do some fine pizzas if everyone pitches in unless there are some other suggestions.” 

No one suggested an alternative.

“Well, then, give me a minute or two to work out what we can do and we will get started. Sarah, could you find me a pen and some paper please,” and with that the DisPerson dove into the larder on the hunt for something. 

Everyone just kind of stood around chatting or wondering what he was up to. Mellie thought he was very familiar with the space and in a few minutes he returned with a small plastic bag containing some light beige granular substance in one hand and in the other an enormous stainless bowl. Sarah put the pen and paper on the counter near the DisPerson. 

He then called out, “Greg, where are your unlabeled beers? I know you have them somewhere but, I can’t see them. I know I would like some and maybe some of these folks would like to indulge in more of your handiwork.”

As the DisPerson finished Greg reappeared from the courtyard with a tray of used glasses followed close behind by Mellie carrying the almost empty plates upon which the snacks had been distributed. 

“So, you want to get into the bubbly do you? You didn’t find the bottles because there aren’t any. I am doing my beer only in kegs now. Got tired of washing bottles. It is dispensed from the larder. Put in an extra feature just so I can keep the beer at the right temperature. I suppose I neglected to show the girls how to dispense the beer. What are you up to?”

“Got to make some bread dough for the pizza bases. I am going to get it going and someone with clean hands and a kind heart is going to kneed it. Then I am going to work out what kind of pizzas we will have and the rest of these lovely people will be cutting and hacking the stuff up. Maybe someone can go with Greg for the beer. I am parched.” 

The sporty person piped up to say he would do that task and as he made his way toward the larder quizzed everyone whether they wanted some. Only the Minister declined. 

In the meantime Sarah noticed the Mechanic had inched his way out of the kitchen area and had drifted over to a corner where Sarah now saw what looked like a grand piano. Greg returned to the kitchen area just as the mechanic started to play it in what Sarah thought was a hesitant unfamiliar manner. 

Greg immediately followed the sound striding over to the Mechanic. His body language suggested he was not happy with the Mechanic, but in fact when he got to the piano he put his hand on the Mechanic’s shoulder and spoke to him quietly so no one could hear. 

“I was hoping you might find the piano. It has been very lonely since Rose died. I keep it tuned and play it a bit, but really Rose was the musician as you know. Please, get comfortable a glass of lubrication will be winging your way any moment. I would love to hear it played well once again.” 

“Thank you Greg, I would be honoured to play Rose’s piano. I don’t think I’ll soar to her level, but I should be able to make it sing. I can’t cook but I can entertain a bit,” said the Mechanic

As Greg turned to return to the kitchen Mellie passed him with two glasses of beer. 

“Got to keep the entertainment happy,” she said. 

Greg countered with, “I quite agree.” 

As he entered the kitchen area he saw the DisPerson had a measuring jug of yeast starting to come to life with the Nurse by his side listening to some instructions on what to do next. She looked very determined with a wooden spoon held firmly in hand ready to tackle the bread dough. Greg scanned the notes the DisPerson had made and saw there were going to be six pizzas. Probably enough he thought. 

He said to the DisPerson, “Put what you do not use back on the trolley so I can show one of these avid helpers where to put it all. Give me a shout when you have sorted it. You know how to use the oven?” 

“Yeeeeees.” 

“Just checking, didn’t know if you had forgotten.” 

“Nooooo.” 

“Good.” 

And then Greg heard the piano and he stopped and had to close his eyes. The memories began to flood his head. He was all fogged up and teary eyed and decided to just let go and be with his memories. He turned and leaned with his back against the counter just listening to the mellow tones coming from the hands of the Mechanic. Needless to say and as Sarah saw, he was overcome with deep emotion. 

Then, she saw his eyes suddenly open wide as he turned his head toward the music, now a piano accompanied by the hum of a woman’s voice. Greg was not the only one to hear and respond to the lovely sound coming from the alcove corner. A few with nothing to do at the moment, shuffled out of the kitchen into the larger sitting area off which the piano was located. 

Greg also made his way toward the piano but stopped short and turned his attention to the fireplace. Sarah watched him assemble some paper and kindling and light the paper to start the fire. In a minute it was roaring and in no time at all it seemed to Sarah there was a warmth spreading into the room. 

She was amazed to see Mellie leaning on the piano humming away with her back toward the gathering audience of guests. Then the words started and Sarah recognized the song, a Billie Holiday classic, “God Bless the Child”.  

Greg thought, two beers, this is going to be a fine weekend. 

As the song ended, everyone clapped and cheered and then as the noise subsided they heard the DisPerson ask for some help to prepare the pizza toppings. Both the Minister and the Editor along with the Care Giver returned to the kitchen area ready to cut and hack under the watchful eyes of the DisPerson. 

The music continued as the chef and his helpers got on with preparing their meal. The musical duo were now joined around the piano by all but one of the rest of the guests. Some joined in as they were clearly more familiar with music while others were just happy to be close and to listen. The singers sang and the clappers clapped. 

Only the Scientist drifted away preferring to scan the collection of books Greg had arranged on shelving climbing up and down the posts scattered around the apartment. She found it to be an eclectic collection shelved in no particular order. She guessed Greg would know where each book was located and then wondered how much responsibility Rose had for the collection. 

The musicians were now, it seemed to Sarah, moving into a more folksy genre of well known tunes, just good simple music for group singing and Sarah thought they were doing a fine job.

Greg had made sure the fire was burning well, had put more wood on and then drifted back into the kitchen area. Sarah followed and when she got there had asked if there was anything she could do to help. The DisPerson responded by saying two of the pizzas were almost done and more would soon follow, so getting plates and knives and forks out would be a good idea. 

“You do not seem to have lost your touch,” said Greg as he pointed to a cupboard where the plates lived and then to jars filled with cutlery. 

To Sarah he said, “Put them on the trestle table by the window and we can do a sort of help yourself arrangement and sit where you want.” 

“I suppose it is like riding a bicycle, you never forget. I must admit this feels good. Need to do it more often,” said the DisPerson.

“Any time you want to use the kitchen you know you are welcome to get all floured up.”

“I know. I’ll think about it. Well, chefs that’s two. Get the other four in and we can eat in about fifteen minutes. Keep these hot Minister in the warming oven so they can all go on the table at the same time. I’ll just do a dressing for your salad. Hey, Sporty Person there are some empty glasses over here,” pointed out the DisPerson.

Sarah was making mental notes about the DisPerson. Her curiosity had been piqued. Who was this guy and what was his relationship with Greg? She wondered if there was a story her somewhere. 

With the pizza odours wafting about the apartment the guests in the piano corner were drifting back into the kitchen area. 

While ‘music is the food of love’ thought Greg, primal stomach pangs win out, at least for the moment. 

With everyone’s glasses newly filled with lubricant the pizzas were ceremoniously delivered to the table. 

With everyone around Greg said, “So, in no apparent order, dig in and as you relax and eat I want to say a few words about why we are here together for this weekend of mystery and discovery. But first, I think we should thank the chefs for their labours.” initiating a chorus of “thank you’s”, “well done’s” and “smell’s wonderful”.

Once Sarah filled her plate she looked for her Editor, found him alone in one of the big leather chairs and went over to have a quiet word. 

“Hi, so far so good I am thinking,” she said.

“Yes, I think you are correct. Greg seems to have invited a very interesting mix of people for whatever he has planned,” replied the Editor.

“Oh, I don’t think you will be disappointed with the agenda. Maybe the sleeping accommodation might test your endurance, but it’s only for one night. I have a question or three and somehow I think you may have the answers.”

“Oh, well then ask away.”

“When you arrived you seemed to know the DisPerson. Who is he?”

“Ah, I suppose you have not been here long enough to come across our most well known street person. Or, maybe I need to get you reporting on the more sub-urban side of life. Our DisPerson fell from grace about ten or fifteen years ago, didn’t have a job, his wife left in the wake of someone else going west and he landed on the street and it seems chose to stay there except for the odd flurry into normal living. I met him when he was cooking at a charity event about ten years ago and occasionally we meet on the street.”

“What do you mean by fell from grace?” asked Sarah

“Oh, nothing sinister or anything like that. I think he had a falling out with the people he worked for, got fed up with the attitudes of paying customers in the high end circles where he worked and simply decided not to do it any more. Without any other game plan he simply drifted onto the street and somehow has found a comfort in it. I am not sure how Greg got him to come on this weekend event, but here he is and I am glad to see him here. He is really a very knowledgeable guy, just displaced.”

“Speaking of Greg, I have noticed a familiarity between him and the DisPerson. Am I right and do you know what that consists of?” asked Sarah.

“Well, apart from designing the kitchen, which I did not know about, our DisPerson is Greg’s dad,” said the Editor.

“Ooookaaaay, I wasn’t expecting that. Never thought of that although now that you say it I did recognize a similarity in their hands. So, why isn’t he living here with Greg? Lots of room, comfortable surroundings.”

“I do not know. You’ll just have to ask him,” said the Editor.

“I guess I will,” said Sarah.

“So, if I can have your attention I would like to say a few words about this weekend, but first I want to thank my dad for organizing the food with able assistance from the Editor and the Minister.” 

An enthusiastic applause ensued along with bows from the three chefs. 

“I also want to thank the Mechanic and Mellie and all you wonderful noise makers for the music. Personally, it was wonderful to hear the piano singing.”

“There is more for whoever wants to indulge and I believe a desert will follow. If coffees are desired that can be provided too. For more beer or wine just ask the Sporty Person. Now I am going to keep this as short as I can because you are here tonight to enjoy yourselves and the company of others.”

“In the explanation I gave you some weeks ago,” Greg continued “I made reference to language as an enabling tool and remoteness as the consequence of buffered language and exclusive design. Well, I actually believe it is far more complicated and this weekend is intended to go  further with the concepts behind those two statements. I also said we would be doing some camping, but I did not say where. Some of you may know I have a farm, but no one has been to it, not even my dear old dad. Starting tomorrow morning that is where we will spend the rest of the weekend. In a very short time I hope you can begin to appreciate it.”

“Currently I am scheduled to give ten talks on the subject of this weekend. Just now I cannot possibly set out those talks in a comprehensive account so you will fully grasp my thesis. This will not even be an adequate introduction. Still, I need to say something and hopefully it will be enough for you to get the gist of what I am thinking. So, yes this weekend is about language and remoteness. As regards language it is about the universe and the neutrino and everything between. Remoteness arises when we lose touch or are prevented from touching. The reason I have organized this weekend and why I am giving the talks is because I perceive a looming crises caught up in both language and remoteness. I hope this weekend will help to spread my message.”

“I do not believe I am exaggerating when I say language exists everywhere in the universe, in matter and in life, as the fundamental basis upon which existence has been made possible. Language enables the life process to happen naturally. It is the glue holding everything together. Consider these examples:

All life requires food and the language of life finds it, identifies it, consumes it and retrieves the nutrient benefits from it and then excretes it for other life forms to make use of the ‘waste’.

Life employs various methods of sensual language investigation for security, space/time identification and for procreation all essential for life to survive. Consider these examples: bat sonar; bird song; frog ribbit; coyote howl; scat and urine markings; bee dance; flower colour and pollen; body language; and so on and so on and so on.

One way or another life communicates with other life in various ways and to different degrees of sophistication.

For humanity the degree of designed language sets us apart from the rest of life. Chronologically it is difficult to say exactly where, why and how designed language came into existence, but it did and with it humanity has designed a myriad of  concepts, systems and items. Consider these examples:

Our brains and bodies function throughout with language.

Humanity has designed complex symbolic languages based upon the use of sound and visual presentation to communicate ideas. 

A designed language names and defines concepts for those who understand the concepts and language to explore, communicate and record for others to employ.

The human brain utilizes designed language as a tool aid in stimulus recognition, memory retrieval, thinking and knowledge development. 

Humanity has used and continues to use language systems to create other systems  upon which civilization is based and functions, all of it. 

Language is a critical requirement for balanced education and societal growth and function in terms of retrospective, theory, practice, experience and management.

Designed language enables and directs change. Change does not always happen easily or quickly and responds to better, broken or crisis as described by language. A perfect current example involves all the issues and consequences surrounding the slow drip crisis of climate change.

Designed language enables insight, but can also, as a buffer, cause remoteness.

“So, that is the best I can do in five or ten minutes. I am sure you have questions and comments. I hope you do anyway and I encourage you to challenge me and each other over the course of the weekend.” 

“I have tried to design the events to draw out, to test and to demonstrate my theories. I believe if our senses are open we should be able to recognize the theories in the events and in our responses to them.”

“Whatever you take away from this weekend I hope you spread your thoughts to others and maybe the results will help to put into perspective the things happening around us.”

“So now, please enjoy yourselves with music, games, books or just with chat and relaxation. And now I need another beer and I challenge the Care Giver to a game of Crokinole.”

Greg then went to the larder, got his beer, went to check on the fire and made his way to the games corner hoping the Care Giver would follow him  or already be there. As he rounded the corner he saw First Nations setting up the Crokinole board. 

“You don’t look like the Care Giver,” Greg said. 

“No, I had to buy her place here by fetching for her one of those delicious baked apples the DisPerson prepared. Is it your maple syrup?”

“Yes.”

“Thought so.”

As they prepared to battle on the Crokinole board Greg could see the Mechanic and Mellie had returned to the piano. Soon the music resumed giving a sense of luxury to his apartment, something he had not felt for some time. The scientist was looking at book titles. The Politician and Farmer seemed to be in animated conversation complete with giggles. The Librarian and the Minister seemed to be lingering around the food. The Care Giver, Editor and DisPerson seemed to be cleaning up, a welcome but unnecessary gesture as he had organized with Sarah and Mellie to help later on. The Nurse, Sporty Person and Sarah he now saw had all made their way to the piano. That could be interesting he thought.

“I see you know how to play Crokinole. Any preference for scoring?” Greg asked.

“How about two out of three with games to 100. The game score after each round determined by the difference in our scores.”

“Sounds good to me.” 

Greg then thought First Nations must be in a league somewhere to come up with a scoring system stated so quickly and succinctly. I may just get my clock cleaned he thought and then pondered where that phrase came from. 

“Tan goes first?” he said. 

“OK,” and First Nations proceeded to slip his first shot into the centre hole. 

“Nice,” Greg said, “that looked like a routine shot.” 

“Yah, that went in nicely. Always a good way to begin.” 

“So, this is a regular past-time for you?” asked Greg. 

“Yah, got to make a living somehow.” 

“You're joking?” Greg questioned. 

“Well, maybe not a living, but it does pay for the beer.” 

Greg now knew for sure he was up against the wall. Odd games now and then would not prepare him for a beer fight, and he was already supplying the beer. It was a no win situation. He had wanted a calm chatty game not a crokinole duel. Oh well, lets see if I can at least not disgrace myself. He slipped his first shot past the posts into the centre circle partially blocking First Nations from having a straightaway clear shot to the centre hole. He then had a moment to look up and listen to the music group having a lot of fun with Beetles classics. He thought the piano vocal jam was going along very nicely and realized Mellie had a fine voice indeed. 

First Nations next shot from the left side was slightly off the mark as he left the piece overhanging the centre hole. 

Greg realized this was a critical moment in the game. Go for the centre, a very doable shot by just nudging First Nations piece and dropping into the centre hole, a bit like a basketball shot off the backboard. Or he could bounce the piece over to between the posts and have his piece block the other access. That would leave First Nations with no clear shot to the centre. He figured the only way he could compete with First Nations was to fill the centre area and maybe catch a break. Congestion was the strategy as he knew he could not match First Nations with target shooting for the centre hole. What he did not realize was just how good First Nations actually was in Crokinole. 

First Nations banked his next shot off one of the posts to have it end up in the centre hole, like coming in the side door. 

Greg now realized the congestion strategy was going to get him nowhere. He had to get some points on the board to narrow the gap or this game would be over in one round. His shot came up short of the centre hole, however, succeeding only in blocking himself from having a clear shot to the hole. 

First Nations then made it even more difficult for Greg as he moved one of the pieces into the gap on Greg’s right side leaving the more difficult left side open. Whether he wanted it or not congestion now seemed to be First Nations strategy given his commanding lead with two bulls eyes. With more pieces entering the centre circle or falling just short after their next few shots Greg felt he had little choice, so he blasted into the milieu to see if the illusive break could be manufactured with a bit of luck. 

No luck, by the end of the round the game was over as the score difference was well in excess of the required 100 points in favour of First Nations. 

First Nations then commented, “Too bad treaty negotiations could not be as straight forward.” 

Greg responded, “So, you are advocating treaty by crokinole?” 

“It would be a lot less expensive and could happen much more quickly. No lawyers, no big expense accounts, a definite decision and a beer to boot.” 

“But what if you lost?” Greg asked. 

“Greg, we have nothing to lose. You cannot lose what you do not have to lose. We can only gain something back of what has already been taken from us. Crokinole would put us on an equal footing unlike the current out of balance situation we face.” 

As they prepared for the start of game two Greg pondered his realization he really did not know enough about the First Nations predicament and further realized he could not empathize with them. Certainly he understood the psychological impact of loss and the will to retain what has been attained. Generally, he reminded himself, people are reluctant to give up something they have worked hard to acquire. Indeed, life generally seems to be reluctant to give something up unless there is no more value in it because it is broken, there is something better or a crisis demands change. 

Then a thought and question came to his mind. He put it to First Nations: 

“You talk about loss and gaining something back, but I am not really clear what you mean or what you want to achieve. Is it financial compensation, is it about acquiring actual land and environment or is it something else, something much more esoteric and wrapped up in memories and stories from your elders and ancestors?” He almost added some lame comment about returning to conditions existing before Europeans landed some four hundred years ago.

First Nations listened to Greg’s question and then spun a crokinole piece as he thought about how to answer. He knew this was not going to be easy and he wasn’t sure just how to answer in a way Greg could understand. The issue was huge from his perspective and a sound bite answer would never do it justice. He knew it was something you had to live with, to live through to be able to fully grasp the reasoning and desires of First Nations peoples. 

He started by saying, “Imagine, if you can, incremental genocide or to put it another way, enforced assimilation by theft and denial or even virtual death by cultural tsunami. There are different concepts useful in describing what happened and still happens to my people. In the end we were not strong enough or resilient enough to stand up to the different ways and different diseases forced upon us. Indeed, while some of our elders warned against dealing with the strange white people, others embraced what they thought were opportunities. They could not possibly anticipate what was going to happen, that they were about to be swamped. Death by a thousand lashes you might say. But, and this is so important, our people have not forgotten the values and attitudes at our core and today we recognize there are fundamental differences between our core values and the values of modern society. While we must exist to some extent within this modern society, our people want to do it on our own terms, according to our values. Still we are being denied the opportunity to do so. Our struggle continues to involve finding ways to live by our code of values within a society driven by a different code. So, yes there are land and financial components to our demands. We need those resources, still being denied us, to rebuild our people so they can be strong enough to exist within and contribute to modern society.”

“Much of what we lost has been lost forever and much of the legacy of personal damage to our people lingers on. We know repair and reconciliation is a multi-generational endeavour and we also know it has been made more difficult to achieve because of the road blocks in our way. Our journey has been a tortured one with mixed results at best. Some of our people have climbed out of the quicksand, but others are caught in it up to their necks and some, too many, have gone under.”

“You paint a bleak picture.” said Greg.

“It is bleak. Our people lost their children and many of the children lost their dignity and identity. Our traditional ways were gradually made less possible as the early ancestors to modern society spread across the landscape. Few listened to our complaints as the industrial goals and objectives, values and attitudes won out. In effect we were cast aside as a nuisance and a deterrent to progress. The best Indian was an unseen and unheard Indian. Today in some circles the errors have been recognized, but when our schools are underfunded, when our communities do not have clean drinking water, when there are few jobs and little training, when the same mistakes are being made surrounding resource extraction it should be no surprise to find we are still upset, still ignored. Walk in our shoes for a while and then tell me what you think.”

Greg considered this last comment and thought no wonder there is bitterness and severe disappointment. He wondered why there was not more of it. He also recognized what he considered to be a classic case of ‘remoteness’, a society blind to its impact upon another or in this case involving First Nations maybe it had been deliberate. 

“I also want to say something about your earlier introduction to the weekend,” First Nations continued. “I agree with you about your assessment of the importance and place of language. My people have recognized for a very long time language is everywhere in everything. They would say, however, ‘There are many tongues. There is only one language.’”

“Ah, so are you saying there are many variations of the theme ‘language’? Are you saying all language has the same root and the variations are similar to what might be called dialects?” asked Greg.

“I think you are getting too academic and laboratorial. Dialect as I understand it  suggests departure from a standard and the question then becomes ‘What is the standard?’ For us the standard is the language of life, the root language to use your word and it is everywhere for life to hear, see, smell, touch and taste. There are no dictionaries for this root language nor structure for how it is expressed. You only have to listen to the great cacophony of language in the spring swamps, fields and forests to appreciate its ubiquitous existence. All the actors are playing their parts, some silently, some with colour, others with scent and still others shouting out their messages all combined in a great wall of language. If one is tuned in to what surrounds there will be a realization, everything has meaning. There is little waste as it is used and reused as required. Even the wreckage perpetrated by humanity and in particular by modern societies will eventually be used.” 

“Our people lived within the language, we were a part of it and harboured no sense of retaining dominion over it. Yes, we did have an impact by shaping the landscape, in some areas more than in others, but essentially our people lived in harmony with our environments. The tsunami of immigration changed all that and just as a tsunami can be incredibly destructive so the values and attitudes accompanying the immigrant tsunami changed our lands and environment on a huge scale creating the closest thing to waste possible, dead zones. In a living environment there is no waste and I suppose that is the key, it must be living to be able to recover and renew. The problem over the past few hundred years of destructive behaviour has combined huge industrial scale with single minded determination, values and attitudes (greed, acquisition) suggesting the necessity of environmental rape and pillage and apparent unlimited resources. Unlimited until the limits are breached and crisis results. It has all been done because it could be done. Very few asked if it ‘should’ be done and even fewer listened or did anything to stem the wave. This is where our sense of loss originates.”

“I don’t know about you First Nations, but I need a break and I don’t think crokinole is going to do it for me,” said Greg.

“Nor for me and besides I already have the beer so beating you again would be a bit anti-climactic and an unnecessary stress on your ego.” 

“So kind. I think I will drift over to the music, check the fire and see how the others are doing,” and with too much swimming around in his head Greg rose leaving First Nations with his beer and a growing smile.

The music group had definitely slowed down and were in the final stages of finishing as was the fire. All the others seemed to be in slow motion and Greg knew soon they would be seeking out their cots. With a quick goodnight to everyone and a reminder of an early start Greg made his way to his bedroom and the back stairs. He still had a couple of hours of preparations ahead involving a trip to the farm to check on his planned puzzles.

This will be a good time to further reflect on the process of stimulus-thinking-response as exercised by our sensory and brain systems, but also need to check on treasure hunt preparations for the weekend to see if the preparations are as I left them. Don’t want any clue breakdowns.

Before I continue my train of thought about systems, a quick note about First Nations’ comments. His comments about living with and in language were excellent. All life, other than humanity, takes what it needs, but by default stays within the limits of what is available and necessary. In that there is a balance of natural rights and to respect both the balance and the rights ensures a sustainable existence. Language and values are at the heart of such a system. Around the world, time after time, immigrant and dominating humanity has ignored the balanced environments and values of indigenous peoples in their quest to amass wealth and power. We continue in the same vein today with our values, attitudes and beliefs leading the way in greater and greater exploitation. I have heard it stated, “When we finally deplete the resource (fish, good soil, timber, it does not matter what) we will just move on to something else.” The notion of balance and rights has given way time and again to egos living outside language and natural systems as First Nations explained.

Last time, I spoke about systems, concluding it is very difficult to find something that is not part of a system, natural or humanity designed. In effect, if it exists it is part of a system. Natural systems, that is not designed by humanity,  are naturally developed and would exist quite successfully without any involvement from people. Prior to the onset of civilizations that is exactly what happened, natural systems thrived and humanity mostly was a minor influence. Gradually over many millennia the circumstances have changed with humanity’s influence increased. Now humanity has global impact. Our many designed systems have varying degrees of influence on natural systems and we seem to be adding to or varying these  designed systems regularly, subsequently involving more consequential influence. 

I want to step back a little now and pick up on the stimulus-thinking-response process because I did not finish discussing it and more important because at the end of it response involves design and as I indicated above we design systems. 

STR is an extremely complicated process with tons of flexibility involving different parts of the brain. A core faculty involves memory. As data arrives through our senses the information is assessed against memory and then filtered and filed in appropriate parts of the brain available then for retrieval as required. 

Memory is constantly being accessed and renewed as we go about our daily and nightly activities, all part of STR. This stream of activities requires a constant output of thinking and decisions. Some of the thinking is what we might call intuitive ending up as a gut response. Very little analysis goes into forming this type of response because from memory of experience we know what is required, almost instantly. We do not have to think about it in any analytical way. Again Daniel Kahneman writes about this  in his book, “Thinking, Fast and Slow”. The “slow” part involves a much more considered response and takes more time. 

All that is clear. What I want to explore in more detail now is the nature and purpose of the response, whatever the response might entail. 

We make decisions concerning all sorts of things on a more or less constant basis. These decisions have purpose and usually involve some kind of action or lead to further thinking. Prior to our decisions our thinking process, incorporating memory and languages, designs a response. We then act on the design created. As recorded this process is far too linear and simplistic. Many other influences on our thinking arise during the brain’s gymnastics in the STR process.

Our designs represent parts of or add-ons to systems, natural or human created. In one sense our naturally oriented designs and decisions are no different compared to decisions made by other living entities. Life has to do natural things. We depart from other life forms when our designs involve human systems ecology. Now our designs are oriented toward functioning within and extending the systems we have created. 

We are getting close to the farm if Sally’s tail and ears are any indication.

Early on in the history of humanity, design innovation and progress was glacial. Certainly not surprising as few people thought beyond the moment. There were no hubs of innovation and maybe most important with few designs available to incubate creative ideas people did not have the time to devote to something new, something untried. 

Eventually three innovations did occur: primitive languages were becoming more and more available and used; social organization began to adjust for various reasons taking on shape and function more recognizable as human; and primitive tool design and manufacture gradually changed improving on previous designs. A fourth innovation involved the thinking and design processes occurring in our brains. Remarkably, these changes were occurring in similar ways, but to different degrees in various locations as humanity migrated around the globe.

Hand to mouth was no longer accepted as the only way to get by. Exactly how, where and when these early changes occurred is uncertain, but they did and set humanity on a unique course of innovative development. There was a long way to go.

Always amazed how enthusiastic Sally gets when we come to the farm. Now, I have six preparations to check and need to get the lamp to do so. Although there is still some light it won’t last much longer and there will be virtually none in the woods. A full moon would be helpful. This should not take long, but need to do it rather than find out later the preparations had been destroyed. It will take about an hour and it will give Sally a run too. I can check the cows while I am at it. Better take a rake just in case.

So much innovation occurs today many have lost touch with how the process works. To be very economical describing the process, it goes something like this: ideas foster ideas. Designers stand on the shoulders of previous designers and their designs. We borrow from collective memory and innovation to design new innovations for old and new problems. With improved methods, processes, tools and thinking innovative ideas come to the fore. We design with purpose and objective in mind. Then it was primitive with relatively low impact. Now it is highly complex and the consequences have become progressively more influential.

I cannot go much further in this thinking about response and design without discussing quality. It is a concept lingering in the background along with values, attitudes and beliefs. These four concepts actually play a very significant role in focusing and shaping the purposes and application of our design decisions. So before looking at a range of designs being used today I need to set the scene concerning these four influences.

The cows seem to be fine and the preparations in the first field are as I left them a week or so ago.

Quality is a concept. However we employ the word it is tied up with ideas and definitions as are all words and symbols in designed language. Yet quality’s definition is not easily pinned down, not in a grand set of words. Yet, I know a cabinet of quality when I see it, the overall design and jointing exude excellence. Similarly, I have preferences for high quality urban settings. There is something present in the arrangement saying this is a space of quality. I know beef farmers know what they are looking for in a cow for breeding purposes, same for dog breeders. The list goes on and on. All different situations, but all appreciating or looking for quality and the qualities are all different or maybe not. I will consider this in more detail later as I think there are at least two levels of quality, very focused on something specific or broadly sensed.

Ah, the second set of preparations seem to be in order. No adjustments needed here so on to the next.

Is quality then an emotional response? Surely our conclusion, something has quality, is an assessment of the traits of whatever it is we are considering. Do our brains, in receiving stimuli, naturally look for quality? Does quality exist outside concept and therefore, is independent of language and definition? Is it simply a feeling and can all life forms recognize quality? Is the notion of quality learned?

If I put out two bales of hay for the cows, one inferior and one superior, there is no question about which bale the cows will select first. A sunny warm day for a turtle on a log or a frog on a lily pad does not seem a whole lot different compared to someone lying in the sun on a beach chair. In effect life is choosing and it would seem is choosing quality traits. 

We can enjoy quality moments and we can create them. A wonderful concert when the members of a band or a symphony orchestra achieve great execution and presentation is also enjoyed by an audience. Someone ‘in the zone’ may be in a quality moment. All producing or seeking quality, but what is it really?

Lots of questions and not many answers, yet to be able to go on and talk about design and choice in a meaningful way I need something more than ambiguity. So, I will start over and consider some real options as far as they go and see where it leads.

Here is the third preparation and I think it needs fluffing up a bit, so I will rake a few more leaves and bits onto the pile and get some air in there. Must remember to make sure everyone does a tick check. This will be the easiest task no doubt, but then one never knows what will go through their minds. Good, that should do it. Now a quick visit to the other three preparations and off to bed.

Certainly as I said earlier, quality is a concept. As a concept it is tied to designed language, but its presence cannot be discounted as a core element in the Language of Existence. It seems to be recognized both analytically and emotionally. Whatever the circumstances being considered, the notions or concepts of goodness or excellence seem not to be too far away, and yet here again I am confronted with ambiguity. Quality can be created and enjoyed simultaneously or after some time lag as in the appreciation of a piece of art or a good music recording. 

I have used the term ‘Language of Existence’ to name a prior condition for matter and life. In using the term I suggested it involved primed conditions of attraction and fit enabling and compelling separate entities to come together. Is this quality waiting to happen or driving to happen?  

Previously I suggested someone could be ‘in the zone’, a state of mind, maybe a quality of mind. 

In making an assessment of the presence of quality we reflect upon what we recognize whether it is a previous set of circumstances or an anticipation of circumstances. While the quality is in the event, in the moment, in the space, however fleeting or prolonged it might be, the recognition of quality arises in our minds as a concept tied up with designed language, values, attitudes, beliefs, memories, experiences and knowledge. 

Is it a floating concept waiting to be grasped, an a priori condition sought by our minds as an ideal to latch on to. Then too, my mind is not your mind. My quality is not your quality and neither is my recognition of quality the quality you might recognize. 

We, therefore, also need to consider scale and determine for whom quality is considered. The Canadian Oxford Dictionary defines quality “as a good attribute or characteristic”. In “The Timeless Way of Building” Christopher Alexander refers to “the quality without a name.” Pirsig in the end states quality is tied to goodness and various writers have employed the phrase ‘goodness of fit’ to describe the quality in arrangement. I repeat, quality is not easily defined and however we define it other concepts influence our assessment and emotional response. That is what I want to talk about next, values, attitudes and beliefs. 

The other three preparations look good and Sally and I need some quality sleep. So, back to the warehouse, make sure everything there is as it should be and hit the sack.

Chapter 5

Greg was up early, before the sun in the early morning pinky light and touch of condensed damp. It was one of his favourite times of the day, a time of renewal and fresh vigour. 

He had returned from the farm relieved his puzzle plans were as he had prepared them. Now he had to turn his attention back to his guests and their morning fixings.

So as not to disturb his slumbering guests Greg had planned to use the outdoor fireplace and oven to make breakfast. He and Rose had relished this combination of wood fired cooking facility and warm hearth for just such occasions of early and relaxed outdoor social meal preparation. He had both lit and the coffee pot almost boiling when Mellie touched him gently on his shoulder, slightly startling him as he had not heard her approach. Sally was with her. He did not expect to see Sarah until later as she had agreed to return to her flat giving up the bedroom to the Minister. Indeed, everything went according to plan, but Sarah did not leave alone.

While Mellie had been focused on the music, getting into a zone with the Mechanic, sometimes singing and at others sharing the keyboard, Sarah had been focused on the Sporty Person. With the sun just beginning to inch its top radius above the horizon, throwing sharp morning light across her bedroom, Sarah was waking with the feel of an unfamiliar arm weight across her breasts. She knew she had to get up and get going, but she also thought how nice and comfortable is this. She rolled toward the Sporty Person for a brief more intimate cuddle. He responded in kind. She knew it would go nowhere.

Mellie wore just a long T-shirt with all sorts of famous quotes on it such as E=MC2, “Use it or lose it”, “The times they are a changing’”, “I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now” and “Crisis, what crisis?”. 

“What can I do?” she asked. 

Greg suggested she finish making the coffee, still to be roasted, and then use the trolley to bring cups, plates, cutlery, cheese, jam and maple syrup into the courtyard while he made pancakes and heated up croissants. 

They got on with their tasks. The early morning cooking odours were glorious wafting around the neighbourhood with some entering into the apartment tickling the noses of some of the guests. First to emerge was The Minister. 

“A wonderful morning Greg and to wake to such smells makes it all the better.”

“Good, I hope you slept well and are ready to get on with my little experiment, after eating of course. Are any of the others moving around or do I have to strike the triangle?”

“Oh, I think the triangle might be fun. Tell me where it is and I would be happy to have a go at it,” said the Minister.

“It’s in the kitchen. I hang dish towels from it so you may not have recognized it as a triangle. Sure, have a go and we’ll see what effect it has on the rest. Do you want a croissant while you are doing the deed? Oh, and I think Mellie has got the coffee ready. Pancakes are coming along and bacon I’ll start soon. Also, there is a fruit salad.”

“You have been busy,” observed the Minister.

“Got to feed the troops. From here on it will be up to you lot.”

As they chatted Mellie did indeed push the cart toward them full of breakfast stuff. She was followed by The Editor and The Farmer. 

“Coffee and tools for everyone” she said, “and tea, juice or water.”

“Not to mention educational clothing,” offered The Editor. 

“Your T-shirt gives me an idea,” said the Farmer. “I should have one made up with farm equipment on it. In fact, T-shirts with all sorts of subjects could be fashioned.”

“I think others are ahead of you,” said Mellie. “When I got this T-shirt there was a selection of various subject shirts. I just happen to have an interest in famous short quotes and the philosophy behind the phrases.”

As they chatted the triangle was heard and shortly after others came into the courtyard in different states of wakefulness. Soon the level of chat and the noise accompanying eating picked up. Greg considered breakfast a success, but wondered about the absence of Sarah and The Sporty Person. He was beginning to think asking Sarah to return to her apartment overnight was a mistake when the two late comers quietly slipped from the passage to join the breakfast crowd. Soon, with everyone fed and watered, Greg thought it was time to get the show on the road. He motioned to Mellie and the two re-entered the apartment to haul out boxes of items he had acquired for the weekend. 

He said to her, “So, we now need to clean up and then get on with our games. Any questions?”

“No, I think I am clear about what will happen, at least until we get the two teams started on the treasure hunt. Just how they will accomplish the tasks you have fashioned is anyone’s guess. It should be fun. It will be difficult I think to stand back and not help them. I guess I’ll have to play it by ear.”

“Sounds like a plan. Now, lets get cleaned up and get these people ready. Maybe get Sarah to help collecting the breakfast stuff and I am sure the others will get the idea and pitch in. While you are doing that I have to go and get the bus for our travel to the farm. I’ll be back in about half-an-hour.”

Greg took one of the boxes downstairs as Mellie returned to the courtyard to start collecting breakfast stuff. As Greg had thought soon everyone was helping and most were taking turns trying to read the T-shirt quotes and to debate who said what. Mellie had researched the connections but, preferred to stay quiet rather enjoying the discussion and in some cases the wildly wrong guesses. 

By the time Greg returned everything was back in the kitchen and most of the stuff had been cleaned and put away. He asked everyone to get their stuff together and gather downstairs by the bus where he would explain the first event. Soon, they were assembled as requested in various states of attire in anticipation of a very warm and sun filled day. 

“If I can have your attention” Greg started, “we’ll get this show on the road, literally, except you are not going to be able to see it. You’ll remember I mentioned life depends upon sensory awareness. Well, I am going to take one of your senses away, your sight,  as we travel to the farm. As we travel I want you to feel the trip and when we arrive at the farm I want you to briefly describe the journey and try to guess where the farm is located. Here I have masks without eye holes. Everyone gets one and when you are in the bus I’ll ask you to put them on. This is not a competition to see who is able to figure out the route of our journey. Rather, consider it an opportunity to focus on the environment of our journey with your other senses, senses we may not fully use when our sight dominates. Everyone will experience the journey differently. And please, no peeking. Just relax, enjoy the ride and try to perceive through those other neglected senses.” 

Greg then invited everyone onto the bus handing out masks to all but Mellie and Sarah. 

With luggage stored and everyone in a seat, Greg said, “If everyone is ready, please put on your masks and we will get going.”

This was a mechanical journey for Greg. He knew it inside out and backwards. Parts he enjoyed, especially when the countryside started to take over. There were also parts of the journey he sincerely detested. Once he had driven the bus away from his building, in a short while they entered into one of those areas. His response now was subconscious whereas when he first started travelling through the area his reaction was visceral. Yet, even though the subconscious effect was like having a set of blinkers on, the area triggered a quality response. He had concluded many years previously, for him anyway, there was no demonstrable quality. And now he felt, he knew, it was highly symbolic of the degrading influence of humanity’s hubris. Maybe he thought, just maybe these excesses will become the nemesis to humanity’s over-indulgences. 

The problem though he thought to himself, to grow beyond the moment of retribution one had to recognize the cause so as to change habit and he was not sure humanity with all its economic and financial wizardry was up to it. He was reminded of Charley Chaplin’s film, “Modern Times”. People were on a treadmill and they did not know how to get off, indeed, he felt they did not want to get off. 

He knew once something of perceived value had been acquired there was a reluctance to give it up. There was reticence about diving into dramatic change. Small incremental adjustments were acceptable because they were little felt. Raise the temperature .1ºC and no one will take any notice. One new technological toy amounts to just one more of a plethora of such toys. If there is an upgrade available and there is more power in it, humanity will go for it. If we don’t have to get out of our cars to order and receive our coffees and burgers or donuts then great we are making progress. But, Greg felt, the modern language of acquisitive had lead to a remote society. 

As he drove with his lot of blind passengers through this area it struck him as ironic. They would be listening for and imagining streets, at least in part, with people moving about. In fact they were all hidden away one way or another in buildings or in vehicles scurrying about. Oops, he thought, almost fell into the technological personification trap. Looking around to see a person was like trying to find the last onion in a weed infested garden. 

He thought how triggers set off rants, repeatedly, and wondered if there would be triggers at the farm for any of his guests. 

Finally, the countryside was close. He recognized the familiar diminishing development, scattered buildings and at the same time growing presence of fields and woodlots. Would the blind passengers be able to distinguish the leaves rustling in the breeze and the rural summer odours from the noise of the bus and the edge of town? He did not think so and felt if they were recognizing anything it would be by the seat of their pants. 

Mellie had travelled this route only twice before, but from a little distance away from Greg’s apartment she asked herself why these areas had to all look and function the same. On her travels across the country she had seen many locations that were just ugly variations on a theme of crass commercialism catering to lazy people in a rush to somewhere, maybe.  

Even in her home town now there was a dead area. No smiles to enjoy, no eyes to ponder, no little people shouting and laughing playing games and having fun.  

Of course people were in the buildings beavering away, but there just did not seem to be any real connection between the inside and the outside, not visually anyway, She felt these areas were cousins to airport runways with food hangers on the edges. Just people moving through, not wanting to linger, knowing very little was in the area for them. 

These were not the sort of places, if you could call them places, people went to experience the wonderful design and building capacity of a lost era. Walking here was a chore not a pleasure. You certainly did not come here to people watch or to enjoy a spontaneous casual conversation. 

She actually felt a shiver go up her back and then thought the blind passengers were fortunate as they did not need to see it and would in effect be transported from Greg’s apartment to the farm, a La “Scotty, beam me up”. What a cool transition and thought maybe it would be good to close her eyes and enjoy the experience too. Stop thinking, just listen and feel. She sat back and immediately felt better.

Sarah was still asking herself, “What was I thinking?”  I don’t even know the guy  and he did not push himself on me, I invited him, that’s the worst of it. Why? Admittedly he is a bit of a mystery with all the outdoorsy aura given off. 

She remembered responding to his late appearance thinking he was the most intriguing of the guests, but really it has not worked out that way.  And what is appearance anyway, she wondered. What is underneath the skin? In the end that is what is important. 

He didn’t say much. He wasn’t fawning all over me. In fact, now that she pondered the previous evening, it was clear he was probably more interested in Mellie. Or was it the music? She did not think he contributed much to the medley of songs the Mechanic and Mellie produced. They really were very good she thought and certainly Mellie seemed to be far more interested in the music than the Sporty Person. 

Was I in some sort of primeval competitive mindset? She admitted sex was not and really never had been front and centre in her life. A fling or two along the way was all there was. They were always short lived and this fling was going to fit the pattern. That was the retrospective view. Why did she not see it before? What blinkers was I wearing she wondered? Hormonal? Stupidity? 

For sure she was going to be sociable over the weekend, but no more shacking up. Indeed, she thought one of the reasons for being here was to observe and write something for the paper. Don’t think the editor would appreciate an expose of Sporty and myself in the hay. 

Get focused girl she thought. Start thinking about what Greg has set up and what he is trying to accomplish. I should have been circulating and digging for angles last night she thought, not trying to get someone in my bed. God, I hate that part of town. Who goes there anyway, she wondered. Out of it soon she knew and looked forward to the calm and what she perceived to be, simplicity of the landscape at the farm. She closed her eyes, thought about the farm, took three deep breaths and felt better.

With the mask on and his eyes closed the Sporty Person was glad he did not have to see the ugly townscape he knew was the part of town they travelled through. He felt good because it allowed him to revel in his favourite exploits over the past month. He really had not had much chance to reflect upon the places he had been to and seen. They were not spectacular in the grand sense of scale. If anything they were quite the opposite, small scale and even micro. 

He was now eager to look at the few pictures he had recorded and add the best to his growing collection. He then thought he needed to give his collection some thought. It was good to have the collection, but to what purpose? He wondered about publishing some of it because he was confident it was good enough and he thought some people would be interested in the photos and the stories behind them. He needed a theme, filed that thought and then wondered what last night was all about. 

He genuinely enjoyed the music even though he did not consider himself musical, but then thought he was quite good at distinguishing bird song and could actually replicate bird calls. It was fun communicating with bird life making sounds to which they responded and came looking to see what other birds had invaded their territory. He had recognized over time natural languages were everywhere and if you knew what you were looking for or listening to the signs were there for the perceiving. 

He then asked himself if the previous night was another example of natural language. Of course he enjoyed it, but he knew that was the end of it. The beginning and end all wrapped up in the same night. Slightly awkward in the morning and a rush to get back to Greg’s. Now in the company of others he felt it would be easier to slip away from Sarah not that they were together. Two ships in the night and all that sort of stuff. Two people on very different trajectories. Indeed, he wondered if Sarah had ever roughed it in nature. He thought it would be interesting to see her try to cope with a snow hole overnight in sub-zero conditions. 

On the other hand his gut told him Mellie had been there and done that. 

He then thought the farm weekend would be a good opportunity to relax and be with people in an environment he was comfortable with. He wondered if he would recognize the farm location as he knew most of the rural landscape around town and was beginning to sense the bus was in a modest climb. We’ll see he thought.

The Care-Giver sat thinking two things simultaneously: Why am I here? and This mask is helping me understand how my blind clients exist in this visual world. And then she thought: Why do I always call them clients? Sounds too legal somehow, somewhat distant and professional. Maybe I can find another word. And what am I doing going to a farm for the weekend? Why did I agree to this adventure? What was I thinking? I know Greg can be persuasive, but going over-night to his farm to do what I don’t know. I miss my bed already. Although, I must admit she thought, it is good to have a break and to know the cell phone is not going to ping at me. 

It took some organizing for sure, but she did it with help from her colleagues and just to relax, well she had to admit it, yes she actually was looking forward to the weekend and if last night was any indication she thought it could be fun. The food was good, probably had to much, again, she confessed to her inner self and thoroughly enjoyed the music and conversations. Common ground with the Nurse of course so that was easy, but what an interesting guy Greg’s dad. Those pizzas were certainly top ten, no top five. 

She wondered what had happened to drive him into the street, to forsake his obvious talents in favour of a self-indulgent pity. She recognized this characteristic because some of her clients, there’s that word again, demonstrated the same or a similar introspection. For various reasons they were no longer capable of giving, just surviving. She had helped a few break out of their funk and wondered if she might employ a couple of her tricks on Greg’s dad over the weekend. Probably not enough time. Worth a try though especially with someone who can cook like he does. Where the hell are we going? Find out soon I guess. 

With the mask on the Nurse was not distracted by her surroundings and so her mind drifted into a familiar subject, her teenage son.  She was concerned about him because she did not know enough about him. She had had to spend a good deal of her time earning an income to support the two of them and found him now to be a bit distant from her. She really did not know what he did with his friends or where he went. He seemed to do OK with school work, no he did exceptionally well with his school work and grades. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was she didn’t know what the problem was. There had to be a problem. All teenagers had problems didn’t they? So, what was his and what mischief was he getting into that he should not be getting into and was leaving him alone for two nights a good idea or not? 

Even though they seemed to live separately in the house, just being there helped her relax a bit about him because she knew he was just upstairs or in the basement banging away on his damn drum set. She often wondered what the neighbours thought and even though they never complained she thought they couldn’t be too happy about it, especially when some of his friends came over to jam. 

She had seen too many young people admitted into hospital with obvious drug issues. She knew the symptoms and did not see them in her son, but “You never know.” she thought. 

She then wondered when they had drifted apart. At the start of high school, upon reflection, she had begun to recognize an aloofness at least as far as their relationship was concerned. Or was she wrong and in fact he just drifted into other interests than what the two of them had together. Bound to happen she thought, as you meet others, grow up and acquire other interests. Can’t forget the hormones I suppose, although she had not noticed any particular gaggle of girls in his sphere of relationships. 

Then she wondered if the problem was her’s and not his. Was she too focused and therefore exclusive? She rarely spoke about her work because after a day of emergencies she was just happy to turn off, to leave it behind. Not sharing her life away from home though meant he was not involved with her, even vicariously. Maybe she should make the effort and acquaint him with what she did and he might respond by doing the same. Worth a try, get a conversation going. I think I want to be wherever we are going.

The Librarian was intrigued by the weekend so far. He was getting the feeling it was taking on the feel of a novel or a play. Different characters brought together into some storyline with an unknown conclusion and maybe some hidden to be discovered message. The reader, well in this case the participants, would have to stick with it, live the journey together and come out the other end of the experience and resume their lives or make changes. Will this be a life altering weekend? For everyone? For someone? 

It is the mystery we follow, the unknown we pursue, that is the fascination of a good yarn he thought. So far it is living up to Greg’s billing. Not sure about the masks, but it does mean we can be reflective. I wonder what everyone is reflecting upon, he thought, the moment or life issues.  

An interesting set of characters for sure and it will be interesting to discover more about them although he knew what was learned would only be a tip of an iceberg. He was certainly still willing to participate and was further attracted to the ideas Greg had put forward about the importance of language generally and its place in the whole scheme of things, that is “existence” to use his word. “Without language there is nothing.” An intriguing idea if there ever was one, but not sure what it all means in terms of this weekend. 

Certainly wearing masks has added another dimension or maybe more accurately the masks have quite effectively eliminated a dimension. Oh well, if I am correct, he thought, we are not missing much as the area outside the bus he thought they were / had travelled through was particularly unattractive and not an area he had ever stopped in. 

Then he reflected on the previous night wondering who were the snorers. At one time he had heard it in stereo and as a light sleeper it meant much less than a full night of sleep. Hopefully the sleeping circumstances will be better at the farm wherever it might be. Looking forward to seeing it.

The Minister definitely realized she felt anxious. She was good at recognizing moods and concerns in others and now, applying her discerning skill to herself, knew she was unsettled. She knew why, but could not relax. The mask was slightly uncomfortable, but she did not feel the mask on her face was an issue. Rather, it was what the mask did, that is taking away her sight. Vision for her was tremendously important and without it she felt somewhat claustrophobic and lost. 

As a child she had been lost in a strange place, had panicked making her situation much worse. The experience had stayed with her all these years and had resulted in a need to clearly know where she was at all times. Vision was the key, visible familiarity, the sense she relied upon. Now even though in a bus with people she knew, she did not know where the bus was or where it was taking them. She was feeling a bit lost but not in the same way as when she was a child. Then everything was wrong. Now, it was only partially wrong and if she had to a little peek would not be such a bad thing if it would help to settle her nerves. For the moment she felt it would be ok, but she also hoped the journey was almost over. 

She knew for some people the journey was important, that arrival was anti-climactic, but for her it was the opposite. She had experienced too many very difficult long distance journeys in her life. She craved familiarity and stability. She craved being there. That was what she tried to bring to her ministry, a sense of belonging, companionship and home with feet firmly planted in familiar ground. It was why she was very hesitant about agreeing to come on this weekend outing, but now as a participant she just wanted to be at the farm.

The Farmer seemed to display an effusive energy in a way suggesting she did not know what to do with the excess. It was a presence, the way she carried herself, her obviously strong chorded arms, the whole package really. She was most at home in her extensive garden planting, weeding, fixing, spreading manure and compost and a hundred and one other jobs. She just got on with it and reaped the rewards that were adequate, but that is all and ok because her needs and wants were simple. 

At this time of year she was reluctant to take time off, because she knew any time away from her garden resulted in having to catch up. So, she too was somewhat reluctant to come on this weekend although her curiosity had been piqued as she now wanted to see Greg’s farm and his garden and talk with him about his gardening protocols. 

For her the mask was an annoyance, nothing more. She enjoyed looking about when on the move, looking at other people’s property and their gardens. She was always on the lookout for good ideas, how she might improve her operation, make it more efficient and maybe a bit more profitable. This mask removed that enjoyment and she really did not see why they were wearing them anyway. Maybe, she thought, I missed that part of the introduction and explanation. Greg had a reason no doubt, but she did not grasp what it might be, not yet anyway. And then her thoughts drifted to the fellow guests and their varied backgrounds. 

She had enjoyed the chat so far, in particular her brief discussion with Greg’s dad about the quality of food chefs look for and the amount of waste that is inevitably created. Mountains of the stuff are generated he had said and much of it goes into the waste stream, although many practices had improved so the unused food went to food banks for example and some to composting, but not all by any means. 

In turn The Farmer admitted too much was wasted in the garden as she and others produced more than the public seemed to want to buy. Surely, she thought there must be a way of reducing the lost food from throughout the system including the home kitchen. She was interested to see how Greg handled waste and how much his garden generated. 

Now as the bus trundled on and with all the windows open she began to detect country odours, turned earth odours, the fragrance of some field plants and late blossoms. While she knew they had passed out of town their direction was a mystery. She wanted to get to the farm and start exploring.

The Mechanic had enjoyed making music with Mellie the previous night. He had not expected someone with such talent to be among the guests. For some reason, that he could not put his finger on, he felt Greg was surprised too. They certainly covered a lot of ground, jazz, pop, country, blues from different musical eras. He got so wrapped up in it he paid little attention to the other guests and what they were doing. He remembered Mellie had said something about coming from out east which fit with his understanding of the black music scene out there. 

During his musical career he had played with others from the East and they were always very accomplished and generous with their energy and time. Mellie was unusual though, he reflected. She had a way of phrasing and harmonizing that added much to the interpretation. He thought it would be fun to get her in with the band for a session. He felt they could just let her go and see what happened. You never know, he thought and then remembered where he was and where they were headed. 

Knowing exactly where they were headed was a bit of a guess, but he felt he had a good idea of the direction they had set off in. With customers scattered in and out of town, over the years he had become quite familiar with the road system. He expected to know where the farm was located quite soon after arriving and he felt that would be none too soon as the uncomfortable bus was, well, uncomfortable. He then thought he would need to socialize a bit more and find out who all the guests were. 

Really, he enjoyed talking with people and getting their take on general issues of the day and there were many not least in the way vehicle designs had changed. Good for business for sure. Gone were the times when someone could tune their car engines with a screwdriver. Now with everything computerized it was expensive to obtain the necessary diagnostic equipment and in the end he did not think the engines were dramatically more efficient, certainly not in line with the technological investment. He felt the modern vehicle to be a perfect example of an over-engineered piece of technology designed by people who were expected to include all the latest wizardry. 

Oh well, I have done ok by them designers, he thought, and then thought again about the music he and Mellie had created. If anyone had bothered to look at that moment, they would have seen a broad grin on the face of the Mechanic.

The Scientist had thoroughly enjoyed the previous evening chatting, listening to the wonderful music and browsing through Greg’s book collection. She particularly enjoyed how he had organized the courtyard creating spaces for little critters as she liked to refer to her microbiological family. The Farmer certainly seemed to have a good grasp of the importance of microbiology and the contribution it made to the welfare of the planet. As far as the general scheme of things though, they were anomalies. 

Few people realized the importance of microbiology and as technology had grown more dominant in everything humanity did, she thought we were now much more than arms length away from appreciating its role and value and unfortunately at a distance could not see the negative impacts of our actions. Maybe, she thought, that is what Greg was referring to when he talked about buffers and barriers. 

Oh, this mask stinks she realized. The smell was not unlike the smell from those she had to use from time to time to avoid contaminating samples. She did not like the smell of those masks and certainly did not like the one on her face. Just have to put up with it though. No peeking. Don’t want my wrist slapped and have the experiment fail, whatever its purpose. 

The Politician was having some difficulty getting into the spirit of the weekend. With her normal highly scripted and busy schedule she usually did not have time to devote to questionable events. She needed to know the purpose and have some idea of the outcome of events she participated in. 

For her image and the opinion of others was very important which is not to say, she mused, I don’t have an opinion or original thought in my head. Quite the contrary, she knew how hard it was to get to the top of the modelling world and originality was a significant element. 

Now as a politician she recognized many parallels and apart from her attractive appearance, time and time again she had to demonstrate her head was screwed on in the right way. Fiddling about with esoteric thoughts on language and playing sense games, for the moment anyway, did not seem to cut it. 

So, why did she agree to participate? Greg had been persuasive and deep down when she let it go, when she loosened control on her thoughts and actions, she was curious and what Greg had described made her curious. Despite her conscious uncertainties about the weekend, subconsciously she had a feeling it was going to be fun and fruitful. So far she had not been disappointed. The food was great last night, the talk interesting and the music wonderful. 

This masking in the bus was something else. Vision was important to her as she gained so much from others’ carriage and their responses to her, body language, she thought. She did not miss the big world outside the bus, but she did want to see those in the bus to see how they were responding. 

So far only a few words had been spoken. It seemed everyone was internalizing. She did not have a clue where they were or where they were going. She just wanted to be there.

The Editor had a nose for stories and seemed to understand what the readers enjoyed. Indeed, from time to time he would include somewhere in the paper or on the website a brief questionnaire inviting readers to contribute their ideas for the kind of information they were interested in reading about. The file of suggestions had grown over the years and now from time to time he would dip into it for something seemingly pertinent to the issues of the day. 

Greg’s proposal for this weekend had come out of the blue. It was not pure coincidence Sarah had got involved, however, as The Editor had sent Sarah to Greg’s book launch on the basis she might want to be involved with the weekend from a reporting point of view. He had manipulated the circumstances thinking Sarah might warm up to the idea of the weekend event and Greg would agree to include her in some way on the agreed basis she would write a piece or series of stories about it. So far so good, he thought, as long as she does not get distracted by the Sporty Person. That was unfortunate. 

Between hormones and a need for growth in maturity, he never-the-less hoped Sarah would put aside her sexual and scattered emotions to focus on the events and outcomes of the weekend. He hoped she would aspire to be a participating fly on the wall. Subsequently, privately, he intended to collaborate with Sarah on a few articles arising from the weekend. 

Over the years many young reporters had worked for the editor and then moved on. He knew some stayed with journalism and others dropped out. Of those who stayed in the profession some had done very well indeed. He was pleased when he could identify someone who had done well from his mentoring contributions. 

As for Sarah, he had a gut feeling she could end up being very good indeed. How exactly it would pan out for her was anybody’s guess, but he saw some of the raw ingredients and traits necessary. 

As for the location of Greg’s farm and his thinking and published work to date, well the Editor had done some homework. Admitting to himself and to say the least, he was interested or he would never have agreed to participate. Then too there were the other guests, each one having a personal story. He was always interested in a good story.

Greg’s dad sat in the bloody uncomfortable seat with mask on, eyes closed and a sense of pride for what he had accomplished over the years. Really, as he thought about it, he could easily identify two periods in his working life, a mainstream ‘chase the career’ treadmill and a tangential commitment helping street people have a better life, including helping them get off the street. Certainly, he could not have gone off on the tangent without his first career. Nor as it turned out could he have accomplished much without Greg’s secret involvement and support. As a silent backer Greg had lent support to his father, whether requested or not, recognizing the valuable work his dad was doing. 

He knew it was not Greg alone who had supported his cause for he knew Rose had been very much involved keeping an eye on what he was getting up to and anticipating his needs, sometimes before he realized them. Her death had hit him hard and even now as he thought about her, he felt a tear or two welling up. 

Part of the reason he agreed to come on the weekend was his way of saying thank you to Greg and Rose, but it was also selfish. Maybe selfish was not quite the right word. He was getting on in years and living a large part of his time on the street with his people was starting to take a toll on his health. He had a choice, to re-enter a somewhat conventional life and still help his street people, but from a different perspective or to stay with them and decline more quickly, in the end shortening his contributions. He was leaning toward conventionality as the thought of a comfortable bed was enticing, but his ideas about how to do it were not conventional at all. Again, Greg had something to do with his thinking and this weekend seemed a good opportunity to explore some of the possibilities and opportunities, at least theoretically, with Greg and the other guests. 

As he now thought about the weekend, he had been so wrapped up in his life, he did not even know Greg had a farm much less where it was located. He was eager to abandon their secret relationship and explore and revisit the father son thing. Greg seemed keen to do so and had hinted, strongly there could be opportunities for him to live and work with Greg in a more obvious and open manner and continue to help his people. We will see he thought. And then he wondered where Mellie had come from into Greg’s life. We will see.

First Nations sat perfectly still with eyes closed and a vertical up-right posture. He was taking this bus ride opportunity to clear his mind for the weekend journey. Indeed, he saw life as a series of interconnected journeys and had realized many years ago to get the most from them one had to be absorbed in them. A cluttered mind got in the way of sensitive intimacy for the circumstances as they unfolded. Of course his mind would not be a blank. Instead he would attempt to bring to the forefront those thoughts and ideas he anticipated would be useful. The conversation he and Greg had the night before would be available, especially the reference to the fundamental importance of language. 

He now believed Greg had manipulated their conversation. First Nations expected Greg knew a lot more than he let on. He was pleased with what he had said, but now in his gut he knew Greg had been there already. What he had said was not new for Greg, but thought First Nations, maybe it confirmed something for him. 

Anyway it was good fun and he knew from a crokinole viewpoint the crushing defeat was real. So was the beer, indeed a very good beer and if Greg is brewing it then there are parts to this guy we know little about. 

Maybe the farm weekend will be his way of demonstrating a message often lost in words. 

Now as they continued the bus journey, First Nations continued to exercise his other senses, the ones other than his masked vision. He listened trying to distinguish the fast diminishing hum of urban sounds, now being replaced by a countryside symphony. He wondered what the Mechanic would do with the sounds of the countryside. Odours were changing too and the familiar scent of the soil was beginning to dominate, especially farmland odours although he could also detect the distinct pungent odour associated with wetland organics. They had entered the lands of his youth and a smile formed in his mind. His outer countenance and posture changed little.

Sally lay on the floor of the bus between Mellie on one side and First Nations on the other just behind Greg. She had been thoroughly occupied the previous night visiting everyone to get a sense of them. Of course she did not know the plans for the weekend, but she did sense something different was going to happen. In the end the odours and calmness exuded by Mellie and First Nations were most attractive to her and was now quite comfortable between them with Greg in her view. She had not been on a bus before so did not really know what it was they were in, but certainly the lingering smells were interesting to her. The sounds and odours from the countryside they now passed through told her where they were headed. She felt good about that and laid out on her side with her head resting on Mellie’s foot. 

This drive is quite straight forward and with everyone masked and internalizing I will do the same and resume my thoughts. 

I implied, when I was checking preparations at the farm, quality is not perceived without a reference base. How could it be totally independent, have no references what-so-ever, when it is perceived as an assessment? The act of assessment can only occur with regard to our store of memory, experience and knowledge, in turn from the guidance of our held values, attitudes and beliefs and finally from the opinions of others. 

VAB’s play a central role in the process of determining quality, but not independently. As it happens, VAB’s and MEKs circle together in complementary orbits and together determine to what we pay attention. This dance does not happen in a vacuum. Indeed, the whole assessment process requires context. VABs and MEKs provide the conceptual context. 

There is also the matter of real time and change over time. As we gain memory, experience and knowledge the influence on our VAB’s changes and in turn our VAB’s are adjusted. The whole process is transitive especially early on, but as the years pass by becomes more stable, maybe entrenched in static thinking. This, in part, is why we become reluctant to change.  We become set in our ways and thinking. No more open mind. It is a circular process unless of course the process is interrupted, in effect broken, by a change in circumstances, maybe a crisis in context. 

As a circular process there is really no beginning and no end. The process goes round and round in expanding or diminishing shapes of influence reinforcing or shattering what we know with consequential influences on VAB’s, MEKs and our sense of quality. 

Each process for each individual is unique, however similar it may seem superficially. The daily uncertainties, the variables in our lives, each one of us confronts them along with the baggage of MEKs and VABs we lug about.  No two lives are the same. In turn this means everyone’s perspective is different. 

The context within which we function and manoeuvre about is somewhere between amorphous and rigidly patterned. Inevitably our personal MEKs are different and so the influences upon our VABs and ultimately our sense of quality are different. Still we do end up with similar convictions to others because combined influences upon individuals may lead in similar directions and to similar conclusions.

The contextual variables seem to be endless, but to convey a sense of what I am talking about here is a very short list: your place and time of birth and adolescence; the people with direct influence upon your life; the good, the bad and the ugly of your  experiences; the books you have read; the journeys you have taken; the jobs you have worked in; serendipity; and so on.  Making our MEK baggage even more varied, we tend to be very selective in determining what is or is not important. 

Even though our brains have great capacity for storing stuff, most of the raw information is filtered out, in one ear and out the other. What we retain tends to reinforce the MEKs and VABs already in our possession, but over time slippage of detail is bound to happen. It is all very uncertain and unpredictable. The process is circular, but in no way are the circles perfect.

Slowly as our MEKs are reinforced over and over again they begin to transform into our VABs, our convictions, the principles we stand by. As the VABs take shape in our minds we gradually begin to assess for quality according to the newly forming and solidifying convictions.

As they neared the farm all his thinking about quality and the ways we determine it started him wondering how the guests would respond to the farm. Surely, he thought, some of them would recognize quality in the landscape, the buildings, the amalgamation. He was curious and really wanted to hear what they thought.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are almost at our destination.” Greg loudly informed the passengers. “Is everyone having a good time? I do not hear much snoring so I am guessing most of you are still awake. Our ETA is about ten minutes, our altitude is about 375 feet and our speed is legal. Drinks and snacks will be available at our destination. I hope you have enjoyed your journey with ‘remote bus’ and that you will come and journey with us again. It is sunny and 25ºC. Have a nice day.”

They were now on the tree lined hard topped road leading to Greg’s farm. Every time he came along here he could not help but think the early settlers really must have had a sense of place, a sense of intimate ties to the countryside, a sense of beauty, but also a desire not to over-encroach their values on the lands around. 

They created these canopied tunnels and in so doing established defining boundary, edge separating roads from fields and giving shape to both. The enclosed sense of field rooms completed with leafy green walls interrupted the endless field. Indeed, they did not want exposed fields going on for ever. Their technologies, the farming equipment and practices could not cope with vast open spaces. The type of farming they practiced benefited from treed edge. 

For sure, it was an imposed grid pattern on the landscape, but from the vantage point of a hill looking out upon that landscape, one is hard pressed to identify the regularity of it all. In an undulating rolling countryside it is difficult to pick out square corners and straight lines even though he knew they existed.

First Nations sensed the change as the bus slowed to a crawl. Over the engine noise he was able to hear the rustle of leaves, he picked up the unmistakable odour of cedar and began to hear wetland birds like the ubiquitous red wing blackbird as he imagined it clinging to a cattail swaying in the breeze. 

Mellie had opened her eyes for this brief part of the journey. It was only her third or fourth trip along this road and so far the romance and beauty of it remained. The dark green, almost emerald, edge, the canopy and the dappled light mixed with shadow left her speechless. So soon and even though she had not formed an intimate relationship with this landscape, she detected a lump of emotion forming in her throat. As the bus came to a halt she took in the scene from her side of the bus, took a long deep breath and released a slow exhale. Now it was time for action. She rose to collect all the masks. 

Greg had turned off the engine and invited everyone to disembark and wait on the roadside. Although the road was narrow, he was confident no other vehicles would be along this way so the bus for the moment was not an obstruction. As he stood on the bottom step of the door so everyone could see him he explained what was to happen next. 

“Welcome to my farm. From this day forward you are welcome to come here any time. Over the weekend I hope when we are not playing the silly games I have devised, you will explore the farm and come to appreciate it, at least a little and if you wish to return please do, although you might let me know your intention before coming out here.” 

“Ah, I almost forgot, most of you do not know where we are located. Well, maybe you can chat about it amongst yourselves and figure it out. For those who do know please keep it to yourselves for the moment. Indulge my sense of play if you like and later on if little progress has been made on the farm’s location, well you will be free to divulge.” 

“Now to give yourselves an opportunity to adjust I suggest you divide into two groups one for each trail across the wetland and creek leading up to the farm house and our residence for the weekend. The two trails are marked by pink ribbons and your guides for this excursion will be Sarah and Mellie. Enjoy the walk and I will see you at the house.” 

With that said, Greg turned, ascended the stairs, started the bus and drove a little further along the road before turning right to go down the farm drive, equally lined with big old white, red and black oaks and further along turning into the farm yard a line of spreading maples.

Mellie then indicated she would be walking back along the road to one of the trails while Sarah would go in the opposite direction to the other trail to be found on the other side of the farm drive. She suggested they divide in half, one group for each trail and guide. 

Sarah started toward the trail her group would follow while Mellie retraced the short distance already travelled in the bus to find her pink ribbon. 

Now the guests had to make a choice, their first group decision of the weekend. They really did not have much information upon which to base their choice. Accordingly, some uncertainty prevailed although in the end the larger group was divided in two and they went their separate ways to patiently waiting guides. 

Sarah was actually pleased to see the Sporty Person had opted to go with Mellie. So too had the Editor, another relief. Her group consisted of The Mechanic, The Scientist, The Politician, The Librarian, The Minister and Greg’s dad almost all attired in proper footwear for a trail through semi-wetland. The Politician was the odd one out wearing heals and dress slacks. Sarah thought this should be interesting. Had she not been warned or had she just ignored the warning in favour of image? She made a mental note to engage The Politician in conversation to find out what sort of person was representing them in government. 

The trail was not difficult and damp in only a couple of spots, but as she remembered it from a quick walk, there were some interesting things to see. She hoped some of her tribe would be able to point them out and inform the group. 

By way of introduction when they got to the start of the trail, she explained, “This upland wetland is part of a much larger system eventually joining with other streams and creeks before emptying into Lake Ontario. This section running across Greg’s farm is really a wetland drainage link between the headwater and a creek a few hundred meters downhill. It runs all year and in the spring can back up to be almost completely flooded. So, we go this way. If you have any observations you would like to share with the rest of us that would be good. If anyone has questions just spit them out and we will see if there are any answers from among us. We should be at the farmhouse in about half-an-hour, so there is no real rush. Take your time and enjoy it, sense it, discover in it something you never knew. Off we go.” 

With that said, Sarah turned and slowly lead the way.

Mellie gave a similar introduction at the beginning of her trail, similar because Greg had provided a few notes of introduction and hi-lights. Her group, consisting of The Sporty Person, The Editor, The Nurse, The Care Giver, The Farmer, First Nations and Sally seemed to be keen to start exploring so she turned and lead the way into the trail. 

They left the shade of the trees passing through a distinct transition into the heat of mid-morning and an abrupt change in vegetation. No longer the familiar roadside dry land grasses and young emerging mixed understory. Along a slightly raised path they plunged into cattails and then dense willow shrub before arriving at a narrow, but rapidly running meandering and very clear stream where a short narrow bridge beckoned them to cross. 

They stopped on the path before and on the bridge leaning over the stream trying to see something floating or preferably swimming past. 

The Sporty Person and First Nations occupied the rear guard positions munching on cattail sprouts while discussing the availability and benefits of wild foods. 

“We are a little late in the season and the day for that matter to see much swimming about in there,” offered the Sporty Person. “If you come here in the evening though for an hour or so either side of sundown you will hear a cacophony of sound. It will be everywhere and anything that makes a noise we can hear you will hear.”

“What are you eating?” asked the Nurse. 

“Cattails,” replied Sporty Person. “Very good, seems First Nations here knows something about this area spending time here in his misspent youth.” 

“So, you know where we are located?” questioned the Editor. 

“Yes, I do, but I will keep this knowledge to myself for the moment in respect of our hosts request. If you thought about it though, I am sure you could make a good guess. You just need to think about what you see around about and remember what you sensed on the bus ride. I will add no more.”

“What other delicacies did you eat from here in your youth?” asked the Care Giver.

“Earlier in the season when the land floods, this is a spawning area, turtles rise from hibernation and lots of frogs begin to appear. Of course there is also the dry land animals, very plentiful if you know where to look. There are lots of wild plants too. Quite easy to get by for food. We would stay up here for days on end just eating what we could catch or find.”

“And I thought a wetland was made to be drained, at least that is what I was told as a girl by my father,” commented the Farmer. “He always wanted more land to plant and wetlands seemed to get in his way. I am beginning to think I need to re-visit his and my principles or lack there of.”

“Maybe we can move on,” encouraged Mellie. “I think our time out here is running short and mid-morning snacks await, if you are so inclined.” 

She turned and lead the way across the bridge following the path toward a pond seen at the end of the willow shrubs just below the line of maples. As they approached,  the other group of explorers could be seen on the far side of the pond climbing a small rise to leave the wetland and make their way toward the farmhouse. Mellie’s group chose to linger a bit searching the water’s edge for something to see. First Nations pointed out frog spawn, tadpoles and minnows satisfying everyone’s desire to see wildlife. They missed seeing a muskrat slip into the pond about thirty feet further along on the trail.

After parking the bus Greg completed a quick round of chores and had a brief scan of the garden to look for any animal damage. He was determined this year to prevent it from happening and had bought in low fence, hoops and covers to protect both the fledgling and more mature but vulnerable plants. Once they really got away he would not be so concerned. It was the tender stage when they were so vulnerable and needed to be protected. He did not see any obvious damage and thought he could have a closer look later on when he planned to adjust the watering system. He then headed back toward the farmhouse to bring out mid-morning snacks and while doing so continued his exploration of language.

In this thinking I want to  look at VABs in some detail because they not only influence our perceived sense of quality they also have significant impact upon the decision-making designs we churn out. VABs are at the core of our principles and conviction systems. 

Before launching into VABs a quick word about systems is required to set the context.

A system is a designed and developed collection of parts organized to achieve a purpose. A system will work well as long as the design is well conceived and the parts function as intended . If a part malfunctions or for some reason is eliminated the whole system could be put in jeopardy and may break down unless adjustments or corrections are made. 

In practice systems are constantly being tweaked in various ways for a wide variety of reasons. To illustrate this, here are some systems to consider: a chair; a climate system; a human body; a brewing system; an education system; and the heating system at the farm.  Not surprisingly, any one of these systems and any other system considered, can be analyzed in great detail to determine effectiveness relative to purpose. What follows is a very brief consideration of just two of the named systems.

The main purpose of a chair is to support someone in a sitting position. The component parts include a seat, a back and some sort of leg arrangement. Seriously damage or remove any of those parts and the full purpose of the chair is compromised. Now the basic design of a chair can be altered by changing the shape of those components to, make them more comfortable  for example by adding arm rests, a rising and lowering mechanism and maybe something to swivel or tilt. It would still be a chair, but it has been tweaked and fulfils a modified purpose.

Our natural climate system functions within extremes and supports life. A designed climate system will also function within extremes, but maybe for comfort, to ensure a good growing environment for plants, to keep items cold to avoid spoilage or for a host of other reasons. Such a designed system depends upon the heating and cooling mechanisms and is regulated by some kind of thermostat. A malfunction in any of those parts results in the extremes being modified possibly jeopardizing the systems purpose. Further, expected and unknown consequences arising from a designed system may impact our natural systems locally, regionally and globally. We are now experiencing this consequence with climate change. A natural system is far more complicated, but the mechanisms are similar. Some parts heat and some cool. If the balance is compromised, the balance being the thermostat, then the system begins to fluctuate out of normal, maybe out of control. The degree of change will depend upon the cause and its capacity to absorb the influences and possibly alter.

A designed system can be redesigned whereas when we tweak a natural system it becomes less natural and more human designed. This scenario is largely what we are faced with at the moment. Our designed systems are detrimentally impacting the natural climate system. We know the causes, with CO2 and other Green House Gases being very influential. A great deal of tweaking of our designed systems is required to eliminate the causes. The need to change comes right up against, slamming into our values, attitudes and beliefs. Just one of the causes involves our mobility and the use of fossil fuels to power engines. By changing regulations we could dramatically reduce this cause in a decade, for example by: reducing motor size; changing the power source away from fossil fuels; putting a cap on vehicle weight; and by reducing vehicle dimensions.

Each system has purpose and in stating a purpose one is also suggesting a set of values and maybe referencing beliefs. For each designed system values can be determined and the values establish how we respond to change. Collectively we speak about climate a lot because it is so important to us. Without a suitable climate life can be put in grave jeopardy. Without a good education system available to all collectively we are diminished and our potential is not realized. All life requires nourishment and so we value it. We also value good nourishment and so good ingredients are important for creating the foods and drink we enjoy. Some are better than others of course and the results are dependent upon the skills of the producers and the equipment used in the system of production.

Definitely we are faced with a conundrum, a dilemma. Do we go on as before and just adapt as seems to be our collective choice in this era of an increasing frequency and strength of extreme climate events? It seems to me we need to ask ourselves a fundamental question: at what point do the changed circumstances causing climate change and jeopardizing the natural and designed systems upon which we are dependent begin to supersede and effectively exclude the values we hold to be important? Can we be complacent and rely upon, put our faith in others to sort it out?

I was going to try to set out a framework of values identifying the most important and then moving in order toward values of lesser importance. It did not take long to realize such a framework is a daunting task. Collectively we are so far removed from the forest, from our initial days of conceptualization and rudimentary design, the value and belief choices available collectively and personally are beyond identification in any meaningful way. 

Not all is lost however, as we are a methodical species and rather than setting out a rigid value and belief system imposed by a set of attitudes, in reality we employ a method of sequential association based upon our MEKs and VABs to figure out what is and is not important and how we should act. 

Individuals and groups have certainly tried to set out rigid value systems. To name just four, there are the ten commandments, the bible, the Koran and all the constitutions and bills of rights around the world. None of them are completely successful. We deviate from them on a regular basis. Even the people promoting and extolling the virtues and importance of those written value systems deviate from them. Why? Because their collective or personal sequential association of values takes them to another psychological place. Having said that, these stated value systems have been and continue to be useful by setting out some order for the masses. The problem lies in the fact we are not, thankfully, robots. We cannot be programmed in a binary fashion of 1s and 0s..

When push comes to shove there is really only one singular and indivisible value and from there on and very quickly I might add, we deviate into a wide variety of value and then design streams. The singular value is the Language of Existence.

Greg was aware of voices now and so put his thoughts to bed again. It was time to be a host and prepare this lot for their next challenge.  He greeted Sarah and her group as they entered into the patio area. 

“How did the intrepid explorers do crossing the wild wetland?” he asked.

“It seems they all have aversions to ‘squities', so they were not too keen on lingering,” said Sarah.

“Ah well, I suppose we will find out shortly if they got anything out of it. Thanks Sarah for leading them through.”

“Can I do anything to help?” asked the Politician. “Crossing the wetland wilderness has given me an appetite.”

“Yes, you can help bring the cups and plates in there out to here. I think everything else is under control. I gather you did not wait long enough to see the troll?” Greg teased.

“No, nice little trail and at another time it could be nice to look at the wetland a little more closely, but I prefer to do it with fewer bugs around,” said the Politician.

“So Sarah said. Ah, here come the other explorers. I wonder if they found it a bit more interesting.” 

As Greg watched the group approach there seemed to be a little more chat going on and he seemed to catch a comment about the farm’s location. He wondered if First Nations had disclosed what he knew.

When they were all assembled on the patio Greg again welcomed them to his farm, invited them to dig into snacks and said he would explain the next activity in a minute or so. But first he asked if anyone knew where the farm was located. 

There was no rush to the podium. Silence prevailed for a few moments and then the Sporty Person told the group First Nations knew the location, but was keeping the knowledge to himself. First Nations did not respond.

The Librarian then suggested the farm was located somewhere in an area spanning the Northwest to the Northeast of town on a height of land. He knew this because during the bus ride there was a sensation of climbing, going up and because he had a general knowledge of the Ridge from his motorcycle meanderings. 

The Scientist then pitched in her thoughts suggesting if a creek or river was downhill from here to the East then there were only two real possibilities as there were only two rivers running through the Ridge. Although she had not been in this exact location, many times her work had meant doing field sampling and she had been in both river channels

The Editor then relayed the fact First Nations had been on the farm property as a boy and so must have grown up in the eastern watershed. Therefore, he concluded the farm must be just west of the river on the East facing slope of the Ridge especially because to the North and south of the farm the land seems to rise higher. He then asked if anyone was familiar with the Ridge, enough to be able to pinpoint such a land profile. 

The Nurse then indicated two years ago she and some friends had gone to the river for a picnic and swim and thought they had gone along this road as she remembered a tree canopy tunnel going down to the river. Unfortunately she could not remember the name of the road or where it was exactly.

“Well, if no one can name the road I must congratulate you on figuring out this location so well and so quickly.” Greg said. “Adding up all the clues and yes you have figured out where this farm is situated even though being masked on the journey out here. Well, done. You all get yellow stars for your effort. Now relax and enjoy the snacks while I retrieve the props for the next part of the weekend. Mellie, can you give me a hand please?”

As they went into the house First Nations spoke to the Editor saying, “I gave too much away. After indicating my history with the land I realized too much had been said and thought the group would be able to piece the clues together. Now, I am very curious what Greg has planned for us. A pattern seems to be developing whereby Greg is determined to make us work together to achieve some tasks.”

“I think you are absolutely right. We will probably be mucking out his barn or some other disagreeable chore,” laughed the Editor.

Just then Greg and Mellie returned each carrying a box. As they put them down Greg began to introduce the next event. 

“In these boxes are the props you will be wearing over the next couple of hours. Before they are opened I want to say a few words of introduction. You may or may not have figured out I have organized the weekend around themes. Last night was social. The bus ride was intended to encourage the use of your senses, to get you thinking in a different way. Obviously, I had no control over what you thought about, but that you did think was my goal. This little exercise of determining where the farm is located was an attempt to get you to work together on a task. You proved to be better at it than I expected. Now, you are going to work together again to achieve four more tasks with I hope a fun result.” 

“Last night I spoke about language, senses and their importance. This set of tasks is intended to get you to explore language and sensual perception in more detail, in a more practical way. Mellie and Sarah will go with each group, the ones you formed back on the road. Each group will have the same set of tasks to accomplish, but the outcomes will be slightly different. At the end of your efforts the results will have to be combined to figure out the final message. So, this will be a sort of task oriented treasure hunt with a difference. The difference is in the boxes and you cannot open them until you are at the starting point. The twist involves your senses and your ability to work together, to support each other and to effectively communicate. So, when you have finished snacking, oh in about twenty minutes or so we will go for a tractor and hay ride to the far reaches of the farm from where you will then need to make your way back here doing the tasks as you go. Even though it is a warm day, I suggest you are covered up and in the box you will find insect repellent for those who need it. Any questions?”

“Where are our bags?” asked the Politician.

“Still on the bus. If anyone wants to change into something else you can do so in the farmhouse and of course if you need to use the toilet do so as you will be out on the land for two or three hours,” he suggested.

“Is this going to be difficult walking? I am not very good on uneven ground,” said the Care Giver.

“I have tried to select areas with a minimum amount of difficulty. The point of the tasks is not to test your mountain skills, rather to get you working together. Just how you do it I expect will be very interesting. You should not have walking difficulties.”

All but First Nations, the Sporty Person, the Farmer and the Greg’s dad went in search of their bags. 

“Have you been here before?” asked the farmer.

“No, I haven’t,” replied Greg’s dad. “First time out here. It may seem a bit strange, but I have been too self-focused I guess. Greg and I have been leading quite separate lives. I am keen to see this farm though and learn a bit more about what he has been doing.”

What Greg was doing just then was giving Sarah and Mellie last minute instructions. He explained the purpose of the equipment they would carry, but said also the groups might come up with novel ways of using it. However difficult it might be he encouraged them to act as sherpas, carrying but not volunteering ideas. He reminded them the first instructions were in the boxes and to make sure the notes accumulated along the way were not lost. 

“So, we get them over here, up on the wagon and we can get on to the farm’s end. Maybe fill up the flasks with water and you will find more water as they perform the tasks.”

Everyone piled onto the hay wagon and with some comfortably prone and others standing Greg started the tractor, an old Massey 135, put it in gear and they were off. 

Chapter 6

The short trip along the fence lined farm track took about ten minutes. For Mellie the ride  seemed to be over almost before it had started. She wanted to keep on going enjoying the views, the cows from a distance, the solid looking woodlot, the beaver pond and the tree regeneration, especially the tamarack and birch. She wanted to walk through and around the fields, she wanted to absorb it all, vacuum it up and wear it. 

The farm was split in two with a linear woodlot running down the middle for about two-thirds the length of the farm. Greg had taken them almost to the southern limit of the farm and had stopped at a path that seemed to slice through the woodlot. As he climbed down from the tractor Greg thanked everyone for traveling with Massey Air. 

“Now, please watch your step as you step down, bring the prop boxes and I have a few more words before you start,” Greg announced. 

“You will find a note of instructions in each box. I have also included some tips you can take to heart or completely ignore. I estimate you should be able to complete the tasks in about three hours. Sarah and Mellie will escort each group and they will be carrying the tools you need to find. Again the instructions will give you clues. Make sure the number on your box corresponds to the number on the stake. The stakes you can see from here, over there and over there. Finally, I suggest you take a few minutes to read the instructions and think about them. You will find you do better in the tasks if at the beginning you allocate the props to best advantage. I will leave you to figure it out. Everyone should have their prop on before you begin the first task. Now, I will leave you to get on with the treasure hunt. I will be weeding or chopping wood while you are having fun. I hope you can complete the tasks in a manner and spirit as intended. I will see you when you get back to the farmhouse. Come on Sally, lets get out of their way.” 

Greg turned and returned to the tractor with Sally choosing to stay on the ground and they were off rumbling along the track with the noise diminishing as they went. He stopped for a brief look at the pregnant cow and realized she was now very close to delivering her calf. Repeated checking was required over the next few days, he decided. A full moon had formed two days previously.

The two groups had moved to their respective stakes and were now pondering what to do next.

The Sporty Person in team Mellie was the first to speak and act. 

“Lets get this show on the road,” and with that he removed a knife from one of his many pockets and attacked the tape holding the box top together. 

In the other group the Librarian and the Mechanic were not far behind having opened the box only seconds after the Sporty Person had completed the task. 

Each group was focused on their boxes and it seemed to Sarah a sense of competition had already taken hold.

The notes of instructions in each box were in envelopes attached to one of the box flaps.  On the envelopes was written ‘instructions’ and ‘everyone should read’. The Sporty Person gave the envelope to the Editor and then proceeded to empty the box by turning it over and shaking everything out onto the ground. 

The Nurse then suggested the instructions should be read before going any further so as not to miss or lose anything. 

“It is a treasure hunt, not a race,” she pointed out. 

The Editor had opened the envelope and found six identical pages of instructions plus one marked, ‘sherpa’. He passed them around.

Team Sarah had started more methodically opening their envelope and passing out the instructions for everyone to read while leaving the contents of the box in the box. Gradually from both groups words of surprise and disbelief were to be heard. For some Greg’s earlier words about language were beginning to make more sense. Then for a few minutes there was quiet as most reread the instructions. 

Sarah then wandered over to Mellie to ask, “Do you have the same instructions as I do for finding the ‘tools’?”

They compared instructions and realized yes the stuff they were to cart around was all in the same spot. The difficulty was going to be finding the spot. The instruction for finding the ‘tools’ read as follows: “Natural pattern with common goal, reaching up from strength below. Hanging high suspended clear, turning slow from tied-off gear.” 

“I have a feeling this clue is not going to be difficult to figure out,” said Mellie. “We need the tools or at least may need the tools and Greg would not stop the tasks before they even got going. Having said that I also expect he did not want to just hand them to us. So, lets enlist everyone’s help on this our first task and see what we can come up with.”

“Sounds like a plan,” replied Sarah. “Hey, everyone can we have your attention.” 

The guests in the two teams slowly moved toward Sarah and Mellie who had met about half-way between the two groups. 

“Mellie has suggested we need to find the ‘tools’ before we do anything else and certainly before you don the props. So, does anyone have a suggestion about the clue for finding the tools.” 

This first collaboration was exactly what Greg had hoped for and it set a pattern the two teams maintained throughout the treasure hunt. Now everyone focused on one problem rather than trying to absorb and understand all the instructions in one effort. As a group they would now consider Greg’s clues in a methodical step like manner, almost. 

For a few minutes silence prevailed and then the Sporty Person offered, “Tied-off gear seems to suggest something is slowly turning at the end of a rope or something like that.” 

“Well, that follows nicely from the ‘hanging high, suspended clear’ part as together they suggest the stuff is suspended up rather than down,” noted the Farmer. “I mean you can’t suspend something in any other way can you? And if it is suspended, hanging, it is likely turning from rope tension and breezes, assuming it is hanging out here somewhere.”

The Librarian then noted, “Hanging high seems to be a relative phrase and for me it would mean I am below whatever it is that is hanging high. If I was above it then you might say it was hanging low,” he volunteered. 

First Nations then suggested, “The tools are probably hanging from a tree somewhere out of direct sight. Reaching up from strength below definitely suggests tree and in a pattern with a common goal suggests a forest. So, I think we need to look in there or maybe along the hedge rows. Look for something that does not fit the pattern of trees.”

“So, if we all go off in different directions, like the spokes of a wheel, then we will cover everywhere quickly,” said the Politician. 

“Great,” responded Mellie, “give a shout when you find the stuff.” 

Everyone dispersed as the Politician had suggested and soon the Minister gave a shout. Everyone turned in her direction and gradually made their way to where she was standing. The last ones to join with the others came upon a group of people looking up at something hanging, but no one was doing anything but look. 

“What’s the problem?” asked the Mechanic, the last to arrive. Then he saw it. The tied-off rope was about 5 m up a tree trunk. Had the tie-off slipped up the trunk or was this intended, he wondered? 

“Any ideas for getting this stuff down?” he asked.

Silence, something the group of guests were getting used to whenever someone asked a difficult question. This time the silence was a bit more prolonged. 

Greg’s dad started the conversation by saying, “Maybe we could build a pyramid with the lightest at the top to untie the knot.” 

“As I am the lightest,” responded the Scientist, “I want to make it clear I am not part of Cirque de Soleil. I will not be climbing up to untie the knot.”

“I don’t think you will need to as I do not think Greg would devise something to put anyone in danger like being up there on shoulders. My guess is there is a key of some sort with which we can release the knot,” suggested Mellie.

“I was thinking the same thing,” added the Sporty Person. “In fact I think the knot is loosely tied and it seems there is a loop if pulled would release the whole lot. So, what we need is a pole with a hook on the end. Unfortunately my knife is not long enough.”

“Is this what you need?” asked the Farmer. “I noticed it when I was walking over here from over there. It was leaning up against a tree. Not only does it have a hook, but presto, it telescopes. If I cannot shift the knot then one of you heavyweights can try.” 

She proceeded to extend the pole and tighten the sections so in the end the length was more than adequate. Although the hook end was a little shaky she managed to slip the hook into the loop and with a strong pull released the knot.

“Hang on girl, don’t let go,” warned the Mechanic. “If you do the pole and rope may end up caught in the tree branch. I think there is enough hanging length of rope to pull the knot end down so we can remove the hook, untie the knot and then pull the rope over the branch once the tools are on the ground.” 

That is what they did and in short order had the whole lot on the ground at their feet.

“Lets get this stuff over to the stakes and see what Greg has left us,” suggested Mellie. “You heavyweights can do the honours.”

“I knew size came in handy once in a while,” remarked Greg’s dad.

Everyone stared at him and then broke into spontaneous giggles and guffaws. Then as a group of a single mind, like a flock of grackles, they moved back to the stakes.

As Greg drove the tractor and wagon back to the house and garden he was trying to make up his mind, to choose the task he would do while the guests were working their way along the treasure hunt. He knew the garden always required tending, but in the end figured with Mellie at the farm for a couple of weeks she and he could accomplish a lot. Whereas with firewood, unless he brought in a log splitter, which he really did not want to do, he was the only one to use the axe. 

By the time he parked the tractor his mind was made up and so headed to the wood pile with Sally darting ahead to look for chipmunks and maybe stouts. 

Many years previously Greg had starting chopping wood with a small axe. It was not successful. The axe head was not heavy enough nor thick enough to really split the logs the way he wanted. It took a lot of energy and repeated swings to split even the easiest wood. Elm wood was virtually impossible to split. Then he acquired a six pound wedge axe and the difference was like night and day. Suddenly he enjoyed the task. It was still hard work but he accomplished so much more in a shorter period of time and was not so tired at the end. Indeed he figured using the axe was faster and more controlled than a splitter if only one person was operating the splitter. He did not have the noise to deal with and the only energy required was a good breakfast. Now he could tackle any wood, although anything with knots took a bit more thinking.

Over the years he had made his own handles and preferred something a little longer than normal. He felt in control of greater length and thought the energy expended was not so great. Let the axe do the work. He had also learned about grip. As with a golf swing the grip was important and helped to enable repeat swings on the same spot with firmness, no wobble. With wrists properly lined up he figured less energy was spent more effectively. 

He had also figured out the log needed to be prepared properly. When chain sawing logs to length if there was any branching he tried to make sure the knots would be located at one end of a log, not in the middle. He also chopped a log in effect from the top down. It was just so much easier to do and for the most part he could quickly determine which end represented the canopy and which the roots.

Ideally once chopped he liked to stack the wood in a linear arrangement about four foot high in a double row well exposed to the sun and breezes. Sometimes he covered the wood, but often they were left exposed to the elements as he figured it did not make much difference as long as the wood was in the woodshed before the end of August. In total for a year for the farmhouse and the flat, he required about ten cords of dry wood. He was a little behind in cutting and chopping with only a third of what was needed chopped and drying. So chopping wood just now for a couple of hours would make a significant contribution. 

Chopping wood is one of those relaxing mindless tasks. Once a rhythm is achieved the mind is freed up and can wonder aimlessly or focus on thinking. I will get going here with the wood and then I want to continue with the aside. Most of the wood in the pile at the moment is ash, thanks to the changing variability in our climate and the ash borer, with a bit of cherry so it will be quite straight forward, no need to figure out an elm puzzle and it will not be too tiring.

I suggested in the last aside there is one singular value. The statement requires some explanation. Singular, as I am using it, is intended to portray something from which everything emanates. I do not mean it in a hierarchical way, rather in an explosive way as the source from which all dispersal occurs. This singular value, the Languages of Existence, gives rise to all values. 

I also suggested very quickly a proliferation of values occurs. The Languages of Existence explodes into multiple value associations. I am calling these value associations ‘value streams’ or ‘value systems’. In effect, values lead to more values. The value systems multiply in associations of great overlap. There is no mathematical order, there is just association. The values inherent in the Languages of Existence are intrinsic to it, but they are not named and further, existence by itself has no value, it just is. Value is a concept imposed on existence by humanity and in our designed languages we include by way of example such values as: nourishment, shelter, nurture, good health, compassion, love, and so on and the list is very long.

At some point in time our ancestors began to accumulate the memory and knowledge of those values in primitive designed language. They started to name values in sign and sound independent of the concept of value. Those ancestors were taking the first tentative steps outside the natural Languages of Existence. 

As evolution plodded on, as experience, memory and knowledge accumulated and as brain transformations occurred their abilities increased and the steps in the journey of coherence became stronger and more directed. The important things in life were becoming more clearly identified and importantly, identifiable. The notion of value was incubating and as the thinking and design process in our brains evolved the notion of an idea was born. 

As time moved on and with trial and error a linkage of understanding was formed between the realization of an idea and its development. Slowly their skill set increased and matured. The thought of connecting an idea with the notion of making the idea was transformative. The importance of this cannot be overstated for it is the foundation of humanity’s achievements. 

Process was becoming understood and method was being developed. Those early ancestors were designing and arranging now beyond the Languages of Existence and its value streams. They were beginning to design and build their own unique systems, even though, as it remains true today, they/we continued to be dependent upon the Languages of Existence for all existence.

Values, attitudes and beliefs have become the troika of humanity’s self-guidance for our decision-making, design and doing. In reality we are constantly performing forward and backward passes consulting our VABs and MEKs to then make design decisions and implement them as required. Clearly, we do not live our lives in a vacuum and are constantly referring to and referencing the things important to us. 

In the next session I want to begin to look at specific examples of what we consider to be important. For the moment I do not want to think any more, just chop and enjoy the rhythm.

Mellie and Sarah both wanted to check the stuff Greg had left them, especially as they would be hefting it as their groups meandered through the hunt. Most of the others had drifted back to their respective stakes and the boxes with instructions and sensory muffling gear. 

“Hey, this looks useful,” remarked Sarah as she held up a harness for carrying tools. “We should be able to carry everything in the pile on our backs if my guess is right.”

“I think you are probably right. There is not really that much for us to lug about unless the boxes have more and unless we have to pick stuff up along the trail. Lets split it up and get over to our groups and get on with the saga.”  They did exactly that.

Mellie tucked everything under her arm and carted it over to her group while Sarah took more time as she tried on the harness and then worked out how the tools would be carried. Very neat she thought. Mellie on the other hand wanted to see how her group was doing and whether they were making any progress with the muffling gear. She also wanted to have a better look at the instructions so she could be fully aware of what Greg was expecting and suggesting.

“So, how are you lot doing? Have you figured out who is wearing what?” she asked even though she was fully aware no decisions had been made. They were all still trying on the gear to get a feel for it and to see which they preferred.

“I am not sure I want to wear any of it,” responded the Care Giver. “I especially do not want to wear the blinder thingy.”

“Oh, I was thinking you would look good with them on,” teased the Editor.

“No way am I going through the woods without being able to see, even if the blinder thingies do make me seductive,” she replied.

“Maybe we need to think strategically,” suggested the Sporty Person. “If we have tasks to perform with these thingy things on, then maybe we need to be sure we have all our strengths available.” 

As no one said anything the Sporty Person went on to say, “So, for example we need to be sure those with the best hearing and a familiarity with sounds in the countryside are not wearing the very fashionable earmuffs. We should probably have both strong hands and little hands available. Similarly those with good sight should not be blinded.”

“Sounds good to me,” said the Farmer. “And since my eyesight is not great I am willing to be blind for the journey.” 

“Likewise for me,” added the Editor. “Besides, I am quite use to being lead about on wild goose chases that go nowhere. Being blind should not affect my contribution.”

“Well, then, I can put on the earmuff thingies. I don’t imagine my hearing would represent an asset,” said the less worried Care Giver.

“I will go with the oversized boxing gloves then,” volunteered First Nations. “They might come in handy if we find a bear.”

“I should probably go without hearing,” the Nurse thought out loud. “My ears won’t be very useful in the woods.”

“Well, that means I get to don the boxing gloves,” replied the Sporty Person. “Oh, joy.”

“The instructions say you have to have your gear on before opening the first task envelope, so as soon as you are all fitted out we can discover what Greg wants us to do,” offered Mellie.

Sarah’s group was having a little more difficulty figuring out who was going to wear what and Sarah had no thoughts of inspiration to overcome the impasse. The problem lay with the blinders. No one seemed willing to put them on.

Eventually the Politician suggested they should draw straws to figure out who was going to wear what. That left it all to chance, but no one had any other suggestions and Greg’s hints seemed to go unnoticed. He had suggested they try to keep strengths available as Mellie’s group was intending to do.

With no objections to the proposal, Sarah went off in search of some little sticks that would act as straws. She found some and broke them into three sizes, largest for blinders, middle size for gloves and smallest for earmuffs. She returned to her group and asked who was going to choose first. The Minister then suggested Sarah write down a number between zero and one hundred and everyone write down a guess. The closest would go first and the furthest last. So, in the name of fairness that is what they did and still some were not happy. 

After choosing sticks it turned out the Politician and Greg’s dad were to be blind. The Scientist and the Mechanic were to go without hands and of course the Librarian and the Minister were to be without hearing. 

Sarah then suggested everyone put on their sensory muffler so she could open the instructions for the first task. As they were putting the gear on she reminded them from here on she would be giving minimal help other than to carry some tools and any notes or clues they had to take with them. Sarah then checked to make sure all the stuff was on right and secure. Then she opened the instructions and started to read them out loud. 

“Well done so far. If you are reading this then you have arrived at task number one and everyone will have their sensory mufflers on. I believe you have all the tools you will need to complete the three tasks. Task number one requires you do the following: from the stake go north for exactly two hundred meters to find the next part of this task. Please remember to help each other along so no one stumbles and is possibly hurt. To find the next clue find the stone sandwich and enjoy.”

Sarah then passed the instructions to the Minister and the Librarian so they could read them. 

When finished the Minister asked, “What next? I mean how do we do this part of the task?” 

As she spoke it was a strange sensation. She could actually hear herself speak, the words were quite clear in an internal sort of monologue. However, she did not have a clue what anyone said in response. The Librarian heard nothing at all. 

Sarah realized this was not going to be easy unless they got themselves organized about how to communicate so everyone was participating. Then the Librarian suggested Sarah write notes on the pad of paper for the Minister and he to read. Sarah gave a thumbs up signal to the suggestion, wrote out the Librarian’s suggestion and gave it to the Minister. The Minister responded with a “Good” and thumbs up to the Librarian. 

Without realizing it, these three had resorted to passing notes and flashing primitive hand signals, no good for the Politician and Greg’s dad as they could not see what was happening and the Scientist and Mechanic could not do hand signals. 

The Politician then said, “How the hell are we going to do this task?” 

Sarah wondered the same thing and then realized she had to write a note for the Minister and the Librarian. The Minister then put both arms bent at ninety degrees out to her sides with palms up and shrugged. Sarah relayed the message to the Politician and Greg’s dad. The Mechanic then tried to focus attention on the task with Sarah scribbling more notes. At this rate she wondered how long the note pad would last. 

The Mechanic’s mind certainly seemed to be in high gear much to everyone’s relief. Slowly, so Sarah, the Minister and the Librarian could keep up, the Mechanic laid out the problem and made a few workable, it seemed, suggestions. 

“We have to safely go in a straight line north for two hundred meters. I think the rope and staves in your harness Sarah will help. I expect, I am guessing, the rope is ten meters long and maybe with the staves we can form a sort of caterpillar arrangement for walking. I think you also have some short sticks we can use to make sure our line is straight. You also have a compass with which we can get started and check our progress as we go.”

“It seems like you have done this before,” offered the Politician.

“No never, just trying to put myself in Greg’s shoes to see if I can figure out his thinking.”

“So, do we just assume the rope length or do we assume the staves are two meters long and then check the rope length by them?” asked the Scientist. 

“Ya, good point, let’s see if the staves and rope line up for length as I have suggested,” said the Mechanic.

Now with everyone on the same page they all looked at Sarah expecting her, willing her to do the rope check. She on the other hand was remembering the instructions from Greg: “Let them figure out and solve problems. Please don’t rush in, let them do the tasks.” She removed the rope from her harness and handed it to the Librarian who for a few moments looked quite confused, not knowing what to do next. The Scientist came to his rescue by suggesting he lay the rope out and then measure its length with one of the staves by summersaulting it along the rope’s length. 

Sarah was rapidly going through the note pad. 

The Minister helped by taking one end of the rope and pulling it out until the rope was taught. Greg’s dad stood on the other end. The Librarian then took one of the staves and did exactly what the Scientist had suggested and yes the rope was just short of ten meters long by about six inches. The Scientist then said she had calculated incorrectly forgetting about the thickness of the stave. She suggested that would account for the rope appearing to be just short of ten meters. 

“OK, so we assume the rope is ten meters and now we have to work out a method to ensure we travel in a straight line north,” offered the Mechanic.

“How many little sticks do you have Sarah?” asked Greg’s dad.

“There are four.”

“Perfect. This is what I suggest we do. From our stake we take a compass reading to get north. One of us then pulls the rope out full length and someone else gets them to move to a point which looks like north according to the compass. One of the stakes is then pushed into the ground. Then it is a simple matter of lining up stakes at ten meter intervals so there are always three in the ground and a forth to locate the new position ten meters further forward. The forth stake is taken from the back or we make new stakes as we go or we make them now and carry them with us. We would need to make sixteen and then Sherpa Sarah could carry them for us and we could concentrate on keeping the blind ones safe, that is the Politician and me. Does that sound reasonable, doable?”

“It sounds good to me,” replied the Mechanic “but, I think we should always retrieve the back stake to save time now and because these stakes are straight. If we make some they may cause us to wobble our path.”

Sarah was down to one piece of paper and let everyone know communications were going to be a little more difficult unless someone had a bright idea.

The Minister then took everyone by surprise when she pointed out the compass seemed to identify not only north but, also what looked like a treeless corridor. 

“I started to wonder about trees,” she explained, “and wondered whether or not Greg would have positioned the first stake in a position to avoid trees giving us a two hundred meter treeless corridor. I think that is what he did, and that means all we need to do is measure our distance as we move along within the corridor. This would save considerable time and we could then more easily safeguard the blind. As we go someone in front can check for north just to be sure.”

“Oh for eyes and a mind to go with them,” lamented Greg’s dad.

The Mechanic then said, “We still need the stakes to mark distance. If one of us trails at the end of the rope that person can stop the group at ten meters and a stake can be put in the ground at the front of the group with the line pulled tight. Maybe Sarah can then bring stakes to the front as required and after being retrieved at the back. Shall we try this? Oh someone has to keep count so we know when we have gone two hundred meters. Lets get into some sort of formation and see how it feels.”

“I have been thinking about the formation,” offered the Librarian. “We need hands and eyes at the front and the back to accomplish the tasks as has been suggested. We then need eyes at second position to keep in line with the leader, the Minister. I can follow at the end. We also need eyes second from back to help the blind navigate the path we take and to help them avoid any potential tripping obstacles. These two positions are taken by the Scientist and the Mechanic and these two will hold the staves on their shoulders. The blind, Greg’s dad and the Politician can then hold onto the staves for support and guidance.”

“If you make us hanging chairs we don’t even need to walk,” kidded the Politician. 

“Actually not a bad idea, but a bit heavy for the Scientist and the Mechanic,” suggested the Librarian. “Lets just see if we can walk in the formation suggested.”

So, they all lined up with the Minister in the lead, the Scientist next followed by the Politician and Greg’s dad, then the Mechanic and finally the Librarian. Sarah gave one end of the rope to the Minister who held the compass in her other hand. The Librarian took the other end of the rope and on a count of three by the Librarian they were off. Once the blind twosome got used to the pace and the stopping and starting progress seemed to go quite smoothly. For all of them the two hundred meter journey seemed to be completed rather quickly. So, when the Scientist began the countdown at fifty meters to go, Team Sarah were starting to feel as if they could just keep on going. At two hundred meters there was a noticeable sigh as everyone felt exhausted from concentration. Their method had worked. 

Team Mellie was not having such an easy time. Their problem was the Sporty Person who seemed to want to dominate. After the early success in selecting who would wear what his pronouncements seemed to go nowhere other than into a muddle. 

It did not help, unlike Sarah, that Mellie did not take notes of what was being said to pass on to the Care Giver and the Nurse. They were uninvolved. Finally, the nurse had enough of being excluded and not knowing what was being said and proposed. She had a minor eruption explaining she and the Care Giver had to be included in the discussions somehow. 

“Is there some paper or something we can do notes on? The notes do not have to be very long, just enough to give us the gist of what is being said so we can contribute,” she said.

Mellie had seen what Sarah seemed to be doing and rummaged around in a pocket of the harness to find the pad of paper and a pen. She volunteered to write notes, but did so in a much more economical way than Sarah was doing. It was enough. Now instead of four participating, all six team members were involved. Unfortunately it seemed to add to the confusion and if anything made the Sporty Person even more adamant he was right. They were stymied and beginning to think their selection of muffling gear had been wrong. They were all second guessing rather than focusing on the task, except for First Nations. He did participate in the discussions, but minimally. 

Instead, he was trying to figure out Greg’s thinking, as had the Mechanic and realized the objective was not to make the task so difficult it would be impossible to complete. He came to the conclusion Greg would have provided a key to open the door, to remove the barrier blocking clear vision. 

First Nations was now trying to identify the key by considering all the tools Greg had provided. In his mind he had eliminated all but four, the rope, the stakes, the staves and the compass. Although they had not measured it, he figured the rope would be a length by which they could determine a two hundred meters distance. He did not know what the stakes and staves were for and so could not eliminate them. Obviously the compass was for directional purposes. 

He also knew it was easy to become disoriented in a wood, to lose ones way. The compass would be essential for maintaining a relatively straight direction, but it was not fool proof, especially in the woods where the trees could push one off a track. A well travelled track, such as the one Greg had driven the tractor on got around the problem as it was obvious in the stunted vegetation and bare earth even though it did meander.

It, however was not straight and measuring a distance would be problematic. The track had to be straight north for two hundred meters. There it was again, the notion of a track. Was there a track, a straight one cut through the woods? 

He moved over to where Mellie stood and as she scribbled another short note to give to the Nurse and the Care Giver he quietly asked for the compass. Mellie fished it out of the harness pocket and put it in First Nations vest pocket as there was no where else to put it. 

First Nations then went to the Farmer who was closest to the stake and asked her to hold his arm and walk over to the stake. He explained what he wanted her to do as he could not do it with the gloves on. She found the compass and he positioned her at the stake, but he had already identified the track. It was obvious to his practiced eyes. He was sure the compass would confirm what he was looking at. She raised the compass so First Nations could see it and he gently moved her hand around so the compass was indicating north and yes the track. 

“Good,” he said. 

They returned to the group and First Nations explained his finding. He also suggested what thy could do next, a different approach to the task than team Sarah. Suddenly there was more enthusiasm for involvement in the task.

First Nations’ idea was quite simple really and safer for the blind. He did not believe they all needed to go through the woods only those measuring distance. The others he figured could walk along the farm track. His reasoning: if there is a way in, that is the track through the woods to be measured for distance, there is probably another way in or out from the farm track about two hundred meters along it toward the farm house and barn, a sort of side door entry. Those measuring and those following the easier farm track could easily keep in touch as the wood where they would be measuring was not so wide as to make conversation impossible. He suggested the rope would be their measuring tape and they could then all meet up at the next destination. 

Everyone agreed even the Sporty Person although he remained comparatively quiet in doing so.

It was agreed the Nurse and Care Giver would have to do the measuring as they had hands and eyes to work with. Mellie would go with them, record distance and act as the mobile telephone between the two surveyors and the other four. The Sporty Person and First Nations could then stroll along the farm track with the Editor and the Farmer enjoying the lovely day and avoiding bugs. 

Before setting out they laid the rope out and measured its length with one of the staves they figured to be two meters long. As with team Sarah they found the rope to be ten meters in length. 

Although team Mellie was slower to get going their method of measuring and walking with the blind was more efficient. In the end they covered the two hundred meter distance quite quickly and the foursome on the farm track discovered the side door entry into the woods without difficulty. As they knew what they were looking for when they found it the side door entry was quite obvious, so much so they started along it arriving at the open air terminus of the measured track through the woods before the Nurse, Care Giver and Mellie. Indeed, the four were sitting comfortably enjoying the warming sunshine as the surveyors arrived to confirm they had covered two hundred meters.

“Now what?” asked the Care Giver. “Mellie, what did the instructions say we would find or have to find when we got here assuming here is where we should be?”

Mellie took out the note and read the important last line out loud and then showed it to the Nurse and Care Giver. 

“A stone sandwich, what do you think he meant by that?” asked the Editor. “Maybe one stone on top of another with a note between the two stones.”

“Is this what you are looking for?” asked First Nations. “I noticed it when we came into the clearing. I think the top stone can be moved without too much difficulty, even with these monstrous gloves on. Sporty Person, would you like to have the honour of pushing it off so we can enjoy what lies beneath?”

“With pleasure,” he said. 

He did and there was the envelope they hoped would be found. The Nurse took it and read out loud the new instructions. 

“Congratulations, however you managed to find this note does not matter so much as you worked out the puzzle together. Now on to the next part of this task to find the next clue. Remove the load to find  out.”

“He enjoys cryptic clues I think,” responded the Editor. “Any ideas?”

“I think we need a few minutes to consider and then maybe brain storm,” suggested the Nurse.

Team Sarah had followed their plan. It had worked and they were now also considering the clue Greg had sandwiched between a similar pair of stones in a similar small clearing in another part of the wood.

Well, with a bit of a mind rest I can continue chopping and can think again. So, I have discussed the profound connection humanity made between a concept and making or organizing the concept. This cannot be understated and represents the foundation upon which humanity has progressed. Soon I will discuss the connection in more detail. I have not finished with VABs and MEKs though as it is these two now driving design and making.

A value is something we hold to be important, something worth pursuing and maintaining. Values can take many forms and generally as far as I can see, fall into three categories: supporting, consisting of a bare concept and other values providing justification or enabling principles; doing or action values whereby hands get dirty, people are occupied and a lot of tinkering and discovery is engaged in, the R&D of our times; and achievement values when and where purposes are fulfilled, a realization of a goal is achieved, a satisfied sigh is released, something has been well done. 

I think we need to be aware also of a distinction between a value and what we value. By themselves values represent pure ideals as abstract concepts as determined by a way of thinking. They are the future. What we value encompasses our achievements and contemporary pursuits in the here and now. These subjects and objects of our attention include, form and function, a thing, a relationship and community of relationships, an organization, a system, in short applied design. The translation or conversion from values to what we value is not always seamless or unequivocal.

The complexity does not stop there. What we believe has a profound affect upon what we value and upon our attitudes toward how we go about goal pursuit. In turn our attitudes help shape the process and selection of values and our pursuit or reinforcement of our beliefs. Returning full circle we can value our attitudes and beliefs. All of this can certainly be superficial where we might pull VABs off the shelf, but others will look deeper at the intrinsic, esoteric and existential properties and implications. 

Finally, humanity has acquired and continues to acquire context in the form of memories, experience and knowledge. Whatever else we may have done we have learned and I might add have forgotten a lot. Our MEKs are always at play when forming values, attitudes and beliefs.

A material good, for example a house, is no different compared to a social good, for example compassion for the homeless. They are both valued. The difference, and this can be huge lies in context involving scale and surrogates (more about these later). This of course opens up a whole can of worms very visible across social, cultural, political, economic and religious boundaries whatever form they may take. To give a sense of the breadth of VABs and MEKs and our understanding or not of context you only have to look at your average everyday university calendar of subjects taught. Some will claim we live in a knowledge economy and the number of valued subjects is enormous.

So our VABs and the influential contextual MEKs have an enormous impact upon how we conduct ourselves and our civilizations. These are the direct and indirect influences dealt with every day of our collective lives. These are the influences impacting our STR and decision-making processes. This is where I want to turn next, to design and the systems we have created in response.

Having considered the note for a few minutes on their own, team Mellie, lead this time by the Nurse, who seemed to have gained in confidence, posed the question everyone was thinking. 

“What load, what do we need to remove?”

“I believe you are correct to ask that question,” replied the Editor. “So, look around. What would constitute a load? It must be in view as Greg gave no other instructions about going somewhere else.”

“No, but it could be metaphor. It may not be a real physical load of anything, but rather something else, maybe something in us, some kind of concern or something else,” mused the Care Giver.

“I suppose that is possible,” responded the Sporty Person, “but, I rather think he means something physical, something we could shift in a relatively short time. If we have to remove psychological loads it could take a lifetime.”

“OK, so there is a pile of logs over there and a lot of stones not far from the logs, what about them?” asked the Nurse.

“They are both possible loads, but somehow I think they are too random looking. When I think of a load, I picture something more well defined.” 

First Nations went on thinking out loud. 

“The logs and stones look like they were piled, more like scattered, gradually in no particular order, not all at once into a load pile like what you might get from a dump truck.” 

As he spoke from his lofty seat, First Nations allowed sand to gradually fall from his held out hand. He had chosen to sit on top of a pile of what looked like random pieces of lumber and metal, but being on top he could look more closely at what was below the surface waste materials. He was sitting on what he thought was a load of sand.

Mellie continued to pass her brief notes to the Nurse and the Care Giver.

“No way,” offered the Sporty Person. “We have only one shovel and not a very good one at that. It would take us too long to flatten out all that sand.”

“We could all take turns going as hard as we could for a short time and then the next person and the next and so on,” suggested the Editor.

“We could,” replied the Sporty Person “but, you can’t see what you are doing and First Nations here and I have no hands. That leaves the job up to the Nurse and the Care Giver. Can you imagine how many blisters they would have by the time they finished, not to mention destroyed backs. No, I do not think Greg intended us to flatten a pile of sand.”

“Well, from where I sit it seems we might be able to fashion a bigger shovel,” said First Nations.

“What do you mean? A shovel is a shovel is a shovel,” suggested the Sporty Person in a clipped and abrupt tone.

“True, but a scraper is a scraper is a scraper,” offered First Nations in reply.

“Hold on please,” requested the Care Giver. “You lot are going too quickly and the note system can’t keep up with your pace.”

“I am trying,” responded Mellie.

“I know you are, but, you writing and us reading means they are well passed where we are when we get there. It is a bit like reading the newspaper the next day.” 

“So, what would you have us do?” asked the Editor.

“Slow down,” interjected the Nurse.

“Ok, we will try that. What we need to do now is decide which pile to attack,” offered the Sporty Person, “and then we need to decide how to do it.”

Team Sarah was facing a similar quandary. They had also identified the logs, stones and pile of waste materials or so they thought it was. The Politician had expressed a desire to avoid unnecessary work if they chose the wrong pile, but she did not know how to select the right one. The mechanic had pointed out he did not have hands available for lifting and moving much of anything. And the Librarian suggested clearing any of the piles would be difficult for someone as out of shape as he. Not much progress was being made in either group. In fact no progress was being made.

It was the Minister who asked the all important question first. She asked Sarah if she had had a real good look at the harness she carried containing the tools, sticks and odds and ends. Was there a hidden pocket to be revealed if the tools were removed, the load of tools.

“No, I just thought the harness was a neat design and seemed to hold the tools very nicely,’ said Sarah.  “So, I did not spend any time looking for hidden pockets, I just put the tools in so I could then help you lot figure out what you were doing.”

“Well then,” replied the Minister, “maybe we can have a closer look at it to see if there are any surprises lurking within. The instructions said ‘remove the load’ so that is what I think we should do.”

Sarah quickly removed the tools, set them aside and began exploring the harness. She felt it thoroughly as if the harness was going through customs and thought she felt something in where the sticks had been held in place. “I think there is something in here but, it is not obvious how to get at it. We need to figure out how this harness is put together. Maybe the whole thing opens out somehow. Anyone good at garments and hidden pockets because I am not.”

“I would give it a try, but without hands I am rather useless” offered the Scientist “Let me have a look at it and then maybe I can instruct how to open it up. No guarantees though. We may not even be on the right track.”

Sarah put the harness in her lap and offered to turn it so the Scientist could have a good look. The others were crowded around looking over shoulders all trying to see something that would suggest it could be opened out. 

“Are you sure there is something inside? Where do you think it might be located?” the Scientist asked.

Sarah pointed to the area around where the sticks were held in place. 

“I am not sure you are correct. Maybe what you felt was the flap on the other side. All these seams are well sewn. It does not look like it opens out anywhere. No folds, no domes, no buttons, no Velcro. I think what you see is all there is.”

“So, back to the other options, the other loads?” questioned the Mechanic.

“Oh, I was so hopeful. I really don’t want to have to do a lot of labour, especially if we get it wrong again,” whined the Librarian.

“Just before we leave the harness,” interjected Greg’s dad, “tell me if you think this harness is a manufactured item. It seems curious to me the harness would carry the tools so perfectly unless it was made for the purpose.”

“It looks well made,” offered the Scientist. 

“Is there a label?” he asked. “If there is, what is printed on it?”

Sarah replied, “Yes, it is down at the bottom where the shovel hung. Let me see if I can see it to read it.” 

She turned the harness around a bit, looked at one side then the other. 

“Well well, you are a genius. We have found the next instructions. How did you know to look there?” 

“When Greg was a young boy his mother would sometimes put notes to him on labels. As you were looking for a pocket the notes on labels came back to me and I thought, yes Greg would do something like that.”

“So, what does the note tell us?” asked the Mechanic.

Sarah picked the harness up again so she could read the label. 

“It says, ‘Assemble me in this shape and all will be revealed.’ Clever, as he used the shape to make it look like a company logo.”

“Yes, exactly as his mother would have done,” said Greg’s dad.

“So, what is the shape and what are we assembling?” asked the Politician. 

Sarah looked closely again. 

“It looks like an arch made out of logs,” she said.

“Are we talking about those logs over there?” asked the Mechanic.

“Lets go see,” suggested the Librarian.

As they moved to the logs one might have compared their formation to a flock of geese. The Mechanic was first crossing over the some forty feet to the pile of logs. 

“Well well, it would seem there is writing on these logs,” he said.

Team Mellie was having more difficulty figuring out the puzzle. After First Nations’ success with establishing a straight line through the woods, they were inclined to follow his suggestion now and were trying to figure out how to remove the sand. 

“If we organize a scraper it would be a lot quicker than using the shovel,” suggested First Nations. “I think one of these planks would work well.”

Once they knew what was required, the Nurse and the Care Giver started pulling the plank across the top of the sand pile. It did not take many scrapings when the Sporty Person pointed and exclaimed, “There it is.” 

Sure enough, the corner of a brown envelope protruded from the sand.  But, the contents were not so gratifying. In fact it left team Mellie quite deflated. If not the sand pile, then what? 

The note read, “Sorry, not this load. Small is good.”

“Small what is good?” posed the Sporty Person.

“Small load I suppose,” suggested the Care Giver.

First Nations then suggested, “I think we have overlooked a small load. I also have a feeling small refers to something else, but I am not sure what. If it is a small load, is there something we should have seen before as we made our way to this clearing? How small is still a load? Any suggestions?”

Mellie had finished another pad of paper and was rummaging around in the pocket of the harness for another pad. As she did so the tools shifted in their position, the label was exposed and for some inexplicable reason, maybe all the talk about small, she glanced at the label and saw what team Sarah had figured out. It was pure chance, but now she knew. The problem now was what to do with the information. Greg had asked her and Sarah to be helpful, but to let the group figure things out. She did not feel she could just blurt out, “I have found it.” She had to make it look like the group figured it out. How to get them to recognize the load of tools and the label on the harness without letting on she knew what they should be looking for. A little fib might work. 

She commented, “I am not carrying much weight with these tools, but it does get your shoulders after a while.”

No one clued in. She rattled the tools a bit to make a noise, as if she was adjusting their position. Nothing. She asked the Care Giver to help her get into the harness. No one was looking. 

“I’ll have to get one of you to take a picture of me with this stuff on my back. I probably look like some third world worker going off to the fields with her load of tools and odds and ends.” 

There, she had used the word and related it directly to the tools on her back. They have to get it. Doesn’t anyone play charades, she thought. Nothing. 

To the Farmer she asked, “I guess you are hauling tools around all the time? How do you carry them?”

“Oh, I usually put my load of tools in a wheel barrow. Hey, that is it, might be it. Tools can be a load. Anything can be a load I guess, but Mellie’s load of things could be a load, couldn’t it?”

They all looked at her and slowly the dimmer switch was turned to full power. They began to see the light.

“So, Mellie, off with the harness,” said the Sporty Person.

“I just put it on,” she replied, trying to cover her tracks.

“Too bad,” replied the Sporty Person, “we need to look at your load of tools.”

Oh no. Oh well just have to see where they go with this, thought Mellie.

“Lets have a look at the harness then and check out any pockets and linings we can find,” recommended the Nurse.

They explored and of course found nothing hidden anywhere inside the harness. They were in the throes of giving up thinking this was not their solution. This, they were concluding, was not the small load they were looking for. 

Mellie read what was happening and not wanting them to be diverted asked them who the manufacturer was as she thought it was a well made harness and might follow up later to see what other bags the company was making. 

The Care Giver took the harness, found the label, looked at it and sat back with the harness in her lap. She looked and acted puzzled. She pulled the harness back up to have another look at the label. She put it down again. 

“I don’t think this is a manufacturer’s label. I think it is our next instructions,” she said.

First Nations, with a bit of signing, asked her to read it.

“Well, it says, “Assemble me in this shape and all will be revealed.” The shape looks like some sort of arch, maybe made with sticks.”

“That’s it? No instructions for finding the sticks?” asked the Sporty Person.

“No, none, just the note as I read it,” said the Care Giver

First Nations moved around behind the Care Giver asking her to hold it up so he could see the label. 

“Mmmmh, yes, it might indicate sticks, but it could also be logs such as those logs over there,” he suggested.

The Sporty Person also moved around to see the label and concurred with First Nations. 

Then he said, “Lets go have a closer look at the logs and see if there is any indication that is what the label note is referring to.”

The team rose and guided the Editor and the Farmer over to the logs. Immediately First Nations noticed notches in the logs and the Nurse pointed out what looked like numbers on some of the logs. The Sporty Person pointed out the logs were different lengths. They were on the case with a vengeance. First Nations suggested the logs should be untangled and piled again according to log size so they could inspect them to see if they all had numbers. The Care Giver and Nurse began the task and quickly realized the logs were indeed numbered in the following way: long logs were odd numbered 1A and1B, 3A and 3B and so on while the short logs had even numbers 2A and 2B and 4A and 4B and so on.  

First Nations then suggested they start by placing the logs in order starting with logs 1A and 1B on the post piers he had noticed with notches facing up. He then asked them to put the shorter logs 2A and 2B across the long logs so the notches lined up and the logs locked in place. He then suggested they continue building up the cabin shape making sure each log was placed in the same way as the log below so all the A’s and B’s were positioned on the same sides and ends. As they built other markings started to appear and line up. They soon realized the other markings constituted words and by level four realized this was going to be a message. 

Team Sarah had not been so orderly in their construction mixing A’s and B’s and were well into level seven when the Librarian noticed the markings made words. He suggested they stop building so he could look at the markings more closely and then suggested they should take it all apart and start over making sure the A’s and B’s lined up on their respective sides and ends.

“Are you sure?” asked the Minister. “I do not want to take all our work apart for no reason.”

“Yes, look here where we got the logs lined up A to A and around here where the B’s line up. Definitely words. I think there will be a message if we complete the construction according to the numbers and letters. If there was no need to do that the numbers and letters would not be necessary. I don’t like the idea of starting over either, but if we don’t then I fear the message will not be available to us.” 

The dismantling did not actually take too long. Then they started over and made sure all the numbers and letters were in the correct locations. As with team Mellie they soon found a growing number of words and could begin to identify what they now realized would be a message. They built to level nine and ten and then realized the notches on the end logs were spaced differently with diminishing separation so the arched roof shape started to form and was completed with levels seventeen and eighteen. 

They had finished the log cabin with the arched roof and now Sarah was writing down the words as Mellie had done earlier with completion of the cabin shape they had built. The message went as follows: “Congratulations again. You are doing very well. Now you need to find the centre point of the field to the North. Please go quietly so as not to disturb the cows.” 

There was one difference in the team Mellie message, they were to find the centre point in the field to the West. Surprisingly both teams were progressing through the tasks and puzzles at a similar rate with Team Mellie only about twenty minutes ahead.

Identifying a concept and then making it is a profound notion in itself. It begs the question: Why and how did our ancient ancestors depart from gathering and scavenging? What was the first step on our journey? What caused us to start to design and make and for what purpose? Unfortunately and probably we will never be able to answer the questions definitively. I think, however, we can make some good guesses.

All life requires some basic elements to survive and grow: food, shelter and safety, family and companionship, and for animals in particular, nurture. In a very primitive state as long as necessities remain relatively abundant and constant, there would be little impetus to change. Survival would seem guaranteed, so why rock the boat. 

Circumstances can and do change however and when this happens if necessary, life makes adjustments again looking for a good supply of the necessities. Sometimes the change is dramatic and prolonged. Adjustment in these circumstances involves luck, being in the right place at the right time or ingenuity, when a different way is devised to survive the dramatic change. At other times change will be slow and minor, but if repeated often enough, will add up to something significant. This incremental change may require adjustments, but might be so subtle as to not even be recognized.

There seem to be three circumstances, then, which individually or together could cause adjustments in behaviour. These are change, threat and opportunity. To survive the response must involve improvisation, a deviation or detour from the norm where necessity and ingenuity have rolls. It seems to me over a great deal of time four adjustment responses occurred: genetic and anatomical including cranial capacity; environmental migration involving geographical relocation, food and the other necessities and climate and possibly other reasons for forced migration; social change; and the design and development of tools. All four were hugely important, but environmental and social change and tool development involved improvisation and ingenuity. Tool design and development in particular involved huge steps sideways time after time. Our ancestors were moving into unknown and uncharted waters.

Improvisation is one side of the coin, the light bulb turned on the idea in its rawest form intended to allow something to be done where before it was difficult or impossible. Picking out a stick for scratching and digging the earth might be one example of a raw improvisation, an incubational idea. Sharpening the stick was an improvement, the other side of the coin. The act of sharpening, however, required improvisation involving method and selection of the material suitable for sharpening. Slowly improvements were made and then some bright spark decided bone would be more durable and then the whole process had to be reconsidered as bone was more of a challenge. Without knowing what they were doing in terms of the bigger picture, these early ancestors were taking the first tentative steps into a whole new world of design. First they improvised by borrowing from nature for a purpose and then with time and trial and error they improved the original concept and a design methodology was created.

Again, unknown to them with their improvisations and improvements, they were doing something quite profound that goes way beyond but, is dependent upon the creative process of design. They had begun to toy with the notions of connection and linkage. Beyond just using their bodies to do things, they were realizing, with a bit of thinking a better way was possible and they could design the better way. In a single creative moment two ideas were born, the tool, a final product arrangement of parts and creating the process, a series of steps, to think about and then make the tools. They had created both sides of the systems coin, the design process and the designed product both comprised of parts together establishing a whole. Further, this revelation in thinking was good for the simplest to the more complex and in our contemporary societies the hugely complex systems we employ to get things done. 

Today design process and designed product are ubiquitous and comprise our modern societies, our designed collection of systems, our human ecology. The simple digging stick with its blunt end has been transformed into an array of systems no one person can possibly understand let alone anticipate. Along the way our VABs and MEKs have been altered forever. The simple digging stick employed by one of our ancient ancestors for personal use to dig up an edible root has been transformed into a highly dependent society of doers and beneficiaries. I suggest this is the third side of the systems coin, the edge, the side we often forget about, the substitute or as I prefer, the surrogate side. This is where I will turn to shortly, but first I want to explore in more detail the tool systems humanity has designed to better understand how these designs enabled humanity to grow in so many ways.

Team Mellie had identified a path from the clearing going west as instructed and now were standing just inside the electric gate on the edge of the field in which they were required to find the centre point. They looked at the field and each other for inspiration and upwards for guidance from heaven. Heaven was not responding and the lack of inspiration was deafening. No one seemed to know where to start with this task.

Mellie thought she knew what would work, but again in the spirit of her role decided she had to hold any comments until there was an obvious impasse. For the moment she just listened to what her team members were saying and scanned around the field noticing one of the cows lying down some distance from the rest of the small herd. From past experience growing up in the East and the trip out west she knew cows stayed together and now wondered why this one cow was separated and lying down.

“Does anyone know how a surveyor would approach this problem?” asked the Farmer. “At our farm we now use GPS to do such tasks. I suppose we will have to do this manually.”

“I am not very good at maths, but I think we could get centre points for each side and then connect them somehow. Where the lines intersect would be the middle,” offered the Editor.

“How do we make sure we have the centre point on each side?” asked the Farmer. “We can pace it out, but I don’t think it would be very accurate.”

“Does anyone know if we can use the corners?” asked the Sporty Person. “That way we would not need to find a centre point in a fence.”

“We would still need to connect from corner to corner to get the centre point,” suggested the Editor. 

“Doesn’t a surveyor use a stick to mark desired locations?” asked the Nurse. “You see them all the time on the side of roads when they are trying to find a point.”

“Still have to connect one corner with the other to find the centre point,” replied the Editor.

“We do not have any string to make the connections. Is there another way?” enquired the Care Giver. “What about just looking from corner to corner somehow and sticking a stick in the ground?”

“What would that accomplish?” asked the Sporty Person.

“I’m not sure,” replied the Care Giver.

“Maybe we do not need to do any of this measuring. Maybe we should just go into the area we think looks like the middle and search around for the next clue,” offered First Nations.

“I like that idea. We might be lucky and find it right away and not have to go through all this measuring when we would not know what we are doing,” agreed the Sporty Person. “So, those with eyes lets go search. The blind can come with us and we can have a real good hunt in the grass.” 

The hunt would prove fruitless.

Greg of course had anticipated this might be a selected method of trying to find the field centre point. So, he had chosen a method of hiding the clue making it much more difficult to find and not likely to be found by just searching in the grass. He was also aware the field looked square or rectangular, but knew in fact that it was an odd shaped trapezoid. The centre point was not to be found where it looked like it should be located.

Team Sarah on the other hand knew what they were doing and had to do to find the centre point in the field to the North. Both the Mechanic and the Scientist agreed finding the centre by sighting from corner to corner would do the trick. Three people with vision were required. One person would take one of the two meter poles out into the field and stand in a spot that looked to them as close to the centre. The other two would go to the two corners located at the opposite ends of one side. Standing on the outside of the corner posts these two would sight across the field to the diagonally opposite corner fence posts. In turn they would signal to the person in the field to move the pole until it was located on the diagonal sight line. When the pole was located on both diagonal sight lines, it would be located at the centre of the field. A search of the spot should reveal the clue they needed to find.

The process sounded simple, but before the Scientist and Mechanic could go to their corners and the Minister toward the middle of the field, they needed to agree on hand signals. They knew to find a centre point their system for locating it would have to be quite accurate and they could only achieve accuracy if the Minister understood what she was required to do. The success of this exercise came down to a few inches not feet or yards or meters.

With a method agreed the Minister took a position out in the field close to what she thought was the centre. Then taking turns the Scientist and the Mechanic signalled for her to move the stick until they were both satisfied the stick was located at the centre of the field. As the Minister stood holding the stick the other team members made their way to where she stood. 

“I do not see anything here,” observed the Librarian. “Do you think we got it right?”

“I am sure the stick is located at the field centre. Our method was correct and I am happy with the execution of it,” replied the Scientist.

“Lets look very carefully at the ground where the stick is located and see if you can see any disturbance of the turf,” suggested the Mechanic. “Is there a pattern that should not be there? Maybe a small circle with a three inch diameter. We should start at the stick and then gradually move away from it in uniform radius increments.”

At about four hundred milli meters the Scientist quietly said, “I think this might be what we are looking for.” She had found what looked like a perfect circle in the earth, very faint, but there.

“Good., Minister, please you have the honour of digging to see what is below the circle,” suggested the Mechanic. “Sarah the shovel, please, the one you have been carrying for no other reason than to dig up this clue to the treasure.” 

“Oh, I don’t think I can. Let the Librarian here do it for us.”

The Librarian took the shovel and dug a neat circle around the circle found by the Scientist. The Librarian then dug deep and pried the earth up feeling something on the shovel blade as he did it. He tipped the earth out of the shovel and a small jar rolled to a stop. They had found it, sort of. They had found one half of the final clue. The Minister took the jar, opened the lid, took out the piece of paper and read for the team to hear. “Congratulations, you have completed your assignment. This note represents one half of what you need to determine the location of the treasure. The other half of the clue will be found by the other team. 

Team Mellie were getting nowhere with their hunt. They did not know what they were looking for and did not know if they were at the centre of the field. All four with sight were getting visibly frustrated Mellie thought. Time to step outside the Sherpa role she realized. The Care Giver had almost got it right, but she did not know enough to pursue her thinking. The Editor could not get past thinking a physical connection between points was required. The Sporty Person, despite enquiring if corners could be used,  seemed to dismiss the Care Giver’s idea without giving it due consideration. Somehow she felt getting them to reconsider the Sporty Person’s and Care Giver’s suggestion was the best way of helping them.

Mellie asked the Care Giver, “Before we got lost in the grass, what were you thinking when you suggested using a stick to mark the centre spot?”

“I was just trying to say surveyors seem to employ a marked stick when they locate points. I am not sure exactly how they do it, but I have been thinking about it a bit more and the Sporty Person’s question about using corners seems quite sensible. We don’t have string, but we do have eye-sight. I also have vague memories of geometry classes and various shapes with x’s marking the centre spot. Isn’t there a saying, “x” marks the spot? Obviously hunting in the grass is getting us nowhere. I think we should start over and use our eyes to make the link from corner to corner and somehow use a stick to mark the centre of the “x”.”

“So, if I drew a shape in the dirt like this and linked the corners with an “x”, are you saying the centre of the “x” would be the centre of the shape?” asked Mellie.

“I think that is what I am saying.”

“I believe she is correct,” offered the Editor. “I got it wrong thinking we needed to find the centre point of the sides and then use something to physically link the centre points. I think we should go back and try to view from corner to corner and see what happens.”

“Looks like we have company,” observed the Nurse. 

Everyone turned to look in the direction the Nurse had indicated and sure enough the Scientist and the Mechanic from team Sarah were approaching from the direction of the farmhouse. 

“I hope they are not having the same problem we are having trying to find the centre point,” said the Care Giver. 

“Well, maybe they figured it out,” suggested the Sporty Person.

“How are you lot doing?” asked the Mechanic as he and the Scientist approached.

“We are sort of stuck and have not been able to find the centre of this field let alone the last clue,” offered First Nations.

“Oh, well it requires a bit of geometry and I suppose if you don’t remember it from high school or maybe you did not show up for classes on that day, it would be difficult to figure out.”

“We were going to start over and use the corners to sight across and hoped we might get somewhere using that approach,” replied the Care Giver.

“Well, that is exactly the method required and exactly what we did although finding the clue required a bit of hunting, very methodically,” said the Scientist.

“So we were on the right track?” questioned the Editor.

“Sounds like it,” agreed the Mechanic. “Two viewing from two corners and one with a stick and when the stick is finally positioned it should be the centre of the field.”

“Can you go over that again, slowly?” asked the Care Giver.

“Sure,” said the Scientist. “One person in that corner views across on the diagonal to the opposite corner over there. The other person views from that corner across to the opposite corner over there. One of you takes a pole and with hand signals from the corner persons the pole is moved until it is located exactly on both diagonals. Voila, it is in the middle of the field.”

“What do we do with the cows if they are in the way for viewing?” asked the Nurse.

“Move them along,” replied the Mechanic.

“Right, I should have thought of that.”

“Who did what in your team?” asked the Sporty Person.

“The Mechanic and I did the viewing, but only because we felt we knew what we were looking for. It meant we had to work out hand signals for the deaf person. You could do it in reverse with the deaf persons viewing if First Nations or the Sporty Person can work out how to hold a pole.”

“I think I could do that,” said First Nations. “Mellie can I have one of the poles you have been lugging about to see if it is possible.”

“So, the Nurse and I do the viewing or the Sporty Person and we keep moving the pole until it is located exactly on our sight line to the opposite corner posts,” said the Care Giver.

“Yup.”

“Are you OK with the pole?” asked the Sporty Person.

“I think so.”

“Right, then lets get the show moving,” suggested the Sporty Person.

They did and First Nations finally stood with the pole resting on the ground in the location the viewers had instructed. As it turned out the location was about five meters from where the team had been hunting in the grass, quite close for eyeballing the centre of the field, but unfortunately a bit too close as some of the area had been trampled. It was going to make finding the jar that much more difficult, but not impossible as the Scientist would soon figure it out, but not before they tried to see a three inch wide circle in the grass and soil.

“You know when we found the jar it was located 400 mm from the pole on one of the diagonals. I think we should measure out from the pole on the diagonals and see what we can see and if we can’t see anything then I think we just need to dig up on the diagonal lines until we find it.” suggested the Scientist.

“I think you are probably correct. There has been too much trampling. Lets give it a shot though,” agreed the Mechanic.

They tried two of the diagonals going away from the pole and found nothing. On the third diagonal they struck pay dirt at 450 mm. 

“How did you figure all this out? We would never have found it without your help,” said the Care Giver. 

“No, probably not. Maybe Greg was hoping one team would be successful and then help the other. Anyway, we have now completed the tasks and we need to put the two clues together so we can find the treasure,” said the Mechanic.

“What do you mean?” asked the Editor.

“The two clues are really one clue divided into two by alternating every other word. So, our clue is made of odd numbered words and yours by even numbered words,” replied the Scientist. “A little enigma puzzle.”

“Has your team removed all the sensory mufflers?” asked the Sporty Person.

“Yes, we took them off almost immediately and it did feel good,” responded the Scientist. “Our lot are now relaxing at the farm house. We came out here to see if you were getting on well or not and if not to offer help as your part of the clue was essential.”

“Good you did,” complemented First Nations.

“Lets get going then and leave these cows to their grass. I am impressed at how relaxed they have been with strangers invading their space,” commented the Farmer.

Mellie glanced in the direction of the loan cow and made a mental note to say something to Greg.

Chapter 7

At the end of the last thinking I referred to and suggested our ancient ancestors began to design and create tool systems. The leap undertaken is so crucial to what humanity has achieved, it is difficult to find words to relay the significance of what they accomplished. Maybe it is enough to suggest if they had not started on the design and create journey they would have remained in their gathering and scavenging state and all we are today would never have happened.

Earlier in these thinking sessions I have spoken about the Languages of Existence as the reason for the existence of the Universe. Here on this rock, our planet, the conditions were right for life to develop and flourish. Probably it continues to happen but so slowly we do not see it occurring. In any case, microbial life continues to exist and over billions of years other life forms have developed out of that soup, us included. Common to all of these life forms, indeed it is what largely defines life, is an ability and need to communicate. Each life form has its own language with which it communicates with its own kind and with other life forms.

Our ancient ancestors that took the leap began our journey by taking the Languages of Existence as they practiced it, and they adapted it for design and more complex communications. The foundation of everything we have accomplished, good and bad, is contained within this divergent notion of employing designed language for other design and development purposes. They began to create systems to create systems. They were no longer interested in accomplishing one independent result. They had identified connection and linkage, two revolutionary concepts. They had begun to realize one accomplishment could lead to others and they began looking for opportunities.

Today we refer to our knowledge societies, cultures, economies and so on. The difference between then and now is a matter of scale. To progress beyond the one independent event and result they required a more sophisticated language, one they could communicate ideas with, to remember, share, collaborate, cooperate and yes dominate. There was no eureka moment though when some individual sat down and wrote out a language. This was a slow incremental design process of improvement employing all the senses. The thing is we still use the same senses, but the overall package of languages is much more sophisticated and varied.  The purposes of language has grown hugely and today our societies exist on the shoulders of these languages. 

A slow incremental process of primitive methods of communication transitioning into a more complex array of possibilities must start somewhere. For our ancestors, the ones who took the leap away from normal for the time, they found ways of assigning more meaning to their communication methods, the grunts, screams and body languages. The more the body of sound, gesture, depiction and touch expanded the more their VABs and MEKs grew  in importance as guidance for decision-making and design. In effect, these early people were creating the first systems, the all important language systems from which many many other systems would grow. 

With these communication improvements it is interesting to note their bodies adapted, in particular their brains, to be able to process and store the new information being generated. It took a very long time though before the symbol with assigned meaning was created, probably growing out of the use of depiction initially and then sounds much later on. As the languages grew in sophistication so too their ability to conceptualize adding further to what they were communicating and to the thinking behind it all.

This is crucially important in our development. An idea is realized and from it more ideas follow. What follows depends upon what preceded for a starting point leading on to more ideas. 

The use of energy by humanity has been and also continues to be hugely important. Our ancients learned about the usefulness of fire, how to create it, store it and develop it as a tool for doing a variety of tasks such as cooking, lighting and heating spaces and warding off unwanted visitors. In time other uses were recognized and developed including to clear land and for military purposes. But it was not until the industrial revolution of the 18th century when the real explosion of uses occurred as the potential and possibilities of energy was becoming better understood. This leads us toward the inescapable, that systems would become dominant made possible and powered by energy.

Greg had observed both teams were back at the farmhouse and so made his way there wanting to know how the teams had done. He came around the corner, shirtless, all sweaty and obviously exhausted, but quite satisfied with his progress on the wood. A few more sessions he thought and the pile should be complete. He would let it dry in the sun and wind till near the end of August and then haul it into the woodshed for the winter. Then he would have to start over for the next years supply. A wonderful thing wood heat he had been thinking and keeps me fit too.

“You look like you have been in the trenches,” observed the Politician. “Can I get you anything, maybe one of your cold beers Mellie so kindly made available to us?”

“Oh, thanks, but I think I can manage. Ah, no need I suppose. Thanks,” he said as Mellie handed him a cold one and he felt the touch of a finger sending small shivers up and down his back. Just a chance touch he reasoned.

“Well, both teams here in good time. I suppose that means, I hope that means you were successful with the tasks. I suppose I should have made them harder,” said Greg.

“No, I think our consensus is they were plenty hard enough made even harder by the sense mufflers,” replied First Nations. “Without a couple of lucky breaks it is quite likely you would have to rescue us.”

“Not my job. I left that task up to Sarah and Mellie even though they did not know the tasks fully. I believe there were unknowns for everyone. But, here you are and it will be interesting for me to hear over lunch how you figured everything out.”

“So, what is planned for lunch?” asked the Sporty Person.

“Nothing,” replied Greg. “That is to say I do not have a lunch ready to pull out. There are ingredients of course and it is your task to prepare something. That is as far as my planning went, oh and the refreshments of course.”

“And where are these ingredients?” asked his dad.

“Primarily in the freezer room and in the garden,” replied Greg.

“The garden I saw, but my reconnaissance did not discover a freezer,” observed his dad.

“No, probably not as the freezer room is somewhat hidden,” said Greg.

“And why is that?” asked the Editor.

“I did not hide it on purpose. It is just the concept for it required a very well insulated space and the best space I could think of was in the ground. There is an inconspicuous entry to it off the basement. If you, dad and the Minister would care to follow, I will give you the tour. Mellie, can you come too as you will be here for a little while and maybe you can help lug things out for the lunch feast. While we are hunting in the basement maybe some of you, those who know what a carrot looks like, should raid the garden.”

“Right up my street,” responded the Farmer.

“And you said lunch was not planned?” quizzed First Nations.

“Yup, the lunch is up to you lot. My plan was to have you lot here. In your searches you might also think about dinner to be prepared over an open fire.”

“Ah, I can help with that,” offered the Sporty Person. 

“As long as it isn’t baked beans from a tin,” quipped the Editor. “I have been on one of your outings and know how bad your baked beans can be.”

“I did not offer to cook, just to get the fire going.”

“Well, I suppose that works. Now we need to find the outdoor chefs.” 

“Ah, living on the streets gives one many skills, including street haut cuisine. Do you have a big heavy cast iron pot Greg?” asked  his dad.

“Yes, I have one I think you might recognize. We can dig it out later along with any other utensils you might think useful.”

Greg’s hunting party left for the basement while the Farmer, the Nurse, First Nations and Sarah headed for the garden. The remaining loungers turned their attention to the clues and what it might mean. Altogether the clue read as follows: “Davey Jones would be proud to know he had not been forgotten.”

“The only Davey Jones I can think of was a Monkee,” offered the Mechanic.

“So, your favourite group then?” the Politician enquired.

“Hardly! They were just one of the bands of the day and without the TV show would not have amounted to much.”

“I have been considering this clue for a bit and other than the reference to a Davey Jones, I just can’t see anything in the rest of the sentence. It seems clueless,” commented the Care Giver.

“You think Davey Jones is the key to opening the treasure chest,” asked the Sporty Person.

“Well, yes except we have not found the chest yet making my suggestion just a suggestion. You lot must have some ideas,” said the Care Giver.

“Does Greg have any old records out here, such as a Monkees album?” enquired the Librarian. “Maybe we should do a quick hunt in the house, find his music archive and see if he had a passion for The Monkees. Maybe there will be something in the album cover.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard to find. Let’s try the sitting room and then go on from there if we have to,” suggested the Politician, thinking in her mind it would be a chance to learn more about Greg.

They rose together and with the Politician in the lead invaded Greg’s private sanctum, although he had not specified no go areas. In fact quite the opposite, he seemed happy to let people wander anywhere. The Care Giver found the stash of records in the cupboard below the old record player. She determined the records were in alphabetical order rather than genre, went to the M’s and found a Monkeys album just before Mozart. A world apart she thought and then wondered if the Monkeys borrowed music from people such as Mozart. She carefully removed the album and opened the cover a bit to peer inside and sure enough there was a note of some sort.

As she opened the note she said, “The trail of the treasure seems to be never ending. Here is what he wrote to us, “Good guess, but you are wrong. Try again.””

“Sounds a bit like Monopoly,” offered the Librarian

As they were sitting there pondering the non-result the basement hunting party returned. Greg was last to appear, saw the group in the sitting room over by his records and gave them a big smile. He could see what they had found.

The garden party were also returning with bowls full of veggies. They had calculated with lunch and dinner a good supply was required and thought why pick twice when you can do it once for two meals. There was a mountain of food on the counter and now someone had to make sense of it all and decide what to cook. All eyes turned to the DisPerson for inspiration. His inclination was salads for lunch and a big, very big stew for dinner. They had everything required. He assumed control and started to delegate duties for the preparations. 

The treasure hunters drifted into the kitchen at this point and asked if anyone had any idea they could pursue to find the unfound treasure. Somewhat out of context Mellie responded with a tangent comment, “If anyone unoccupied in meal preparation is interested in a swim before lunch I’ll show you where the pool is located.” Greg, who had been sitting looking at a book in the corner instantly looked up at Mellie. She had been expecting this and was ready with a two word silent mouthed comment only Greg could see. “I know.” Greg went back to his book thinking Champaign would go well with  a salad lunch.

“Well, I would enjoy a swim just now. Where is the pool?” asked the politician.

Mellie responded with, “It is a hidden treasure in bear infested country.” Greg smiled.

“Yup, I’ll go too,” echoed Sarah. “I’ll fetch some towels.”

“Is this pool party for women only or can a man join in the venture?” enquired the Mechanic. 

“No restrictions,” replied Mellie. “In fact some muscle power may be an advantage.”

“Muscle for what?” enquired the Sporty Person.

“Keeping the bears away of course,” said Mellie.

“I’ll go too,” stated the Editor.

“Well, we have lots of towels, so if anyone wants to get wet just follow the growing hoard of bathers,” said Sarah.

“Are you coming Greg?” asked the politician.

“No, I should stay with the chefs in case they need something and don’t know where to find it. Besides, the octopus is usually out at this time of day and he is not my favourite creature.”

First Nations slapped his knee and said, “That is a good one. I’ll go because I think there is a message to us somewhere in all this chat. An octopus in fresh water, sounds mythological.”

With towels in a big bag Mellie was about to start off in the direction of the pool, remembered the cow lying in the pasture and mentioned it to Greg. Greg’s reaction and response was swift. He had not expected the birthing to be quite so soon. 

“Come on Mellie, your pool adventure will be slightly delayed. We have a pregnant cow to check,” said Greg. “Sarah you can lead the bathers to the pool. Mellie and I have a little chore to do before joining in.”

The guests were now split into two groups, the chefs and the bathers and neither group expected to find the treasure before lunch. Greg on the other hand new what Mellie had intended doing and had started to work out a plan for carrying the lunch to the pool. Lunch, bubbly and recounting the task solutions on the rocks around the pool sounded good to him. But, first he and Mellie had to check the cow. 

He was not really worried as this cow had delivered easily in the past. This time he expected would be similar. They reached the pasture in about ten minutes of brisk walking, Mellie struggling slightly to keep up with Greg’s longer legged stride. They arrived to find the cow still cleaning her newly born calf, Greg estimating the birth occurring about an hour earlier.

“Ah, good,” Greg said. “too bad we missed the delivery. If everything goes well it is a joy to watch.” 

“I’ve never seen a newborn calf before. Isn’t this a little exposed? Aren’t they vulnerable out here?” Mellie asked.

“Not really. The rest of the cows are close and a day-time birth tends to be safest. “

“What is it a she or he?”

“By the size I am guessing a little girl. Just go gently and we can have a look.”

They inched forward as Greg spoke gently to the mother. Kneeling beside the calf Greg took a quick look at the calf’s rear end confirming his previous guess. They stayed crouched for a few minutes as the cow continued to clean her calf. Mellie had never experienced anything quite so marvellous. 

“Now we rise slowly, don’t want to alarm mother, back away and leave them to get on. We will have to check again later to make sure the calf is suckling and there are no obvious problems. Looks fine just now,” Greg explained. “We need to get back with the guests and make sure everything is going smoothly.”

“I do definitely want to visit these two again. I could just sit here and watch,” she suggested. 

“Nope, you are needed back at the pool. You need to continue what you started with Davey Jones.” 

“Ok, I’ll come back out later to see them.” 

“Fine and tomorrow before we return to the apartment we need to tag the little girl before she gets too frisky and difficult to catch,” Greg said. 

They returned to the house at a more leisurely pace as Mellie asked a few questions about cows and calves all the while going over the images she had just witnessed. At the house Greg suggested she catch up with the pool party while he and the chefs would put finishing touches on the lunch and organize to get it to the pool.

“Can I borrow one of your chefs? I need a bit of help to get a few things together so we can follow them with the food.”

“Sure, take away. We are getting on well with the preps. Maybe the Nurse can go with you.”

“I’m OK with that. This all sounds mysterious to me. Lead on Greg,”  said the Nurse.

As they went out of the house Greg told the Nurse they were going to look for a large tray to carry all the food to the pool. He thought two pair of eyes would be better than one pair. He wanted it to be strong enough to carry the food and easy to carry. They went off toward the barn to see what they could find, although Greg did have a good  idea what he wanted to use. 

In the meantime the bathers had reached the pool, but it seemed did not know what to do upon arrival. Sarah was reluctant to just strip and jump in. Her inhibitions had taken hold. The rest seemed to need someone to take the lead. 

Mellie arrived finding them in this state of uncertainty. She paused only briefly stripped and jumped in. Following her lead the rest of the bathers starting taking off some or all their clothes and joined her with little shudders from the water temperature. 

With everyone in including Sarah who had also stripped skinny, Mellie simply said, “You know, Davy Jones might have been here.”

“You are referring to Davy Jones of the locker fame I do believe,” commented First Nations. “So, is the treasure in the locker and is the locker at the bottom of this freshwater sea guarded by the fresh water octopus?”

“Well, what an interesting idea. I wonder if you are correct?” replied Mellie. “Maybe we need to send divers into the murky depths to find out if your theory holds water. Any volunteers?” she asked as she felt the ribs on the chest beneath her feet.

“Sure, I’ll have a go,” volunteered the Sporty Person. 

“Maybe we should take it in turn so we can look at the whole pool more quickly,” suggested the Mechanic. “If we started here we could just keep on going around the pool diving in turn until someone sees what we are looking for.” 

“Sounds like a good idea unless some of you are not comfortable searching around in the murky depths,” replied Mellie.

No one objected so the Mechanic started, was under water for about ten-seconds, surfaced and indicated he did not see anything. The Sporty Person was next and a similar result occurred followed in turn by the rest of the bathers. Mellie declined to dive saying it was their responsibility to figure out the puzzle. She continued to stand on the chest about half-way around the pool. It was the Politician who dove near her. 

She surfaced with the exclamation, “I think the treasure is found or at least a chest in which a treasure might be hidden. The problem is, Mellie is standing on it and so she will have to move so we can lift it out.”

“I am standing on it? No way and here I thought it was a ledge. Well well, I will certainly move so you lot can hoist it out.” 

In a few strokes Mellie was at a convenient place to climb out of the pool, did so and wrapped herself in a towel.

The Mechanic dove for a look and surfaced saying there are handles and what looks like a strap to lift it out with. He dove again, got hold of the strap and brought the end back to the surface. Then he suggested two people lift it out from the rocks above as it would be easier than trying to move it to where Mellie got out. First Nations and the Sporty Person obliged soon having the water filled chest safely on the rocks. Now they could have a good look at it and were disappointed to see a padlock securing the lid in place. 

“A key a key oh for a key,” sang the Mechanic. “Any ideas where it might be found? Mellie you seem to have insider information. Any hints?”

“In this matter I cannot help. I am in the dark as much as you. And as far as insider information is concerned, yes I knew it was here, but only because when swimming here the other day I stood on it as I did just now. More than that I do not know.”

Sarah, who had not said very much at all up to then, suggested. “Maybe we should look at or feel the underside of the chest.”

“Worth a try,” agreed the mechanic. “If we tip it up a bit you can do a bottom feel so to speak.”

They did, she did and with a bit of effort was able to peel the tape back to release an old skeleton key. She then fitted it into the lock, turned it to find it worked perfectly. The lock fell open and Sarah removed it from the latch. 

“Shall we just open it or do we take it to the house for everyone to participate?” asked the Politician. “Maybe best if everyone is around to see what we have found.”

The bathers then heard voices approaching and were able to identify them as belonging to the rest of the guests. What they saw was impressive. Greg and the Nurse had fashioned a wonderful long tray with which they carried tubs, plates, folding chairs and other items required for a real honest to goodness picnic. What the chefs saw in turn was a group of people in different states of attire standing around and behind a chest on the rocks beside the pool.

In the lead Greg’s dad threw out the questions most of the rest of the chefs party were wondering. 

“What have you found? Is that the treasure we have been seeking all day? Where did you dig it up from? Most important, what is in it?”

“A chest, don’t know, the pool and don’t know, in that order,” replied the Editor. “To be a little more precise, we just hauled it out of the pool and we were about to bring it back to the house for all to see as it was opened. Guess the picnic is here though.”

“Yup, you got that right,” the Nurse pointed out. “As for me I am drooling to get in the pool. It looks so inviting I could stay in there for the rest of the afternoon, if it is warm enough. Treasure enough.”

“Well, I think we should leave the chest where it is and ask our hosts to reveal the treasure. We completed the tasks, but they set it all up and I know it took many more days to do that,” commented First Nations. 

“I agree and although we did the tasks, I am doubtful we would have found the treasure without their hints and help,” offered the  Mechanic.

“I will let Mellie have the honours as in the end this little pool trip was her idea. I just played along. Besides, I know what is in the chest, but Mellie doesn’t so it would be good to see the reaction on her face.” 

Mellie, now clothed in her philosophical T-shirt agreed to reveal the contents and took a position beside the chest. 

“Here goes. It feels a bit like Christmas. OOOOO, you will like this I am sure. Glasses for everyone, very good glasses too and to put in your glasses we have, drum roll please, real honest to goodness Champaign, lots of chocolate and some single malt whiskey to relax with after we stuff ourselves with whatever you chefs have prepared.”

“Right, lets get the rest of this celebration of the finding of the treasure on the go. Chefs, we need to set out our handy work so these loafers can fill their bellies. I think the high rocks over here would be good, a natural buffet. Greg, maybe you and Mellie could pour and before we tuck in we should pause to make a toast,” directed Greg’s dad.

As if it was well rehearsed the chefs and Mellie and Greg went about their preparations. Soon it was all laid out ready for the ceremonial first plate filling, the honour given to Greg’s dad for his direction and creative menu selection. 

In a bit everyone had a glass of Champaign, full plates and were sitting in the chairs or lounging on the rocks and grass. Only the nurse, who had stripped earlier, chose to have her fare from in the pool, plate and glass on a rock at the pool edge and arms outstretched on the rocks for support. 

The toast became a string of toasts. Many of the guests had something to say, even if only to say thank you Greg and all you wonderful people. 

When everyone had finished saying what they wanted to say Greg took advantage of the lull and asked for a summary from teams Mellie and Sarah about fulfilling the three tasks. These were given and it seemed in the end there was unanimous agreement everyone’s contribution was essential in the groups effort to find the treasure. 

In a while with everyone suitably stuffed, Greg explained the next event and promised it would not be so difficult and they could do it where they were just now. He asked Mellie and Sarah to be scribes with Mellie recording the response word/phrase and associated explanation and Sarah to record any additional comments. He hoped it would be controlled pandemonium and stated four rules: 1. He would state the thread word for each guest in the order he had determined. 2. He would then call for the response word/phrase from each guest in response to either the thread word or the response word given by the previous guest’s response. He would then ask the responder if they had any comments concerning their choice of response word. 3. There were to be no word or phrase repeats. 4. Heckling and other comments encouraged after each word association response by any of the guests before the next call for a response. Greg then said he hoped the word association game would move along quickly in part to ensure the idea of word association and to get through the list of thread words he had prepared. Finally he asked everyone to speak loudly and clearly so nothing would be missed. 

“Does anyone have a question about how we will proceed?”

“Am I correct in understanding when it is our turn to respond we can choose to respond to just two words, the thread word or the previous response word?” enquired the Editor.

“Yes, exactly,” said Greg.

“If my response word is the same as a previously used response word do I pass or select another word?” asked the Minister.

“Please select another word brought to mind by the thread word or the previous response word. Any other questions? I can guide you through the first few responses so you get a good sense of how it works. Right, if there are no questions and everyone is comfortable lets get going.”

“The order of responders will be as follows: First Nations, Minister, Librarian, Care Giver, Sporty Person, Nurse, Mechanic, Politician, Dad, Farmer, Editor, Scientist. Scribes, are you ready? Nodding I hope means yes. More nodding, then lets get going. The first word for you First Nations is, “remote”. Do you have an association word?”

“Yes.”

“What is it please?”

“Ottawa.” 

“Do you have any additional comments?”

“Yes, Ottawa is distant from our communities and it has never really understood or cared to understand the impact of their decisions on my people.”

“Any other comments from anyone?”

“Do you think you have been uniquely ignored?” asked the Politician.

“I did not say ignored, although that has certainly happened,” replied First Nations, “far from it, really. They did not ignore us. Indeed, they could not ignore us. We were and are an inconvenience. Ottawa has for the most part simply made decisions for the benefits and beliefs of other interests and has not been overly concerned with the impact on my people. If they had been concerned then clean water and equal funding for students and the education system would have been dealt with from the start. That is just two of many outstanding issues, historical and current.”

“Any other comments? No? Then, Minister your word association is with either “remote” or “Ottawa”. Do you have a response and for which word?”

“Yes, my response to ‘remote’ is ‘hierarchy’”. 

“And your explanation?”

“Ministering and generally working in the grass roots of society is a million miles away from the few decision-makers in positions of power and authority. I have witnessed this many times in my ministry and with NGOs. Hierarchy breeds remoteness.”

“Any comments?”

“This is heavy stuff,” commented the Sporty Person.

“Well then, if you think it is required, please inject humour at any time,” replied Greg.

“If I may, your suggestion is interesting,” commented the Editor. “My experience suggests hierarchy also muffles good thinking. People tend to ‘pass the buck’ or are required to do so instead of taking responsibility and thinking through a solution.”

“And because they are not thinking it is so easy not to be engaged,” replied the Minister. “It seems to be a bit of a circle.”

“Now without further comment, Librarian it is your turn. Have you a word association for either remote or hierarchy?”

“Oh, definitely for remote and my word association is ‘control’. My bloody remote control is not working. I don’t know how many of the things I have had over the years. They just seem to stop working and changing batteries does not help. So, I need another new one. Now as with so many things there are two sides to the coin. When we talk about a remote control the thinking going along with it is we are doing the control of the apparatus remotely. But the reverse can also be true. The apparatus, what it does and says can control us. We had to turn dials and now we just push buttons and soon we will probably just have to think the instruction. The message comes back to us and we respond, we engage in a dialogue of sorts with the apparatus. So, I use the remote control to make a choice about what I want to watch or listen to and in turn the messages emanating from the apparatus tell me what to think, what is important and how to act.”

“Well, if there are no comments we move on to Care Giver. You have a choice between remote and control.”

“This is a difficult choice,” she reflected sitting on the rock edge of the pool with feet dangling in the water. “These two words go so well together, but in the work I do remote is not a notion I identify with. In fact I tend to be in the moment and in the place with the people I look after. So, my word association for remote is near because I tend to be nearby.”

“But, what about all those circumstances in your life where you are controlled remotely by someone or some organization?” asked the Nurse.

“I know what you mean I think, but really I do not dwell on that stuff. I just get on with things. If someone needs assistance and I am asked to provide it, well that is what I do.”

“Good, any other comments. No? OK we move on to Sporty Person and your words are remote and near.”

“It is strange and somewhat surprising for me to say the Care Giver and I seem to have more in common than I expected. I also enjoy experiencing the moment, the action and place I happen to be in. There is so much here and now I rarely have time or the inclination to be thinking about things I have nothing to do with, at least consciously. Like the Care Giver I just get on with the activity in the place where I am located. That is my focus and focus is my word for near.”

“Do you ever step out of the moment to, for example relive an experience or to anticipate one?” asked the Nurse just before she pushed off from the rocks for a glide through the water on her back. 

“Oh sure and I suppose some clever Joe could point out all the times and circumstances when I am not focused. Lets just say my gut feeling overall suggests I am in the here and now more often than not.”

“Right, next is the Nurse. Maybe you could grab a rock and tell us your word in association for either remote or focus.”

She was silent as she breast stroked to the edge of the pool and remained silent as she climbed the rock steps to retrieve a towel and then a glass of wine. She then chose a perch, sat down and started.

“I thought we might have gone further with remote and control. Well, we didn’t and so I am not sure what all of you will think about my word, a word I thought someone else would have used by now. Really my word in association with remote combines to make an oxymoron. My word is sensing or sensitivity and just as with control, I believe there are many implications we are ignorant about or choose not to give attention to.” 

“So, we are sensual beings. We rely on our senses and brains to make it through life. Our senses work best when they can function for us. Remote sensing raises some kind of barrier between us and what we are trying to be aware of. This is where the oxymoron takes flight. While remote sensing gives us greater space to survey through technology at the same time most of our senses are decommissioned. Yes, we might see further and into areas we could not possibly see or touch or smell, but seeing or hearing through remote sensing equipment gives us a false sense in that the whole story is not told. We only get a part of it and only the part made available through technology as designed and  controlled by someone else.” 

“Sometimes it works well and at other times it diminishes our intimate sensual relationship with a place or circumstance. So for example, we can now operate on people remotely. That is a doctor can be in another city on a computer controlling equipment in a theatre, operating room, somewhere on the other side of the world or can be giving instructions to a doctor actually doing the surgery. Wonderful if it works and there are no complications such as maybe a power outage.” 

“Diminished association occurs every time we get in our cars, turn on the air conditioning and the radio, we divorce from the spaces around us. We no longer fully sense the environment around about. We forgo the subtle beauty of life. With diminished awareness the risk factor may be increased.”

“I am not sure where all that came from, but it is what I believe. In some ways we have enhanced our sensitivity, but in other serious ways we have diminished our connections to our surroundings.”

“So, just in terms of technology you are saying some technology allows us to be more intimate and other technologies makes us more remote,” Greg suggested.

“Yes, and while we benefit from some we pay a price for others and by the way it does not just involve technology.”

“Any questions, comments? Well then, we move on to the Mechanic. What word …”

“Not so fast Greg,” interjected the Editor. “The Nurse has sort of laid down a challenge. She is asking us to respond and I will say in response that for the most part we are far better off with our technologies than if we never had them. In my own area of journalism our ability to collect and disseminate news has never been greater and that is a good thing.”

“But, along with the efficiencies and the increased scale and scope comes a tremendous cost,” said the Scientist. “Technological improvements, no wrong word, maybe advances are not always positive. The world is awash with technology and along with the scale of increase has come all sorts of problems we choose to ignore until it hits us between the eyes. We are crisis respondents partly due to technological barriers. The flood gates keep the flood out but only until mother nature’s fury exceeds the capability of the technology to hold it back.”

“Oh, I do not disagree with that, but just for a moment if you can, imagine a world without technology,” replied the Editor. “We would still be hunter gatherers. Sure, there are often, maybe always, two sides to the coin. Again in journalism, great gains, but also some looming issues I am not blind to. Scale and cost efficiencies may be at the heart of the matter. I said our ability to collect and disseminate has never been greater, but we are also centralizing for various reasons on the back of technology at the expense of local reporting and news.”

“I want to point out  there is much more at play than simply technology. Our present circumstances are not  caused by technology alone. Lets just say we would be different without the technological advancements. Hunter gatherers also relied on technology, but they depended a great deal on collaboration and coordination in their social groupings,” commented the Librarian. “Just as a point of clarification, I think we need to be really clear about our use of the word technologies. It is or has become a catch all word for I think machinery and tools when in fact it is about a way of thinking that leads to tools and other social and industrial organization.”

“Can I jump in for a moment? Are you saying technology is a way of thinking culminating in a design process?” queried Greg. “Ultimately does this design process produce systems of various sorts?”

“In short that sounds like what I am suggesting.”

“So, are we in love with the machinery then or the process employed to get there?” asked the Nurse. 

“As you might expect for anyone who knows me and my fascination for things mechanical, I read a little book some years ago about Zen and Motor Cycle Maintenance,” reflected the Mechanic. “The author at one point was trying to distinguish between those who simply want the machine to work and those who want to know how the machine works. I think at least in part this is what the Nurse was referring to with her reference to sensitivity. Someone can be totally absorbed in the here and now in the workings of a machine while someone else is in another world mentally, maybe no less engaged but, engaged differently. I guess we all have our likes and dislikes and we cannot know or do everything.”

“Getting back to the Nurse’s last question, I think there is another option, at least one other option and it may drive everything we do and that is our value system,” commented First Nations. “We pursue what we value as good and design accordingly. Unfortunately what we perceive to be good as an individual for a particular reason is not always a broader good.” 

“Those who reasoned residential schools were good and those who continued to support them over the years of abuse considered only their perspective, not the perspective of the First Nations.” 

“There are lots of opportunities for sensitivity to be pushed aside especially in our apparent fast paced world. The machine or systems at large represent a goal to be achieved. The technological process and other processes are employed to get to the goal. The value system including attitudes and beliefs, drives everything, but as the Zen book points out your values and interests are not necessarily my values and interests.” 

“If we had paid attention in the 60’s through the 80’s to those who were saying green house gases are going to be a problem and we need to start to alter our use of fossil fuels, we might not be in the predicament now experienced by so many people around the world.” 

“Again, unfortunately, the consequences of our decisions and actions cannot always be anticipated or we choose to ignore the obvious. I don’t know what people expect to happen if my peoples’ education is underfunded. What is the goal? I will tell you the result is an underclass of people neither capable in their own traditions or in the broader society. The consequences are tragic and a very large waste in human and cultural resources. I have said enough. Someone else’s turn to wax philosophical.”

“If nobody minds I would like to put in my two cents worth,” requested the Politician. “I do not question the importance of values. What I do question is who’s values are we talking about? I think in what you just said First Nations there are contradictions. The fact of the matter is you cannot have it both ways. I do not believe you can have an over-weight bureaucratic system providing for the subtleties and nuances of individuals. Rather we require a system allowing for individual requirements and preferences encouraging and allowing for them to be resilient and strong and productive. The bureaucratic state should only be involved in setting out very basic guidance, rules and regulations.” 

“Societal values and their associated value systems are over-rated and not necessarily effective, as for example with residential schools. If we protect the rights of the individual then the individual can thrive and so too society. A bureaucracy is notoriously insensitive, slow to react and must abide by its own systemic rules and regulations. An individual as either system participant or recipient is not welcome in such a system. Sensitivity to needs and preferences is important and only the individual can really decide of what those specific needs and preferences consist. Attempts to state our values as common and to enshrine them in policy and legislation is largely a waste of time, highly restrictive over time and a huge cost when all we really need to do is let the individual make a choice. It is the accumulation of individual choices based upon individual values, not imposed values from bureaucracy, that should be setting out the direction in which society moves.  The only way of doing that effectively and efficiently is through the market. The market will respond to our individual value choices far more sensitively than bureaucracy ever will be able to do.”

“As you spoke I was agreeing with some of what you said, not all and then you spoiled your good comments by saying the market is best. Not a good way to end,” suggested Greg’s dad. “Do you really believe everything should be left to uh, the wisdom of the market? I suggest to you the market and in particular the large scale players in the market represent just another bureaucratic state far removed from the individual and they are playing their own particular games with us and our environments. Heaven knows I have had issues with bureaucracy, but when I look around and see or hear about the consequences of market decisions and the treatment of individuals I cannot help but think I am comforted somewhat by knowing our bureaucracies are there to help keep the market uh in check. I cannot think of anything more scary than an unfettered market.”

“If not the market and not bureaucracy, then what?” asked Greg.

“I hate to repeat myself, no that is not true, sometimes I think it is necessary to repeat myself and so I will. It is not so black and white,” restated the Librarian. “One of our, humanities, most fundamental problems is lurching to and fro from one ideology to another and to another and so on. Each shift is saddled with legacy and a new shell is imposed on the old model. When you add it all up, however, we are really just dealing with variations on a theme of governance, not black or white but grey.” 

“The problem or question is not so much which system, but rather how can we make the systems we have more effective and efficient. I would shutter to see us governed by the boardroom as much as I would not relish a bureaucracy making all our decisions for us. But, in fact I do believe that is where we are headed, toward a system where the boardroom and the legislature and maybe the courts will be involved in a power struggle the individual will not understand let alone care about until the consequences come knocking on their doors and then it will be too late.”

“I am afraid I do not have much to add to this discussion. It all seems a bit, well high and mighty for me” apologized the Care Giver. “I will only add this. I have worked for various bosses over my career, largely as a care giver but in different situations and circumstances and I have found no system to be perfect. Corner cutting, indecision, delay, waste, bad decisions, I have had to deal with them all and the ones who suffer are the ones most in need of attention. From my experiences I have concluded it is not so much which system or sector one deals with but rather the level of sensitivity of the system and the individuals making policy decisions concerning the clients requirements and their various associated issues. I don’t think it matters if you are dealing with a bottom line or a protocol, if the sensitivity is absent so too will be the level of required care. The quality of care I can give is heavily dependent upon the decisions of others and the constraints they impose on myself and the clients I am trying to help. I think the Nurse was right, remote sensitivity is an oxymoron.”

“So, it may be an oxymoron, but does it really matter?” asked the Sporty Person. “We have all kinds of remote sensing tools to choose from allowing us to see and do things in ways never before possible. If I want to know what the weather will be one or two or three hours from now I can find out and make an appropriate decision about a hiking venture. These tools let you see the big and minute. It is then what you do with the information.” 

“I do not believe it is quite as simple or black and white as you suggest. I am more inclined to agree with the Librarian,” Mellie interjected. “There is a lot of grey and that means there is a huge responsibility on the shoulders of the users to get the use of the information right. We can’t just park our consciousness and conscience at the door before going in to employ the toys. In fact the more we do exactly that the further removed we become from humanity and our environment. I believe we must get our hands dirty with experience to begin to fully comprehend what is going on and to maintain a skill set to enable us to constantly challenge the tools of remote sensing. We do not nor cannot live in a vacuum and yet that is the direction in which technology has taken us. It is not all bad of course, but we must recognize our responsibility to ensure our actions are positive for society as a whole and the environment. I am not a fan of remote sensitivity because there is too much room for error. Rather, we need to exercise more proximate, engaged sensitivity.”

After a brief quiet Greg asked if there were more comments or questions or was the feeling the discussion had run its course. He asked Sarah if she had any comments as she so far had said nothing while writing many notes in an attempt to capture the flavour of the discussion. She said no and Greg then suggested it was relaxing time and maybe time to begin to prepare for dinner which would involve getting the bonfire going for whatever everyone wanted to cook. The freezer was waiting to be thinned in combination with the veg already taken from the garden. In the meantime there is more drink, snacks and the pool beckons for those so inclined. 

“I believe Sporty Person you have volunteered to get the fire going. I’ll show you where all the bits and pieces are located, the fuel pile and then it is up to you lot as to what we have for dinner.”

Greg felt a bit exhausted having monitored the discussions, some points well made and relevant others, well just different. Although tired he now wanted a little peace and intended to tackle a mucky issue around the barn. Often, even though mentally tired, he could be reinvigorated with some physical work and simultaneously could put his mind to current thoughts concerning his aside dialogue, all of which he recorded as he opened his mind to the subject at hand. 

The fire pit was only a short distance from the rock pool and consisted of a well formed, robust and ample rock surround about 3.5 m in diameter. At the centre stood a tripod made from iron wood. The tripod base was about 2 m across and fit very well into the larger surrounding rock enclosure. 

The enclosure did not form a solid wind break, but rather had been built with numerous gaps, especially at its base to let air penetrate to the actual fire pit. Above and offering limited weather protection, Greg had erected a roof extending out beyond the outer edge of the rock enclosure. He thought the arrangement might work for inclement bonfires and had left a centre hole for smoke to rise away. 

Surrounding the enclosure was a collection of chairs of different formations added over the years, some he had made and some others had it seemed thrown together without much thought toward comfort or longevity.

He now pointed out to the Sporty Person where to locate the essentials for lighting and building their fire. Paper and matches were in a water tight metal box located in one of the gaps in the rock enclosure while kindling and larger pieces of wood were to be found in a small shelter some 3 m from the pit. Pokers and lifters were scattered around the inside of the enclosure leaning against the stone. Finally Greg explained and briefly demonstrated how the rack, made from an old iron wheel rim, above the pit could be raised and lowered for cooking purposes. 

“So, you are now on your own. It is not quite like the kitchen in the warehouse, but it should do the job. You just need the others to mobilize for food preparation. There are cutting boards and knives by the firewood shelter.”

The Sporty Person, obviously impressed, assured Greg they should be fine and as they were in shouting distance he thought he could encourage them to get their collective asses in gear. 

Indeed, as he spoke the Minister, the Care Giver, the Librarian and a few others all seemed to be drifting in their direction probably to check out the facilities and devise a plan. Greg could also hear shouts and giggles coming from the rock pool suggesting the rest of the group had opted for a swim in what states of attire he knew not.

Not wanting to be engaged by those drifting to the pit, Greg took his leave and headed toward the barn.  

Mellie too was in a restless mood and felt she wanted to get her hands into something physical. She had climbed from the pool, towelled and put on a t-shirt and shorts before heading in the same direction as Greg, the Sporty Person and the drifter group. As she moved away from the pool area, beyond the pit she saw Greg wandering off toward the barn. Instead of following in a direct line she turned right and went toward the house intending to go around the house and thus avoid the fire pit crew. She had no idea why he was going toward the barn, but felt maybe there would be some work she could do to satisfy her physical craving and after all, at least in theory, that was why she was here to help and hopefully learn from Greg. As she rounded the house in the distance she just caught sight of Greg disappearing around the far corner of the barn into an area she had not yet explored.

Chapter 8

Greg did not think he would be needed soon and felt an hour-and-a-half would allow him a good amount of time to at least get a really good start on unblocking the old drainage course leading from the rear paddock of the barn into the wetland about 25 m away.  

Over many years, long before he and Rose acquired the farm, the course had backed up with silt and manure from run-off. Essentially it no longer worked, a pity he thought as it had been built with thought and care. 

He could see from some of the exposed rock the course or ditch was very likely to be well formed and highly effective at removing excess moisture from around the barn. Indeed, some winters ago, not long after acquiring the farm, Greg had witnessed during one winter of freeze-thaw-freeze-thaw-freeze the ice build up had entered into the barn. It had been a serious mess and posed structural problems. Fortunately, a repeat of those conditions had not occurred, but it did not mean it would never happen again. Now years later he was going to clear the stone ditch to make sure it did not happen again.

Greg had explored the ditch previously by lifting a few shovels of the mucky silty stuff, but only to get a sense of the moisture content and the depth of the course. Now he was really going to put his back into it. With shirt off, shovel in hand and a couple of wheel barrows by his side he was ready to switch on the recorder and start digging. Just then Mellie appeared out of nowhere. Immediately, he felt his plan was in jeopardy.

“Hi, saw you disappear around the barn so thought I would come over and see what you were doing thinking maybe there would be a bit of work I could get tucked into.”

Greg was now leaning on the handle of his shovel with his chin resting on his hand at the top of the handle. 

“Well, if you are keen to bust your back I was about to start to clear out this ditch.”

“What ditch?”

“It is that bad? Ok, there is a ditch here that should be but isn’t taking drainage from the barn as it is silted up. I need to clean it out. I believe it runs down to the edge of the wetland ending between those two large stones.”

“That is some ditch. Can I help?”

“For sure you can help. There is another shovel maybe more your size over there. If you start at the bottom and begin to work your way up toward me I will go from here and work down toward you. We should meet somewhere in-between.”

“What do I do with the dirt?” she asked.

“You can take one of the wheelbarrows and we will dump the silt on that flat area. Later I will spread it on the garden. Ah, you’ll probably hear me talking to myself while we work. I like to take these moments to record thoughts and I feel a moment of contemplation coming on.”

“Ok, I will work in silence. Just pretend I am not here. Other than the odd groan or grunt I should be inconspicuous.”

“Good, see you somewhere in the middle.” 

Greg made faster progress clearing silt from the ditch for two reasons, he was stronger and could move more than Mellie, but also because the ditch where he dug was relatively shallow compared to Mellie’s end. Moving more from a shallower depth meant faster linear progress. 

For her part Mellie was not concerned about speed, she just wanted to be physical and if she got a bit mucky while digging, so-be-it. Very quickly, just working in sneakers and shorts, the mucky started to happen. 

“This is fun,” she said.

Greg was well into the digging/clearing before his mind started to wander into another thinking. The job had actually taken more of his concentration than he expected, but once a rhythm was established he became more engaged with his thoughts.

While dinner is being prepared I want to continue my exploration of systems, but first a bit of a summary. At the beginning or prior to what we consider the beginning there were the Languages of Existence, the condition making all systems possible, inanimate, flora and fauna and cultural / technological. 

Now imagine for a moment a primordial London fog consisting of all the elements of the Universe. These elements are matter, contain energy and are in different states of motion. Inevitably, elements come in contact with other elements. Some elements combine, some are repulsed and some are blown apart. Common in all contact and close encounters is an exchange of information resulting in attraction, linkage or repulsion. The Languages of Existence carries the information, the signature identification, forms bonds or rejects due to incompatibility. Gradually the chaotic randomness in the fog coalesces and combined elements grow in size and strength depending on which elements are involved and on the strength of the bonding language employed. As all this sorting out occurs a system forms, a system called the Universe comprised of extreme micro and macro elements and everything in between.

Within the Languages of Existence two highly integrated systems developed, energy systems and matter as illustrated by the periodic table. Then the mysteries of life formed on the foundation of an ability to communicate, consume and reproduce within what we call biology, ecology or eco-systems. Within eco-systems there are two of many branches I want to high-light, the limited design capability of most life forms and the extensive design capability of humanity. For the remainder of this thinking and beyond I will concentrate on the latter.

Humanity’s great achievement has been the development of an ability to conceptualize and the development of language systems employed to describe, instruct, communicate, think, build, discover, and so on. These languages fall into three categories: gesture, verbal and written language; numerical languages; and mechanical languages. In fact there is a great deal of overlap among the three language systems. Regularly we employ them to design solutions and in turn they become subsystems of the core three. 

Now, I need to step back for a moment to have a real good look at systems so I can talk about surrogates. 

Whatever else a system might be, it is a tool. We design and employ tools to do work we cannot do alone. A hammer is both a tool and a system. As a system it is comprised of a handle / shaft and a head used to hit or pry, functions we could not do with our hands alone. The original hammer was probably a stone or stick. This hammer system we have designed we have named it ‘tool’. It does a lot of work for us we either would not be able to do without it or in achieving the same result without the tool would take an enormous amount of time. 

Our modern world is full of these designed tool systems and as I pointed out above the core three are language, numerical and mechanical. Remove them from existence and we are once again foragers of the forest, wetlands and plains.

Systems are something else I alluded to in the previous paragraph. It is worth repeating the sentence. A tool system  “does a lot of work for us we either would not be able to do without it or in achieving the same result without the tool would take an enormous amount of time.” 

The historical legacy of designed systems from our ancient ancestors through into modern times has ensured our emergence from the primitive. This, all of it, I consider to be a substitute for our limited individual capabilities. 

Consider Robinson Crusoe for a moment. His survival depended upon his own ingenuity, but importantly on all the stuff he was able to rescue from the broken ship and upon what he had already learned. He was not alone in that sense as many people had contributed to the tool systems he saved and subsequently designed. The legacy he employed avoided the necessity of starting from square one. In a sense we are all Robinson Crusoe, but the complexity of our societies masks the fact.

In absence of the ability to relive and reconstitute the legacy, we depend upon the legacy as a substitute or as I prefer to call it, a surrogate. The systems employed in the past from five minutes ago to the first designed tool system have all been surrogates and going forward will continue to function on our behalf. Language, numbers and mechanical contraptions are all surrogates of one form or another. It is important to recognize these three system types are not the only surrogates. People, as designers and operators of and within the systems, are also surrogates on behalf of all those who make use of the results. People working toward some purpose and these systems are ubiquitous. 

Consider this very short list of functions performed on our behalves: help, make, teach, organize, create rules and regulations, advocate, health care, entertain, leadership, discovery, knowledge exchange, designing solutions, enabling, monitoring, research and development. In effect this means surrogates function as two types, the system as a whole and the part individuals play in them. 

It also means we are all surrogates in one way or another as we all perform one or more of these functions. This is vitally important to understand as it means we have, no matter what we do, a responsibility to do well what it is we are doing  in systems and on behalf of others and the purpose of the system. It doesn’t matter if the duty involves weeding or planning the garden layout. It doesn’t matter if the duty involves informing oneself to make a choice as in a vote or to function as the head of state as a recipient of a mass of votes. As surrogates we are responsible for doing our bit and for creating those systems functioning on our behalf.

Today our system of systems is a highly complex entwined and ubiquitous web or arrangement. Only the very simple systems in somewhat isolated circumstances can be well defined. For the most there is really no clearly definable beginning or end or limits. Consider these systems their functions and their entwined presence throughout our society:  languages, energy, food, transportation, industry, education, health care, finance, politics, media, military, building and design. Clearly we have designed systems diarrhea and as a consequence any one particular system is difficult to fully grasp because it involves automatically so many other systems. And there is no end in sight for our ability and desire to continue on creating new systems and surrogates. Indeed this is a real problem as our diarrhetic tendencies while achieving certain specific goals or outcomes, have caused and continue to cause unknown consequences. 

Much good has been achieved, but poverty, environmental degradation, cultural genocide, societal instability, and the biggy we are facing, climate change, loom darkly in our past and into the future. The specifics and degree of these issues were unknown when a designed system was begun with good intentions, but the sometimes dire consequences are very real indeed.

Unfortunately we just cannot predict all of the consequences. Our society is so complex we simply cannot know everything to be able to anticipate all consequences. Every time we make a change, and we are constantly making changes tweaking this or that or initiating full scale adjustments by designing in new systems, we are adding on or subtracting from systems. I call this the “add-on / takeoff” syndrome. 

In making these changes to our systems ripples of affect and effect result. A simple change may be fully understandable and have little impact. The resulting ripples would have been largely contained. More significant change will have wider impact. Even this can be predicted and followed. But, we do not live in a laboratory. We cannot control all variables. In the real world change ripples are ubiquitous and it is inevitable the ripples emanating from a change will collide with ripples from other changes and from the influences of ongoing systems. The more collisions the greater likelihood the consequences will not be anticipated. 

I was once asked, “What is a city?” My answer, “People.” I then went on to elaborate. People design systems and urban areas are amalgamations of systems. In the next thinking I want to begin to consider just what we have created in our urban systems and look at ways for improvement.

Greg paused for a bit looking up to observe from his vantage point a smoky tail, not a good sign as it meant the fire was not as hot as it should have been by now. Looking toward the bottom of the trench where Mellie laboured, he could see she had made great progress and was in the process of taking another load to the growing pile of wet silty muck. He watched her manoeuvre the heavy wheelbarrow over toward the pile hoping the slippery footing would not be a problem for her. His traction was certainly a bit compromised when he dumped his last load. As she approached the pile he called out.  

“Be careful, it is getting slippery over there.” 

He probably should have said nothing. Mellie looked around to acknowledge his warning and in doing so her load seemed to become unbalanced. To compensate she had to apply strength in a way demanding good footing. Her shoes covered in mud on a slippery surface had no traction. Her effort disintegrated the more she tried to correct the now inevitable premature load loss and more important her bale-out into the waiting pile of muck. 

Greg dropped his shovel and quickly made his way to the pile to find out if Mellie was hurt. 

“No,” she said, “not physically, but probably in other ways I am damaged for life.” 

Greg could not help chuckling at her predicament, held out a hand to help her up and abruptly found himself lying in the muck beside her. She had grabbed his hand with both of her’s and yanked. His footing was no more secure than Mellie’s had been and found himself prone in the sun warmed muck. 

With his free right hand he felt for and gripped a hand-full of muck and slowly proceeded to wash Mellie’s laughing face. The mud wars were on. With hoots of laughter, yells of I’ll get you for that, and screams of yes!! when a mud ball struck home they gradually began to wear a significant amount of the mucky pile. 

Then just as their energy levels were draining down the mud wars took on a whole new shape. The guests started to appear from around the side of the barn. Who knows what they thought about the scene before their eyes with two half naked mud caked apparently delirious humans chucking mud at each other. They really did not have a lot of time to take the scene in and make sense of it before Greg and Mellie communicated some private message with the only clean parts of their bodies left, their eyes. 

They hesitated only briefly and then with both hands gripping mud approached the guests and started flinging. There was no shortage of mud-munition and soon the guests started to sport splats of mud on what clothes they were wearing. Mellie and Greg were indiscriminate with their projectiles and soon a couple of the guests started flinging back. They then in concert with Mellie and Greg turned on the remainder of the guests and kept chucking until everyone was involved and most were heavily coated with muck. 

Suddenly the random flinging stopped as the group turned its collective attention to a fallen combatant. The Politician had slipped near the edge of the ditch. Closest to her and rather than helping her up, the Scientist tipped her into the ditch and began to push mud on top of the prone Politician. Everyone joined in until the Politician was covered as one might be at a beach burial. It all happened very quickly, the Politician had no chance of resisting being in an awkward position in the ditch. Greg had ensured her face was not covered, but everything else was as if she was in a mud-cake. The burial stopped, the mud was patted down to ensure a smooth finish, a camera was retrieved from a pair of clean shorts and the deed was appropriately recorded with the burial squad arranged in a semi-circle behind the Politician sporting white smiles from under muddied complexions. The squad then started to find and retrieve their clothes to leave. 

“Hey, you lot, this mud is to heavy. I can’t move.”

“I don’t think we will miss one politician,” said the Editor. 

The group continued to move away from the buried Politician until they heard her ominous reply. 

“Taxes.” 

As the Editor had encouraged prolonged teasing, he felt some responsibility in the matter and said, “Ah, you know how to grab attention, but threats will get you no where.” 

“Just as we can raise taxes we can also lower them,” explained the Politician. “Maybe we can work out a compromise.”

“What do you think squad? Is the lady for turning or not?”

“I suppose if we leave her here, we will never find out if the lady is for turning,” suggested the Librarian. “Besides if she was ever found Greg would have a lot of questions to answer and it is highly likely, if I know Greg, he would implicate us. I think she needs to be released from her mud-bonds.”

“Well then, let’s do it,” said the Editor firmly. 

He and the Scientist then knelt down beside the buried Politician, cleaned mud away from her arms and torso and helped to raise her as Greg and Mellie pulled her up. She stood with clumps of mud clinging to her body parts creating a distorted image of something alien.

“Now, you lot, back to the pond for all of you and no waltzing through the house,” directed Greg. 

After moving away from the barn the group seemed to form up into a line perpendicular to their direction of movement, the dirty dozen minus four. As they moved past the fire pit the chefs just stared and could not quite understand what they were looking at. Greg broke from formation to enquire about the fire and saw, as he approached the pit, it was going well. 

“Everything OK with you lot? We just need to get cleaned up a bit and then we will be right back for grub.” He then added, “Rugby and politics can be dirty games.” 

Greg then walked to the outdoor shower to retrieve some soap and shampoo before  continuing on to the pond, which by the time he arrived had certainly changed colour while also losing its brilliance and clarity. The scene resembled  a rocky Roman mixed bath.

Slowly, one by one, the combatants climbed out of the pond, dried off and went to find a change of clothes against the growing chill of the early evening. They were to a person ready for a hot meal and to settle down around the fire for the evening. 

“Hey Greg,” queried the Mechanic as Greg approached the patio, “do you have a guitar here? I was thinking we could do some campfire singing and a guitar would be helpful.”

“Sure, Rose’s guitar is still here and her fiddle too. Obviously they will need to be tuned, but don’t imagine a difficult task for you.”

“Ah wonderful, tuning should not be a problem as long as the tension was loosened off. Don’t imagine they have been played for a while.”

“Sure, follow me and we can have a look.” 

Mellie had heard the brief question and answer and followed them into the house. If Mellie had wandered deeper into the farmhouse on her previous visit, she would have seen the two instruments, both in cases and stored on open shelves. 

Greg lifted them down and passed the guitar to the Mechanic. He proceeded to take it out of its case and examine it for any sort of damage to make it unplayable. He was satisfied as the guitar looked to be in very good condition. 

Mellie asked if she could have a look at the fiddle. Both men glanced in her direction. Greg passed it over to her and she proceeded to repeat what the Mechanic had done and then asked Greg if she could play it. 

“Of course. Not just a mud-fighter, a fiddler too.” 

She replied, “Not a very good one though and it has been quite a while since I played.”

“I’ll leave you two to strum and fiddle about. I think the dinner is probably close to being ready so don’t be long and then you can return for more warm up before entertaining us.” 

“Yes, dad,” replied the Mechanic. 

When Greg had gone Mellie told the Mechanic she had thought of responding in the same way. 

Now, maybe it was just because they were eating outdoors around a cooking fire or maybe it was because the chefs had done a really good job in preparing the meal, a veg and sausage curried hot pot or it was the added wood smoke flavouring or all of the above, but it was very good and filling. With the beer and wine flowing chat was everywhere and Sarah could not keep up with note taking. She had been at it all day. She was exhausted and her hand was beginning to cramp. She finally could do no more, stopped and put her professional tools away. 

Plates and utensils were cleared away and quickly washed in the house. Greg threw more wood on the fire. Mellie and the Mechanic had practiced a bit more and were satisfied they could combine on some tunes for the campfire, but the number of songs would be quite limited. Really though it did not matter as everyone was slowing down. It had been a full day and with darkness closing in around the fire’s perimeter, few were participating in the songs rather most preferring  to relax and listen. 

Greg sensed it was time to explain the sleeping arrangements, did so and shortly afterward the guests readied themselves for their tents under a wonderful starry night sky. Orion as always was particularly brilliant and the Milky Way was, well, milky with its billions of stars. Greg always had difficulty comprehending the enormity, the vast number of stars and even more planets let alone the asteroids and comets. 

In a while with some already in their tents and others poised to enter, Greg said for all to hear, “Sleep well campers.” 

Mellie stayed up with Greg looking towards the heavens hoping to see a shooting star and marvelling at the cacophony of noise coming at them from all directions. He tended the fire for a while longer. They really said nothing to each other, simply lost in their own thoughts. 

Greg then said, “Given the early start tomorrow and despite the wonder of the night, I need to go to bed. You must be exhausted.”

Mellie did not answer immediately leading Greg to begin to think she was asleep. 

“I do not get to do this very often,” she said. “I have travelled across this great land, met some wonderful people and some real shits, to be blunt, seen some great places and landscapes and being here has been my best experience yet and I have been here only two and a bit days. Go figure.”

“Well, I am glad you have enjoyed yourself so far. You have come at a particularly good and busy time. After this weekend, though, the pace will slow down a bit so you can catch your breath and maybe after you have returned to your home out east it will not seem to be much different to any of your other wonderful adventures.”

“Maybe,” she reflected.

As he spoke Greg had spread the ashes and poured a little water over the coals. He had done this procedure many times and knew there would be a little residual heat in the morning, enough to help get the morning fire going. Then the coyotes started singing surprising and alarming Mellie. 

She quietly asked, “What was that? You never said the farm was haunted.” 

“Coyotes. You don’t hear them all the time as their pack seems to move about a lot, but if they are near then this is roughly the time of evening you will hear them, sometimes earlier.” 

A voice from one of the tents asked, “Should we be concerned?”

“No, they do not like people more than we do not like them. They will not bother you as long as your feet are not sticking out the tent,” Greg said.

“What a comforting thought.”

“I am off. Can’t take anymore small chat. See you all in the morning.”  

With that Greg moved off toward the house and his comfortable bed. 

Mellie thought about a mid-night swim, but decided reason in this instance was better than a fanciful excursion into bear infested rock pools. She stripped and climbed into a tent with Sally curled up at the tent doorway. As Greg reached the house he took one more look to the heavens and decided the stars could drift on their own. 

Greg was up early to get the fire going and to prepare breakfast for the campers, but really he was normally up early because this time of day was his favourite even though the night noises and sky were amazing. He preferred the nearness of nature and the early morning dew, sometimes rising off the fields as the heat was turned up. Shadow gradually dissipating as the dawn glow revealed the rolling landscape of field and mixed wood. Occasionally deer could be seen in the fields where the cows had been pastured, but more often he saw them in the hay field. Everything wakes in the dawn of a new day and it was wonderful to see it happen, to breath in deeply the fresh cool air, an elixir if there ever was one. 

“And they cannot bottle it,” he said to no one in particular.

Greg emerged from the house to see a tail of smoke rising from the fire pit and in a few more steps saw Mellie kneeling beside the flames fanning them to make sure the kindling caught. Sally enthusiastically rushed up to Greg and then returned to lie down near Mellie. 

“So, you beat me to it. Maybe I should just go back to bed?”

Mellie replied, “Maybe. Just need the food for breakfast. You and Sally could check the cows.”

“Normally I would do just that, but they can wait and four hands preparing breakfast will be better than two. Have you gone for a swim already?” Greg quizzed as he noticed her wet hair.

“Yup, don’t know how many more opportunities I’ll get, so make the most of it before moving on. More to remember.”

“Right,” said Greg. 

He almost added,  you are amazing. 

Instead, he said, “As you seem to have the fire going well, I will go back to the house for the food and then we can tickle the noses of the guests.”

Greg returned in a few minutes pushing a cart containing the food along with the tin cups and plates, reminiscent of the early utensils settlers and travellers might have used. He had already ground the coffee and now put a kettle on the rack over the fire to get it boiling. 

Mellie took the bacon and laid it out on a rack ready for it to be placed on the suspended rack. 

Greg was now busy mixing eggs up with milk to prepare scrambled eggs and Mellie had taken three heavy duty cast iron pans and placed them on the suspended rack to heat for the fries. 

It took no time to heat them and soon the fries were sizzling away. 

Greg opened some cans of beans, put them in a pan and placed it on the edge of the rack to heat, but not burn. Soon the kettle was boiling and shortly after the smell of early morning coffee was wafting across the landscape. Mellie continued to turn the fries so they would not burn as Greg cut the bread into slices, again to lay on the rack when everything else had been cooked. Now with the fries done there was room for the rack of bacon and the pot of scrambled eggs. 

As Greg did not want too much heat, he raised the suspended rack by about a foot so the heat was more gentle. By then the beans were gently bubbling, the bacon rack had been turned once and the eggs were starting to gel. Greg walked over to the triangle where towels had been hung. He removed the towels grabbed the steel bar and started the morning call to breakfast. He then poured Mellie and himself a coffee each. They clinked tin cups.

From one of the tents, “You are going to have to do something about your alarm clock. What god awful hour is it, anyway?”

“Ah, the hour is not important. It is a lovely morning and campers your breakfast awaits.” 

Mellie and Greg smiled toward each other.

Gradually rustling in the tents could be heard as the campers put something on and then emerged. After returning from one of the toilet facilities, usually a coffee was welcomed, although a couple declined opting for just water instead. Soon everyone was fed and coffee or watered and they sat around chatting and feeling the day awake in ways most had not done for a very long time, some never.

After a while Greg interrupted the chat to explain the days itinerary. 

“Well campers, hope your siesta was good and you were not too uncomfortable. This will be a relaxing day for the most part. The only task ahead of you is to identify something, anything you want to consider in detail, something on the farm, and report back to the group about it, why you wanted to look at it and what you saw. Afterward, there will be an hour or two in which you can do whatever you please. We will then return to town in the early or mid-afternoon after a snack lunch. You can then hang out at the warehouse or go your separate ways.”

“What do you mean by ‘something’?” asked the Care Giver.

“Well, really anything on the farm you may be curious about, something that piqued your interest and you would like to look at it more closely. I am not going to suggest anything in particular. It is entirely up to you what you decide to look at, get close to. Whenever you are ready, just go and in a couple of hours I will clang the triangle summoning your return.”

With the fire burning down and breakfast finished there was not much reason to build it up again. Greg and Mellie just let it finish in its own time and instead they filled the cart with all the cooking stuff, cups, plates and cutlery and took it back to the house to clean. Greg put on some Queen and they zipped through all the washing before the album was finished.

Mellie then told Greg she was going to visit the cows and look at them in detail, in particular the mother and calf. Maybe Sally would go with her she thought. Greg said she might and then to himself thought, Sally has really taken to Mellie, her Rose substitute. 

He told Mellie he would soon follow her with what he needed to tag the calf and make sure it had latched on to the mother. 

“It will take me a few minutes to round up a tag and then I’ll follow you over to them.”

He found Mellie and Sally lying in the grass watching the small herd. As he approached he could hear her humming a song he knew, but could not put a name to it. He quickly located the calf and quietly moved to her side, readied the sanitized tag and pliers, straddled the calf so it could not move and put the tag into her left ear. As he moved off the calf it struggled to rise, succeeded, moved toward the mooing mother coming toward them and immediately latched on for a good suckle. Greg was satisfied the calf was fine.

Mellie had moved close to Greg when he tagged the calf and now they both just watched as the calf and mother had calmed down and were doing what day old calves and mothers do. 

“I will leave you to watch over the herd for a while. The calf and mother look fine to me, no problems. I am going back to the house to do a few odd house cleaning things. See you in a bit.”

He then collected up his bag and returned to the house while Mellie and Sally resumed their vigil.

Greg just pottered around putting things away and cleaning a bit as the house was often neglected in that way. He did not have time to get into anything else and just wanted to have a relaxing Sunday. He put on some more music, this time Fleetwood Mac, and just enjoyed the calm.

When the album finished it was time to clang the triangle to get everyone back for their debriefings. He did not think it would take long for their findings to be told as only so much can be learned in an hour or so. He made sure all the snacks for lunch were ready and then returned to the fire pit to await the campers’ return.

It took a little while, but slowly the campers returned, some still considering what they carried. Chat ensued as they found seats or things to lean against. When everyone was seated or in some comfortable position Greg began this last little planned event. 

He said, “I hope you found something to consider and that it was an enjoyable, maybe revealing exploration, just you and what you were looking at. I see some of you brought items back which means this could turn into a show and tell session. So, if everyone has some lubrication, maybe we should just get started and see where it all goes. We are more or less in a circle, so if we start at the gap and return to it to finish everyone will have a chance to say their bit. So, Librarian, would you like to begin?”

“Sure, I had not identified anything in particular, so I just walked and tried to take in your farm, to try to understand it in some context. I walked and looked and made mental notes and this is what I have come up with. I suppose the context is historical. There are a few obvious transitions on the farm, principally where field turns into woodlot. I walked along one of these transitions and noticed in places there were stones piled in a linear fashion suggesting maybe fences or field boundaries. Obviously the stones had to come from somewhere and as I walked I noticed in the wooded areas there were a lot more stones whereas in the fields few stones were apparent. I am guessing the stones along the field edges came from what is now the fields. The wooded areas were never cleared of stones for cultivation. The wooded areas may have been logged, but subsequently were allowed to regenerate. Then I noticed the wooded areas were not all the same and some did not appear to have stones in them. It is possible I suppose the wooded areas without stones might also have been completely cleared and were at some time fields. These areas also appeared to have a younger stand of trees, so if they were fields, then at some time say in the past sixty or seventy years the fields were determined to not be worth keeping and were allowed to regenerate. That is as far as I got. The exercise did help though in understanding a bit more of the rural landscape as seeing those details strongly suggests much change over time.”

“Well done Librarian. I think your conclusion is right on as regards change even though we might disagree about some of your observations. I suggest you now have a base from which you can consider other rural landscapes. You have some reference points to work with. First Nations, you are next.”

“I decided to revisit the wetland area running parallel with the road. In my youth as we travelled through the area we had trails to follow. Those trails were marked not by different colours of tape hanging from posts or trees, but rather by use. As one walks through a landscape repeatedly along the same trails, one gradually pounds the earth till an identifiable trail appears. Look at a pasture and you will see where cows walk by the trails they create. It is the same for people and in a wet area the impact will be greater. I wanted to see if I could find, identify, the old trails we used so many years ago. I was partly successful, but unfortunately there has been disturbance of the wetland for road building and cuttings across it. These disturbances have masked or hidden much of the trail system of my youth. It was really interesting to revisit what I could find. Definitely brought back memories, but it also suggests our impacts on the landscape are maybe not as ephemeral as we might think.”

“Oh, this is good. I hope the memories were worth being dredged up.”

“Of course.”

“OK, Scientist, you are next.”

“Well, when we arrived and frequently since I have seen your woodpile. That is a lot of work cutting and chopping all that wood. I know we measure wood volume in cords, but I was curious to know just how many pieces of wood you had processed. So, I counted some of your pile and then made a couple of assumptions and added it all up. My guesstimate is approximately 3000 pieces.”

“No wonder I feel tired after chopping. I am not sure how good your number is and I am not sure I wanted to know, but there you go. You are next Sporty Person.”

“It has been the water in the pond I was curious about. I wanted to know where it entered the pond and then try to figure out where it exited. So I floated some small sticks to see what would happen. The source is obvious, clearly defined as the water spills over rocks into the pool area. I floated some sticks and they tended to move away from the source. I just let them go and soon they were all congregating in the Southwest corner. Of course I had to see or try to feel any water movement and so I had to go for a swim. I could not detect anything so got out and went for a walk away from that corner to see if there was any evidence of water flow possibly originating from the pond. Just did not have enough time to do any more exploring, so no definitive answer.”

“Thanks for trying. I knew where the water entered, but not the exit location. Later I will do a bit more exploration to see if I can further your findings. Now Mechanic, what did you get up to?”

“You have what I thought to be a very old maple tree. I wanted to see if I could, guesstimate, a very good word, its age. As I understand tree age can be determined by taking a core sample and simply counting the ring marks. As I did not have anything to take a core with I had to use a different method involving a lot of guess work. I needed to determine the radius length. Playing around with sticks and my little tape measure, I concluded the radius from the centre was not quite 600 mm, something more around 550 mm. Now a millimetre is quite small and I figured on average a ring could be represented by two millimetres. Doing the math one is left with an estimate of 275 years old and that means the tree started growing around 1750 give or take. Too bad we cannot time travel through a tree.”

“Ah, but we can in some ways. For example the rings are not uniform and the width can say a lot about the weather of a particular year or decade. I suspect scientists are also able to analyze ring chemistry and that could tell us something about what happened near the tree during its lifespan. Not quite what you meant by time travel, but maybe a small window onto the past. Minister, you are next.”

“Some of you may know I am a kind of tree nut, so to speak. Over the years I have tried to become familiar with trees and how to recognize them. I was curious to know what kind of variety of trees are on this property, so I did a little inventory. Quite interesting really as the mix is extensive and I am sure when the fruiting bush trees are added the mix would be that much greater. So, this land does not just support a climax woodlot. As the Librarian pointed out there are a variety of habitat arrangements with fields bordering woodlots and wetlands scattered around. Each landscape type encourages different trees. I have been in lots of woodlots on different landscapes, but here the variety is so rich due to the various land formations and presence of water. I can run through what I found later if anyone is interested. Probably not worth reciting a list just now. It is sufficient to know this patch of land is very special for its variety.”

“When Rose was searching for a farm property to purchase, what you have determined was one of the main attractions for her. I have come to learn more of what she knew at the time and yes, this property sports a very rich mix of both flora and fauna. Now your turn Editor. What did you consider?”

“I wanted to gain some sense of the intensity of agricultural activity on this land. After some of the previous comments, I have to change what I was going to say which was I thought the intensity level was very low. Small fields, no commodity cropping, only a double handful of grazing meat cows and a smallish garden. I did not consider trees in my equation and I certainly did not take into account the variety of important landscape types. I know the issues and problems with commodity cropping have been growing. In my job I can read about it every day. Those issues and problems cascade, that is they have tremendous knock on effects for the land and the communities in which the activities exist. While the intensity of agriculture is low and no doubt it could be increased, there are limits beyond which impacts upon the natural supporting landscape ultimately leads to a degradation of the landscape and variety of the flora and fauna Greg mentioned. In short, we should not be thinking in terms of a “you are with us or against us” attitude, rather it seems to be essentially important to ensure mixed rural land use taking into account as a priority the types of land we are dealing with. Big technology should not be allowed to bulldoze its way into the future. Maybe Greg has found a happy balance.”

“Mmmm, not sure how to respond, so I will say nothing and just leave your comments alone. Politician, you are next.”

“I am involved in discussions about food security, an issue of growing importance. In a similar way to you Editor, I wanted to look at your garden and the beef cattle you raise to see if and how the yield could be increased to support food security in our community. I concluded there was space to expand into and then wondered what was stopping you from doing so. The first and most obvious problem, as I see it, is labour. Our rural communities have been decimated in favour of an urban orientation. That is, our young people have been encouraged, for a very long time now, to enter into the urban job market. At the same time technologies have lessened the need for human labour in the countryside. The machine has taken over. Both loss of labour and improved technology has occurred simultaneously. As I considered your farm and the scale at which you operate, I realized labour was the missing link and then tried to anticipate where such labour could be found and at what cost. Both, it seems to me, are going to be a drag on scaling up. I then started to consider what government could do would have to do to change the circumstances to be more favourable for upping agricultural intensity on small scale farms to ensure food security for all. Then the triangle sounded.”

“This is maybe a good time to respond to both the Editor and the Politician. You are both correct to say intensity could be increased. And your comments Politician are right on when you say the absence of labour and the costs to import it make it difficult to up the scale of production. I cannot go too far with my comments because nothing is for certain. I do have plans to increase production here, but it will depend upon other activities getting off the ground. It is a matter of thinking outside the box and unfortunately nothing happens with a snap of the fingers. So, yes food security is high in my mind too and some of the projects I have worked on over the past decade are now taking shape. I suppose the best thing to say is watch this channel over the next couple of years. Nurse, you are next.”

“I am involved with health and rehabilitation issues among my other nursing activities. In this area there is a shortage of rehabilitation services let along facilities where such rehab can occur. Quite simply in my mind I went through an exercise of design, I guess you could call it, to see how this farm might be altered to accommodate rehab programmes and clients. During the wars of the previous century large homes and estates were seconded as rehab facilities. I think we need to revisit some of those ideas. So, here the house for a start could be converted to accommodate a very limited number of people and then gradually it could be expanded always for short-term convalescence or rehab. I think it could work. Also, in response to the Politician, a rehab facility might be able to provide some farm labour. Just a thought.”

“Not something I have ever thought about. I’ll have to consider your suggestion. Now, Care Giver, you did not seem to go very far. I hope clanging the triangle was not too loud for you.”

“It was a bit abrupt. Interesting concept from the nurse and I suppose my thinking was along a similar path, but it was more of a practical personal study if you like. I remained near the fire pit to meditate and enjoy the quiet. Simply I tried to empty my head, to forget about the issues I will have to deal with again starting tomorrow. I wanted to re-energize myself and I thought here is an opportunity to borrow an hour from life and maybe go back to work with a clearer perspective and a more positive attitude. I’ll let you know if it worked.”

“All of this is just so wonderful. Thank you for taking it seriously. Now, dad, what did you consider?”

“As you all know by now I have been living on the street for many years. What you may not know is I have been advocating for street people and supporting them in whatever way I could from lobbying on their behalf to cooking meals for them. I looked at the garden and thought what a wonderful way to increase my support for them by getting them involved in food production. I really did not take my thinking beyond that, but join with you Politician in wanting to do something about food security. We cannot live without food.”

“Well said. Now Farmer what got you thinking?”

“I noticed earlier there is an area of young trees and from a distance I could not really determine if the area had been planted or if it was natural regeneration and then I also wondered why and why there. I had a closer look and realized the area had probably been used as pasture at some time in the past thirty years or so. It was also obvious the trees were regenerating, that they had not been planted. It is a curious land formation of rolling ridges and swales. The swales tend to be wet or actually have very small streams running in them and the ridges are quite dry. The tree growth is happening half way between the dry and wet, the best location for birch, poplar and tamarack to get started. Other sorts of trees are now appearing. Still the why question was not answered, so I will take a guess and suggest the area was retired as pasture to prevent animals from fouling the wet areas which no doubt connect into larger water courses.”

“Well done. Yes, the concern was downstream really. Keep the animals out of the water courses and stream, creek and lakes downstream will not be subject to increased nutrient levels. Now the land supports a naturally regenerating mixed wood instead of cattle. Mellie, do you want to say anything?”

“I was curious about cow communication, so I went out to the field and sat with them for an hour to see what I could see. I took Sally with me and she sat beside me among the cows. You came and tagged the new born calf. One hour is not enough time and I suppose years of observation would be required to understand what was happening. They visited with us for a time and then went back to grazing. One of the cows seemed to be leading, the others following. No moos were spoken. It would be interesting to have an opportunity to watch a small herd for a while to get a sense of what kinds of messaging was going on.”

“Most people think cows are dumb, just grazing. Well, as with any animal, they need to survive. Cows are herd animals and to function in a group they need to be able to communicate, sometimes with sound and other times with body language. Definitely though communication is occurring. Sarah, you are last. Any thoughts?”

“Everyone knows I have been asking questions and making notes. For me this weekend has been extremely interesting and exhausting. I am not sure where it will lead yet. There seems to be a grain of an idea forming, but it has not revealed itself quite yet. Don’t be surprised though if at some time in the near future you have a knock at your door and when you open up I will be standing there with a big smile and a bunch more questions. I simply strolled and maybe like the Care Giver tried to relax my head.”

“OK, we are done,” Greg said. “Thank you for coming to my little weekend quiz. Hope you have enjoyed it. We can have a snacky lunch just now and in a couple of hours will return to town. If you want swims, go for it. If just to relax, please do. I will give a clang or two when the bus is ready to go. So, just now enjoy your lunch and any chat you choose to be part of.”

The end of two hours rolled around very quickly it seemed to everyone. True to his word Greg clanged  the triangle to get their attention.  

“Time to get your things together. I will order some Asian take-out we can pick up on the way back to the warehouse and your carriage will be ready to go in fifteen minutes.” 

Accordingly everyone was then involved in a bit of a scramble to retrieve possessions and be ready for the bus. Mellie had the added responsibility, she felt, to put as much of the dishes, towels, chairs and so on into the house and away from weather and little unwanted critters. Others helped and soon everything was at least indoors and could be dealt with the next time she and Greg were at the farm.

As a group there was some observable excitement and buzz as you might see with school children getting ready to go on a field trip to some highly anticipated expectation. Greg was true to his word and soon the horn sounded as the bus idled at the front of the house ready for everyone to embark. Mellie was last to climb on board and as she did the low din of chatter met her as the doors closed. They were off reversing their earlier journey along the leafy drive and rural road, only this time being able to observe what they had previously missed on the trip to the farm. The chatter continued all the way into town. 

Greg, the Sporty Person and Mellie collected the take-out and brought it onto the bus along with the waft of food odours which quickly permeated the bus from front to back.

At the warehouse Greg lead the exit, opened the door and invited everyone back into his apartment where the food was spread out on the big old oak trestle table. With everyone tucking into the food suddenly there was a hush more noticeable because of the animated chatter heard over the past hour-and-half. It was as if there had been a collective sigh giving way to an earnest attempt to quench thirst and satisfy appetite. 

The Mechanic felt suitably stuffed and then as was his habit for relaxation he drifted to the piano and began a very quiet medley of music. He simply drifted along not knowing where it would lead, but knowing each piece had a segue to be revealed as he came to a transition. He just meandered in music and soon Mellie joined with him offering her quiet vocals. The guests were bathed in this musical warmth some with eyes closed others engaged in quiet reflection about the past forty-eight hours. For many they seemed to feel they had come in a way full circle, had gained from the experience and chat  and were back at the warehouse but in a different state of awareness.

The Editor was the first to approach Greg to say he had to go. Inevitably his mind had started to drift toward his commitment to publish a paper and felt by leaving now he might salvage some energy for the next couple of days. Although he knew his staff at the paper were more than competent and could put a paper out without his stamp of approval, he felt compelled, his editor’s journalistic responsibility, to be involved.

Sarah was also exhausted. She had been quietly acting as the scribe, noting down what the guests had been casually saying along with answers to her questions as she attempted to dig a little deeper into thoughts the guests had on topics related to the topics raised over the past two days. She wanted to relax in the quiet of her apartment for the rest of the day and evening and took the Editor’s lead as a good opportunity to follow. 

With phrases of departure warmly stated the two left the apartment soon to be followed by the rest of the guests until only the Mechanic remained. The gig was over, even the bar tender, the Sporty Person, had gone and now the music was his and Mellie’s alone as Greg had also briefly disappeared to return the bus and pick up his cart.

By the time Greg returned the music was over. There was no more fuel in their tanks. They had been quietly chatting about what was next. The Mechanic had told Mellie his band had a concert commitment for the following weekend and asked if she would come along to sing. Without much hesitation she agreed and told Greg about the offer when the Mechanic had finally departed. He was thrilled for her and promised to go along to catch the show. 

“Beyond that, however, let’s leave our chat about my plans and the rest of your stay until the morning. I am quite tired as I think you are and we both could do with a good sleep for what is left of this night.” 

With that Greg turned out most of the lights, bid Mellie a good sleep and left her sitting in a big chair with legs drawn up and a blanket wrapped around her. She was ecstatic and distraught all at once. The impending music date was wonderful. The thought of sleeping alone was not. The thought of her time with Greg coming to an end in such a short time was far worse. Mellie was definitely in an unsettled frame of mind.

She had questions devoid of answers. Her mental state was scattered and she could not focus on anything for more than a few minutes before something else weaselled its way into her thoughts. The music opportunity was great and making music with the Mechanic had been special, one of the best music sessions she had ever participated in. Just what a real gig would be like she did not know, but if he was willing to have her sing with the band he must have thought she could do it. But what if she screwed up and what music would they play and did she know it well enough, whatever it would be and she wanted the Mechanic to bring the lyrics over so she could see them and a practice session would be even better. He never mentioned practice. And what did Greg mean about his plans and why did he remind her, her time with him was coming to an end almost before it had begun? Then again Greg had not set a two week period, it was her suggestion, but only because she did not want to appear pushy and have him say No. So ask in the morning if she could stay longer, but then he might say no and then it would be final and maybe he would just get around to asking her to stay longer anyway and then she could pause and consider and then agree to make it seem she was doing him a favour. 

She really wanted to talk with someone about what she should do and wondered if Sarah would be open to chatting, but then figured Sarah had lots of work commitments and probably would not have the time and dammit why did my parents have to get themselves killed. Maybe I could get a few minutes with the Minister or maybe just talk it all through with Sally and where are my friends back home when you need them and really there are no friends back home and really back home is not home anyway and why did I say that was where I was going when I don’t know where I am going. She woke some time later needing the toilet and then as in a dream drifted unconsciously to her borrowed bedroom and bed.

Chapter 9

With a few hours of deep sleep, Greg was rested enough and eager to sit at his desk, let his mind wander and to record his thoughts. As was common for him, he returned to thoughts urban. Clutching a hot mug of coffee, like Alice, he ventured down the rabbit hole into his world of urban contemplations.

Urban systems are highly complex and multi-dimensional or maybe a better description is to say they are heavily layered and at the same time highly networked. Urban ecology is an appropriate descriptive term. However one tries to portray urban areas in words or pictures, the attempt will be incomplete. There is far more in urbanity and in the variety of urbanity than we could ever completely describe. Fortunately, such descriptions are not necessary. 

I pointed out in another thinking humanity is creative, we design solutions and most often these solutions are system designs or decision designs fitting into existing systems. Collectively urbanity is a manifestation of design solutions and as such are creations of our minds. In actual fact they are comprised of different dimensions which can be described in many useful ways. Geometrically they have depth, breadth and height are adjusted over time and both house culture and are formed and informed by culture. Analytically, they are comprised of links, nodes, structure, contain collective action and change over time. They are constantly changing high density physical and cultural enclaves. They are collectively systems of systems and were inevitable constructs of and occupied by humanity. 

The broad range of urban settlement formats were bound to happen. As humanity around the world transitioned from nomadic to sedentary, as our abilities to communicate, provide for ourselves and others and design was honed to a sharp edge more permanent settlement was inevitable each generation and culture learning from the legacies of their ancestors how to make urban areas work and how to survive in the milieu.

That is a very general and skeletal depiction. Now I want to fill in some of the obvious gaps, but first need to answer the questions: Why did humanity create urban settlement in the first place? What was the purpose and what advantages were expected? I believe the answers and the enormous number of examples of settlement creation indicate and illustrate humanity’s proclivity to gather for mutual benefit. First and foremost this benefit centred on food and personal / familial security. Down through the ages this effort to guarantee security has remained upper most in our minds although the systems and methods employed today are very different in type and scale. Protection and sustenance, that is what it is all about. 

I would only add as a subtext, humanity’s gregarious nature. We enjoy, indeed we thrive on social / cultural contact and context. It is the frame of reference for all that we do and over the generations we have learned to do a lot. Commerce, governance, education, science and mathematics, technological development, festivals and entertainment, work opportunities, health care, contemplation and religion, in short an exchange of ideas representing a huge accomplishment for humanity and all of it rests on the shoulders of the desire for security, discovery, learning, social and cultural initiatives, wealth creation and access to it.

While many of the reasons for the creation of urban areas are common throughout the world, there seems to be an infinite variation in the design themes employed. No two urban settlements are identical and from my point of view that is a good thing, how boring if it was all the same. 

Our urban areas consist of structure and fabric including technologies on the move, the spaces in between and of course the people milling about in their many and various unique milieus. 

Now as with all design, some is better than others whatever the purposes and it is also true of urban settlement. A number of  influences and choices have combined over the ages to make our settlement patterns  unique as we see them and live in them today. So, let me explain some of these influences and choices. The ones I deal with here are important but, by no means do they represent all. 

VABs and MEKs of the designers, decision-makers and users down the years are crucially important. Security and the basic needs of life, in particular water, food, shelter and fuel, heavily influenced the location and shape of settlement. The designers and builders had to deal with environmental issues, but whatever shape their designs  took the end result was an imposition on the environment. 

Some settlement development was quite organic following the contours of the landscape while at the other extreme a selected pattern arrangement was  imposed on the landscape. Movement and transportation has always been a significant design component to satisfy the requirements of military, commerce and the dominant social / cultural systems. So too the need for gathering places for entertainment, exchange and repose, has punctuated townscape. The availability in the different periods and locations of technology, methodology for design, very important enabling tools, had great influence on siting, shape, structure and scale.  Finally, my short list concludes with wealth and governance, two influences affecting what was possible. For each of these influences I have only scratched the surface of their impacts and each as a variable in combination with all the influences resulted in significant complexity even in the smallest and earliest of settlements.

Suddenly, penetrating his thoughts, he began to smell bacon cooking. He glanced at the clock time on his screen and realized he had spent a wee bit too much time thinking and recording. There were chores to do especially if the next couple days were to be occupied with a visit to the urban community project he had helped initiate. He needed to catch up on what was happening with it and to see how his students were faring. He stood, stretched, touched his toes, flung his arms about to get the blood circulating again and ventured forth to see what Mellie had conjured up in the kitchen. 

“Too bad she is moving on,” he mumbled, a habit of talking to himself started in his youth. “Good mud fight.”

As he moved toward the kitchen through the chaos of the weekend he saw Mellie at the stove preparing something smelling very inviting. 

“Good morning, hope you slept well.” Greg said.

“OK, not great, eventually my lights went out. Sunshine brought me back to life and thought I would have a stab at your kitchen seeing you had not yet emerged.”

“Have you been able to find everything required?”

“Oh, yes, you are well stocked up I will say.”

“Well, people come to stay periodically and I hate having to run off to get something I should have had all along. So, I try to stock up on the non-perishables, dry or frozen and just get the rest when needed. Less time spent shopping. Bulk buying. So, what have you conjured up for us? Smells delicious.”

“Bacon, eggs, fruit, toast, coffee. Will that satisfy your hunger pangs?”

“I believe so and it will be good to taste someone else’s cooking. One gets tired of falling into a rut of same old same old. Nice to be yanked out of the box. Outside or inside?”

“Outside. We are all set to go. Just need to grab your grub and take a pew in this lovely never ending wonderful weather in the morning sun and then I am curious about your plans for the next few days.”

“Uh huh, yup, we need to talk about it to figure out who does what and when. You know, without being too forward I have never known a woman with so many interesting T-shirts as you seem to possess. Each one has a story behind it, I am sure.”

“Most, some were just whimsical acquisitions. This one came from Saskatoon. It just seemed to fit with my mood at the time.”

“OK, into the sun,” Greg said.  

With plates and cups in hand Greg lead them through the tunnel onto the patio. There the corner of the table was set for two. As they were sitting down a familiar voice greeted them inquiring about their tardy start to the day. Greg’s contractor approached their table with a big smile and questioning look. 

“Well, my day started at five this morning, how about yours?” enquired Greg.

“Not quite so early. I have good news though and just wanted to say I can see the end of the tunnel on this job. A couple more weeks and should be completely finished all the loose ends tied up.”

“Oh, good. You are going to be a little earlier than I expected. I will have to bump up my plans somewhat and get staff in place. Do you want a coffee?”

“No, just wanted to update you. Maybe later on a quick peek at our efforts to see if there is anything more required.”

“I will stick my nose in after we consume this breakfast feast.”

As the contractor retraced his steps, Mellie asked, “What has he been doing for you?”

“He has taken a portion of this old warehouse building and turned it into a brew-pub restaurant facility. He has done a good job and now I need to figure out who is going to run it.”

“Can I have a look?” asked Mellie.

“Sure, do you have any experience with hospitality and food preparation?”

“Only as summer jobs and they were really only ways of earning a bit for university and frankly did not enjoy them that much. That was then.”

“Well, we can go have a look and I will be interested to hear what you think. Always good to get another viewpoint.”

“Did you and Rose start the project?”

“No, we talked about doing it, but I never got going until last winter. That part of the warehouse always seemed to suggest a separate use and did not have a clear concept in mind until I considered overhead costs and noticed a bit of roof deterioration. It was then time to do something about it. So, having a look there is our first stop. Then we have to clean up here and hopefully by mid-day we can be out at the farm to do more clean up and garden work. Tomorrow, I have to visit an ongoing project started a few years ago. You can come along if you want, or concentrate on farm chores, your choice.”

“What is the project and where would I be most useful?”

“The project is difficult to describe. It is called “Feed the Block”. You really need to see it to get a fuller understanding for what has been created. As for being most useful, if we put in a full day now then I think my preference, on second thought, would be for you to come along to the project and then I am not wondering if you are safe at the farm. Don’t want you to put a fork through your foot with no one nearby to help get it out.”

“OK, sounds good to me. Shall we go and have a look at your pub?”

“Sure, lets clear this away and then go round to see what has been created.” 

As they made their way back into the kitchen both Greg and Mellie noticed Greg’s dad coming into the apartment, not alone though, as a middle-aged woman and a young man accompanied him.

“Well, your timing may be impeccable,” Greg commented. “Good morning, have you eaten?”

“Yes, good morning and no we have not,” Greg’s dad replied.

“Well, you know where everything is located so help yourself and who are your friends?” asked Greg.

“Street buddies I thought needed a break from street fare. Julie and Mike meet my son Greg.”

Hi’s and welcomes and introduction to Mellie ensued. Then Greg briefly outlined his plans for the day and invited his dad to have a look at the pub when they had finished getting some food. 

“I would really like to know what you think and most important whether you think you would want to be a part of the operation of such an establishment.” 

“Oh, I don’t know. First things first I guess. Just now I want to feed these two people as  it has been quite some time since they had a sit down meal on a real chair. Then, I will look at your pub and let you know. Do you want any help with these cots?” Frank asked waving his arm at the sleeping arrangements of two nights previous.

“If you are done eating when Mellie and I return, then yes we would welcome a hand. It all has to go down the stairs and into the garage for pick up. Just now we have to get on as Mellie wants to see the pub and then we have a full day of chores at the farm. Enjoy your meal and we’ll be back in a bit.”

Greg started to move toward the patio again as Mellie said she would be right back and then hurried toward the far end of the apartment, her bedroom and a change into more appropriate street clothes. She joined him in a few minutes on the patio. 

“I am ready to go see and I am quite curious to see what it is you have been trying to create.”

“Right then, let the tour begin,” announced Greg.

They crossed the patio, turned past the corner of the back of the part of the warehouse the contractor had been beavering away at changing to approach what was the entry. 

Mellie had not looked along this wall of the warehouse before and she had no idea what to expect. What she saw was immediately intriguing. 

The outer shell of the warehouse had been constructed in dark brick or maybe the brick had darkened with time. Into or onto this canvass had been inserted, she was sure, a new set of very heavy looking vertically panelled wooden double doors studded with black bolt ends, with huge black hammered hinges and door pulls as if they had been transported from an earlier time and a quite foreign place. 

The doors and their hardware by themselves were an attraction, but above the doors hung something even more arresting. There, as an icon of identity, hanging from a black wrought iron bracket was, yes it certainly looked like it, a chandelier, a gorgeous cascading brass chandelier. 

As they approached the doors Mellie became aware of the apron area with sets forming the floor and more architectural iron work scattered around, including at the centre a small fountain of a similar shape to the chandelier hung over the doors. 

Taking it all in Mellie had a really warm feeling arise through her about the space and her first overall impression. She was captivated and felt as though she wanted to just run through the doors to look inside so she could connect all the dots. 

“Before we go in, what do you think about my entry design? Does it grab you and not let go or do you find it cold and hard and repellent?” asked Greg with a bit of an uncertain feeling in his stomach.

“Honestly, I am intrigued and want to see more, although If this was all there was I would be quite happy to lounge here for a while. I like the iron work, but I really like the chandelier. It seems to have just the right amount of glitz for its surroundings. One might almost call it a subtle influence and yet has at the same time a striking presence in contrast.”

“Ah, I spent many a wake less hour over the design. From what you say it sounds like you might have been a useful contributor,” he said.

“I don’t know if collaborative design is necessarily the best way to go and you seem to have done OK with this effort not to even mention your apartment,” Mellie responded.

“Right then, lets go inside and see what you make of it. Obviously it is still a bit rough as the contractor has not finished, but I think from what you have said you will be able to see past the dust and tools.”

“I’m all eyes. Do we need hard hats?” she asked.

“No, I think the heavy lifting is over. Just don’t walk under ladders. This way, mademoiselle.” 

Mellie entered into a designed world where glitz and factory collided. 

No, she realized, there was no collision. The two very different designs meshed. How she was not sure, but it all worked. 

As her eyes adjusted to the lower light levels three elements dominated, the skeletal structure of the building and its services, the many chandeliers scattered throughout and the large scale artwork displayed on an assortment of wall coverings from brick to panels to painted. 

Slowly she also became aware of a fourth element consisting of different levels and rooms. 

Although not yet fully distributed, she also recognized a unique table and chair design combining stainless steel legs and chunky wooden table tops. 

Finally, in a couple of locations there were shafts of light penetrating the otherwise dark interior, the play of light providing a shifting contrast and a temporal connection to the day. 

Mellie, like a cow going into a new field, cautiously explored and then with great excitement rushed around trying to take it all in at once, then slowed to inspect and absorb in more detail. 

“Well, what do you think?” Greg asked tentatively after a while, after she had explored for a bit. 

“I don’t know what to say. I don’t really have words yet to describe what I am seeing or feeling. You will have to ask me again some other time, after I have had some time to reflect.”

“OK, but gut feeling is positive, negative?”

“Oh, definitely positive,” she said.

“Good, that is reassuring. I will let you ruminate on it and if you feel inclined to say more later, great. For now I think we need to get back to the apartment and start tackling our chores. So, if you will follow me we can take a bit of a short-cut.” 

Mellie followed and after a few turns and hallways finally passing through a doorway, they were back in Greg’s apartment at the opposite end to where Mellie slept, near to Greg’s office and bedroom.

As they approached the kitchen it was clear breakfast was over for Greg’s dad and his two guests. They were sitting, relaxed sipping coffee and chatting comfortably. 

Julie stood as Greg and Mellie approached saying, “Thank you so much for your hospitality and allowing us to enjoy your space and food. I am very very grateful. Thank you.”

“Ah, you are most welcome. I hope dad filled you up.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Good and now we have a little work to do getting these cots and mattresses down the stairs. Mellie and I have to go off after that, but before we go I want a quick word with you dad and then we will leave you three to get on with your day.”

With five pairs of hands it seemed to take no time at all and the cots were stacked in the garage ready to be picked up later in the day. Greg then took his dad into his office and closed the door. Mellie was left with Mike and Julie. 

Julie asked, “So, what is your connection with Greg?”

“Good question. I am asking myself the same thing. I arrived four or five days ago into a whirlwind of activity and thinking. Not sure my feet have touched ground yet, so I guess in reality I have a passing connection.”

“Oh, I thought there was more to it than that. You and Greg seemed to be quite familiar and comfortable with each other, but I did not know the degree. Just curious I guess.”

“And your connection with Greg’s dad?” Mellie asked.

“Well, Mike and I have been on the street for years and Greg’s dad has been our one constant friend. He has always been there when we have needed help, support, a laugh, a meal. It would have been a very different experience out there without him.”

Mellie accepted Julie’s explanation, but reluctantly. She did not want to pry on a subject she was not invited to question. Her initial sense, however, suggested there was more to their relationship. When together, facial similarities, especially around the eyes and eyebrows, were striking. 

Greg and his dad then returned. 

Greg glancing at Mellie said, “Ok, time to get on with chores and other delights. I will leave you two in dad’s hands and I hope you have an interesting next few hours. Dad can explain everything to you. So, come on Mellie get yourself in gear, get any stuff you need to take and I will see you at the pickup.” 

With that Greg turned and with a little wave he made his way over to the door and stairs leading to the garage. Mellie was close behind ready to go.

Once settled in the pickup and on route, Mellie asked, “Who are Julie and Mike. We did not have much time for question and answer before you and your dad came back and here we are going to the farm. I am curious. Do you know anything about them?”

“Well, on one hand it is a bit complicated and on the other it is quite straight forward. The straight forward short version, Julie was kicked out of a marriage because she did not want to give up on her autistic son, Mike, who did not fit with her husband’s view of the world and his warped sense of what he wanted and his self image. All kinds of stuff going on there and he just did not want to devote time to a child with mental problems. So, they were basically kicked out, had no resources to fight it and have been on the street since. As far as I can make out, dad has given them support in ways they know about and in other ways they do not have a clue about. He’s been their guardian angel if you like. But, it has been a struggle for them and I think dad has recognized they need a more stable life and that is where “The Chandelier” might work for them.”

“What do you mean, if I may ask?”

“Of course you can ask. I have proposed to dad, he take on the overall management of The Chandelier. I will be taking on someone to do the brew side, but dad would have overall management control including who gets hired for what. I am a designer not a manager, whereas dad is in many ways the opposite. I have also been thinking for a few years now he needed to come in from the street. I have suggested he can do more to help street people from the inside than from the outside. He has given it some consideration and is willing to seriously think about it.”

“I may be jumping ahead and may be looking up the wrong tree, but are you proposing he staff your pub/restaurant with street people?” she asked.

“Precisely.”

“Not risky?”

“I don’t think so. Dad has survived on the street now for a good few years and Julie longer. Between the two there is a wealth of knowledge about how to deal with people and in a strange way how to get the most out of them including recognizing their talents. Sure some have real problems and they may not be suitable for the kind of work required in a pub/restaurant. But, there are others who will flourish in a supportive environment. It will be dad’s call.”

“When do you plan to open?”

“That will be up to him, but I am thinking a couple of months after the contractor has moved on. Now, on another subject entirely, we have some work to do at the farm before returning to the apartment. This is what we need to accomplish and it does not include mud-fights, at least for the moment.” 

Greg then outlined the things needing to be done over the next five or six hours and gave Mellie an opportunity to select how she wanted to contribute. By the time they drove up the farm drive their agendas were set.

Greg parked the pickup, got out and said, “See you in a bit. You know where the food is if you get peckish. Have fun.” and he was off to the woodpile. 

For her part Mellie took stock of where she was and then turned in the direction of where she thought the cattle may be grazing. She had to move them into another field never having done it before, but willing to try what Greg had suggested, basically opening the gate and calling them. On her way to find them she also had to check and make sure the nose pump was in good working order. 

Greg had said it would be obvious how it worked and she just needed to try it, pump a few times and water should appear. If there was no water he needed to know immediately. She found the pump, looked at it for a few minutes trying to divine inspiration as to its function, remembered Greg had said just push the ‘nosedle’ say a few magic words and it should work. She tried and it did and that was that, first job done. 

The cattle were even easier. She did not have to look for them as they were already massed at the gate. She swung the gate open, they trundled through and once in the new field kicked up their heels in excitement over having new grass to munch. They were all settled in a matter of minutes and Mellie after watching them for a few minutes more, feeling very restive in their calmness, turned toward the farmhouse and with a sigh started back to clean up after the weekend. 

She knew she could clean up while chopping wood was simply out of her league. Actually, while she chose to do these tasks she now realized there was not much choice involved. 

“He may not like management tasks, but he knows how to do it,” she mumbled to herself. 

Upon arriving at the house she did a quick survey of the mess left from the weekend. She figured this task of restoring order to apparent chaos was going to take most of the rest of the afternoon. Then her mind wandered back to the likeness she seemed to have recognized between Frank and Julie and of course Mike. Then a question dawned on her. 

“Does Greg actually know all the details?” she asked Sally.

Sarah was  back in her apartment and feeling, probably looking, somewhat numb. 

“What a week,” she said as she scanned around her small apartment. 

Things she had never done and thoughts and ideas she had never had or been exposed to had found their way into the copious amount of notes she had recorded. Her wrist was sore, her shoulders ached, Oh for a massage, she thought. 

Her eyes were  bleary and her mind seemed to be in neutral. For a time she simply sat on the platform at the top of the stairs to her apartment in the warmth of the morning sun. From this vantage point she could scan across the somewhat untidy backs of neighbouring buildings and properties. Birds and squirrels were active, but no human life. In the distance she heard a dog barking and of course there was always the wax and wane of traffic noise. A little flutter of air through the trees and leaves also brushed past her cheeks. She could smell bread, coffee and bacon, so her senses had not shut down, but she did not know what to do about it if anything. A little memory of a childhood moment popped into her head causing a subtle little lip up-curl. Where had that come from, an image of skipping and singing on a dock at the edge of a lake, no one around, no clothes on at age of about ten, with the sun beating down? 

Suddenly, something was moving on her leg at the top of her thigh. She started to brush it away and couldn’t and then realized it was her phone. She dug into her pocket, pulled out the intruder and cringed to see her Editor was calling. Not what she wanted just now. Just let me sit her a bit longer, but then given the circumstances she realized answering was her only real option. 

“Hi.”

“You OK?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Yes, I guess,” she replied.

“I was worried about the way you left. You seemed to be somewhere between alive and not so alive. I just wanted to be sure you had not fallen under a bus or something and you were safe. You don’t have to answer, just take it easy this morning, relax, let your faculties come back to life and towards the mid-afternoon come in and we can go from there.”

Sarah really did not know what to say.  

She managed a simple “OK.”

“Good, see you then.”

She turned off her phone. No more calls. She wanted a shower. She wanted a new pair of shoulders. 

The Mechanic had needed to check in on the guys in his garage to make sure all was going along as it should. He then excused himself and made his way back to Greg’s apartment in the hope Mellie would be there. According to Greg’s dad he just missed them as they were off to the farm and farm chores. He was disappointed for sure, but did not want to come back later and miss them again so he just left the package he had put together for Mellie. It was self-explanatory and on the note he had expressed his hope she would follow through with their arrangement, she sing with his band. He let her know the band members were happy to have her participate and she should try to make their practice session on Wednesday. He left to go back to the day job, but was already anticipating having her along to provide a musical element the band had struggled, so far unsuccessfully, to create. He must invite the weekend guests to the gig.

Sarah emerged from the shower, but did not wrap her hair in a towel as she normally would do. She wanted it to hang down onto her bare shoulders. Although the shower had helped to get them to relax a bit, she could still feel a tightness and thought her cascade of hair might provide a cooling effect. She made coffee, toyed with some toast and an egg, threw some clothes into the washing machine, but did not turn it on. She re-arranged some of the apartment clutter, almost got the vacuum going, but thought better of it, that was to do nothing concrete. She prevaricated all the while circling and never touching the pile of notes from the weekend. 

She saw them, couldn’t help but see them, but was neither ready to touch them or to begin to explore them. They were like a bonfire in the middle of her apartment. She could smell them, feel their heat, perceived a shimmering dance emanating from their content, but could not touch them for fear of burning her fingers. Let sleeping dogs lie she thought and tried to occupy herself with other things at a distance from the pyre.

Gradually she ran out of little meaningful tasks and the bonfire’s radiant heat seemed to be diminishing. She was willing to poke it to see if there were any hot coals left and found non she thought would do harm. 

She began to reflect on the weekend and the interviews and what stood out and what surprised her was the wide range of viewpoints. She had not known what to expect, but certainly had not anticipated the extremes of beliefs and attitudes. They seemed to be all over the map, ones she had read about, but had never been exposed to and others similar to her own convictions, which in retrospect were not well formed at all. Was she still that little girl skipping on the dock with nothing on but the warmth of the sun? Had she simply been falling through life so far?

Although the warmth of the day had grown and she had been comfortable until now with the heat from the notebook pyre, suddenly she felt a little chill and so pulled on her kaftan shirt. She lifted one of the notebooks, one of the five she had filled with scrawls of wisdom. Was it wisdom? Was it just random viewpoints formed by a plethora of experiences shaping life? Wisdom had to involve analysis didn’t it? Were these viewpoints all carefully arrived at after serious and comprehensive analysis? And if they were why were they so different if there was only one set of facts? Was that the problem, viewpoints were personal, subjective and relative? 

From day one for everybody, ‘common’ was a statistic only, an average no one represented. Facts were malleable and without acceptable guiding consensus it was difficult to know where to turn for the correct information. 

Sarah certainly knew about the whole issue of misleading information, rumour, innuendo rampant on the internet in scams, tweets, advertising and in various publications and opinion pieces. As a journalist one could not help but be aware. So, why had she been so surprised with the spoken viewpoints of the guests? Was it simply the viewpoints were just not her viewpoints and until someone expresses a view, one does not know what will be said let alone know what information shaped the viewpoint? In retrospect and in response to the viewpoints she could only ask and did ask, Why? She was not there to express a view, just to record them as a dutiful reporter. Still, she came away with lots more questions than the ones she started with. She wondered if this weekend would amount to a life changing experience for her.

Now she had to figure out what to do with all the notes and how to put it into perspective alongside the theme Greg had fashioned. Maybe this afternoon with the Editor it would become clearer. The Editor, oh no, how could it be clearer if everything had been muddied with him? How was she going to navigate past last night? Two nights and two bed partners. 

“Oh, my world, it is coming apart,” she uttered to no one in particular. 

Sarah had been creeping out of a hole and now she was right back in it. Only a couple of hours. She had to put on a face, a professional one she hoped, and brave the afternoon meeting.  Maybe, just maybe something recognizable as good would come from all this. 

Bang on three o’clock Sarah walked through the paper’s front door. 

“Good morning,” chirped Alice, “he said he wanted to see you as soon as you came in.”

Without much enthusiasm Sarah mustered a “Thanks.”

She dropped her bag on her chair, tossed keys in the open drawer and kept walking. No point in delaying the inevitable she thought and need to keep walking that way or I might turn around and walk out the other way. His door was ajar, he was on the phone, he saw her and waved her in. She, not noiselessly, dropped into one of the two chairs facing the Editor and his desk. At least there was that between them. He ended his conversation quickly, put the phone back in its cradle and looked across at Sarah. She looked down.

“Look I know this isn’t easy.” 

You don’t know the half-of-it, she thought. 

“I think we need to clear the air so to speak and then we can get on with work.” 

It is not the air, she felt, it is the bloody muddied water. 

“So, yes you were in my bed last night, sleeping. Yes, I put you there because I could not leave you where you were for when my cleaner arrived.” 

How thoughtful. 

“You were not taking up much room so I climbed in beside you, a better prospect than having a sore back from sitting in a chair all night.” 

Naturally. 

“I directed the cleaner away from the bedroom and she left without being aware you were there.” 

What about my shoes, my bag, my smell? What about your neighbour who I bumped into when I was leaving? 

“So, only you and I know you were there last night and nothing sexual happened anyway.” 

Is that a good thing or a bad thing? 

“I know you were exhausted from the weekend and so I figured you could recoup  somewhat this morning and be more ready to consider options for your notes and recordings this afternoon.” 

Why didn’t something sexual happen? Is there something wrong with me? 

“So, have you thought about the weekend and what you were able to glean from all the guests?”

“I’ll be back in a moment,” she said.

Sarah got up, straightened up, went out the office door, turned right and went into the toilet. She sat down and erupted in tears. In a moment she heard Alice’s soft voice.

“Are you OK, Sarah?”

“No, I am bloody well not OK. I just spent the night in the Editor’s bed and he tells me we did not have sex. How would you feel?”

“Relieved, I think. Look sex is a whole other level of complication. You should feel fortunate he’s not the type to take advantage. It could be a whole lot worse including being out of a job. Nothing is broken. You are in one piece and if it is just a little bump on your self-esteem, well not so bad. It will heal.”

“Humpf, humpf, humpf.”

“Come on, give your face a splash and go face your destiny and show him just how good a reporter you can be. Put the emotional gene aside and focus on the task.” 

Sarah looked at Alice, stood, threw water at herself, felt a bit better, maybe well enough to pull this off as long as no other lame words were uttered and returned to the chair she had just a few minutes previously vacated. 

“What was your question?” she asked.

“I’m sorry?” replied the Editor.

“Fine. Apology accepted. What was your question?” she asked again.

The Editor took a moment to try to figure out what was being said, couldn’t quite get there, remembered what he had asked Sarah and more or less repeated himself.

“I took a lot of notes and recordings,” she said. “It will take more than a couple of hours to really get a sense of what I have in all those scribbles. Lets just say the guests were a diverse group of people with a wide variety of viewpoints. To be really honest I am not sure what can be made from it all. If we do anything, my sense is it will require follow up and back and fact checking galore. Maybe we can use some of Greg’s themes to make a broader comment by illustrating diverse viewpoint and interests. When I get a short form together, maybe you can look at it and with two heads we might come up with an idea.”

“Sounds like a plan. So, take tomorrow and produce your short form along with a proposal, I’ll have a look at it and we will go from there,” concluded the Editor.

“Thanks.” 

Sarah rose stopped in the door to say something, thought better of it, went to her desk for her bag and started to leave. 

“Your keys?” asked Alice.

“Top drawer, right?”

“Right.”

Sarah resolved to just give Alice her keys next time she was in, if she could remember to do so. She left for the short walk to her apartment enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon sun. She had a lot of reading, listening and revising to do.

Mellie could see there was a little smoke rising from the fire pit. Even though the pit was well made, she felt the fire should be well and truly out. She noticed a plastic bucket near the wood pile, went to retrieve it and noticed a hose and faucet. Perfect she thought and ran some water into the bucket and then dumped the contents on the smouldering embers resulting in lots of steam and hissing. She thought the dousing would work and decided to return in a while to see.

Her next most obvious task was to check around the pool for things left out, towels, dishes, glasses, cushions and so on. Scanning the rocks and patchy grass she realized there was more than she could carry in one trip. She then thought If she had something like a wheel barrow most of this stuff could be carted back to the house. She picked up a couple of towels and went on a hunt near the house. She knew there was one in the garden, but did not want to walk all the way there if something close by could work. It did not take long before she found the two wheel cart she had forgotten about, perfect for the job, parked in a nook just off the patio. Even with this cart she was not sure it would all fit in one trip. In fact it took two trips before the pool edge was cleared to her satisfaction. 

As Mellie went about her tasks of cleaning and sorting and putting away she sang songs from her youth, songs she had heard her mother sing or songs from her community. She started quietly, humming parts of pieces and gradually started to sing the music through the rhythm of the words and more words were remembered and a cascade of music tumbled out. Gradually her singing grew louder into full throated renditions Greg could hear at the wood pile. 

What started her off probably related to the impending gig on the weekend. She started to practice, to find a long lost voice, to build some confidence. She wanted to be ready and singing her heart out was a good way to get in the mood. It had been a very long time since she last sung for herself for the memory of an earlier life, for her mother. She sang and the tears flowed. She sang and Greg listened.

Greg stopped chopping. He had built his own familiar physical rhythm and was ready to  begin another thinking when Mellie’s melodic reached him. At first he tried to put it out of his mind. He really wanted to enter into the continuation of his previous thoughts and talk about urban problems, but soon found Mellie had moved in instead. 

He propped his axe against the wood and sat down on a corner of the pile.

“Where did this Mellie girl come from to invade my life like this?” 

He sat, he listened, her voice was mesmerizing. He stayed like that for twenty minutes drinking in the sound. It was as if the world had stopped to listen as otherwise silence prevailed. This was Mellie’s moment. As he relaxed his hand brushed the axe handle and he instantly knew to get going again. The thoughts would have to wait, but the chopping could be resumed while the singer had her way.

Sometime later the concert ended. Greg listened hoping for more, but without satisfaction. Mellie had sung herself into deep reflection and she knew going ‘back home’ was the right thing to do, when the anticipation felt good it would be the right thing to do. Clearly it would be the right thing to do.

Sarah had quickly scanned through her notes looking for inspiration. She needed to figure out what she had in her scribbles, but more important to decide what to do with all of it. What she now read confirmed her earlier sense of a body of answers to questions running the full gamut of the social and political spectrum. This was not going to be easy. There was also the grain of something else she could not put her finger on.

When she woke it was dark outside. Obviously she had got herself too comfortable for scanning her notes and the weekend had caught up with her energy levels. The nap had not been a total waste of time though. Apart from now feeling refreshed, her mind had not stopped working and she had some ideas about how to proceed with the material. One take away from the weekend and the interviews had been the notion, people are interesting for what they do and for what they think. She had a lot of good stuff in her notes, knew more was required, but this time with more focused interviews she was confident some good profile articles were possible. 

Currently, while the paper reported news, there was no presentation of the people in the community to the community. What were their passions? What did their jobs entail? What did they think about the world around them? She had a title: Community Profiles. It would be a community service in that career information could be shared and it would give people an opportunity to vent or rant if they chose to do so. Certainly for young and older reading about what others do and think would be educational and would help to draw people together in a more collegial way. 

A Community Profiles column could go on for ever as there was no shortage of people to interview. She thought about Alice whom she never really thought about except when she could not find her keys and wondered what it was in Alice that had compelled her to check up on her when she was falling apart in the toilet. Calm and sensible Alice. How many more calm and sensible people were doing their part to make the community work? In Community Profiles she could begin to tease it out into the open.

Sarah put her notes away, resolved to tackle a proposal outline in the morning and maybe work up an article for the person she had the most information about. She felt her Editor would go for the idea as he had encouraged her to be involved in the weekend in the first place. 

Greg had accomplished a lot of chopping. Another good day and he would be finished for this year. Mellie had cleaned up and then moved on to weeding in the garden while humming some more childhood memories. Now they were quiet in the pickup going back to the apartment. Greg took the opportunity to revisit his thoughts, this time silently.

As long as technology was powered by human hands and draft animals human settlement remained comprehensible and manageable although certainly issues of fire, cleanliness and water safety did arise. By comprehensive I mean the scale was not so large and generally the functioning of a settlement was small enough to be understood without too much effort. They were manageable in an almost casual way, certainly not perfectly, but within the scope of all the various users. Once harnessed combustible energy was developed the doors of opportunity were flung open.

Through various technologies huge improvements have been made, but they have been achieved at a cost almost negating the benefits. In 2013, according to WHO, around the world 1.25 million people were killed in road related accidents. That number represents only the tip of the iceberg for all unnatural causes of death. 

For the past two hundred and fifty years issues directly associated with the trends of the increasing scale of development, economic and political power (Who is in control?) and skewed wealth distribution have dominated. I will not dispute the fact that much good has also been achieved, but at what costs now and into the future. These issues together are daunting, impossible to deal with in a few paragraphs. And yet maybe these important themes can be tickled a bit and some of the more important consequences hi-lighted. In tickling it is important to recognize these three trends are simultaneously reflections and manifestations of our values, attitudes and beliefs (VABs). They represent who and what we have become.

The scale of development has grown enormously in a demand / supply tango. With the two partners so closely entwined it is difficult to know exactly who was leading and who following. In some respects it really does not matter as the important result of a well performed dance has been the goal and it takes two in happy coordination to achieve such a result. The result has been burgeoning urban settlement now housing more than half the world’s population. The provision of services and infrastructure to house these people and the work they do has lead to many problems some anticipated others not. The needless death toll stands out as does the impact on the environment. Unfortunately both results and other decisions are largely hidden by distractions and willful ignorance. 

The urban systems we have created have been a response on the one hand to human                 needs of shelter, security, food, widget development and employment and on the other to a desire to exploit those same needs. At the core of it all is the societal and settlement patterns we adopt and build. 

In my previous aside I spoke about links and nodes. Every society / settlement has them and they form a significant part of the foundation upon which development occurs. Two other words say more or less the same thing, but with slightly different connotations. Instead of links and nodes substitute mobility and destination. Mobility states what we do, what we move and why we do what we do and destination identifies the locations of our objectives. We walk the dog to the dog park. We walk hand in hand to a park with a view to catch a sunset. We jump in the car to go to the mall. We take the streetcar to our place of work. We ride a bicycle to go to school. We go to do and conversely do to go. The systems within systems we have developed support these two fundamental actions and many more besides all contributing to the increased scale of development.

Inevitability with increased scale comes an unavoidability of gains, issues and real problems. Call them what you will as scale increases these known and unknown consequences are amplified. The volume of their chatter is turned up contributing to the societal cacophony. From time to time some of these consequences rise above other societal noises taking on a prominence, disruptive whether good or bad. On the one hand they can be celebrated or on the other will need to be drenched until the smouldering embers are well and truly out. 

In order to state the impact of scale a little more clearly, consider these following examples. Britain for shipbuilding and growing domestic and industrial requirements for industry generally resulted in Canada in a widespread forest diminishment into the first half of the twentieth century. During the period of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries a massive adjustment toward fossil (carbon) fuels, required for a burgeoning population and industrial enterprise, has now resulted in dramatic increases in greenhouse gases with a commensurate influence leading to climate warming and destabilization. Humanity’s influence on the environment has grown to be global. Desertification, species at risk, increased incidence of wildfires and arctic ice melt are just the tip of the iceberg of consequences for the global environment. For the most part these notable impact trends are clearly tied to the increased scale of human influences. While all of these scale related issues are of real concern and consequence, maybe the most disconcerting result has been our reactive response as opposed to a preventative protocol. This reactive response is indicative of a very real lack of full knowledge. In effect as scale has increased we have not been able to anticipate the consequences.

Scale increases have been driven by those exercising economic and political control and decision-making. Some would say these decision-makers are only responding to demands and do not control anything. The Politician spoke in part to this when she advocated for the market. Yet, the amount spent on lobbying and advertising tells a different story. 

Decision-making in any context is important, but when the stakes are large the importance escalates dramatically. In this there is a triangular tripartite set of extreme values and attitudes: 1. Community orientation resulting in personal and group sacrifice for the benefit of the community; 2. Personal acquisition at any cost; 3. Power hungry, a desire to be in control.  All three have an extreme sense of what is right according to and in support of their VABs. The rest of society not in positions of extreme display variations on these themes in degrees of separation from the extremes. In other words they function somewhere in the muddle in the middle.

Those exercising economic and political control do so as surrogates. It is functionally and organizationally impossible for all members of society to be involved in all decision-making. Surrogates adopt or we give responsibility to them for decision-making on our behalf. Unfortunately these relatively few people tend towards remaining remote from the very people for whom they are suppose to be making decisions. Again scale is a barrier and is amplified by consolidation, concentration and centralization. 

The difficulty in all of this is trying to grasp an understanding of societal nuances. To state it more directly, the leaders of society, those functioning as surrogates on behalf of a constituent group, have different goals and agendas. The proliferation in our modern times of lobbying is a prime example of the diversity in the myriad of agendas. While there are common themes and goals, the diversity in detail including time frames is huge. Generally economic gain is more short-term (years to decades) while environmental pain is more long-term (decades to centuries). The number of groups lining up beside and behind these agendas is huge, indeed they represent the whole of a fragmented society.

For various reasons economic gain, the profit and wealth creation motive, is highly influential while environmental degradation tends to be a consequence of doing business including the expansion of a chosen settlement pattern. 

Historically gains and losses have been distributed unequally. Today, however, wealth disparity is huge. Fewer people and economic entities control more of the worlds wealth than ever before. This condition is easily observable in our formal authorized settlements and in the makeshift slums and camps. Skewed wealth distribution is a direct reflection of the priorities we assign to different products, activities and enterprise. 

I don’t want to give the impression the disparity has been designed just by the few in control. Society as a whole has participated in the economic exchange, but the reward distributions for work done have been grossly unfair and simultaneously have become a significant drag on improvements to society. 

And indeed there are those, for various reasons, who have almost entirely dropped out or have been excluded from participating in society generally and more particularly in our economic systems. They live on and in the fringes and their numbers are growing just as the few wealthy control and gain more. 

Inevitably over time in a changing whirl of activity some interests begin to dominate and unless there is a conscious effort to share benefits more equitably and according to an improved set of VABs and priorities those benefits will accumulate in fewer and fewer hands.

By the time they reached Greg’s apartment Mellie was in a real down. She had enjoyed the day working hard and all the singing was a bonus bringing floods of memories. In the pickup it all seemed to evaporate. Greg was not being communicative at all and she did not know whether the Mechanic was going to come through on his offer for her to sing with his band. In absence of any information her thoughts were turning decidedly negative as she was beginning to think he had second thoughts. Then there was the impending day of departure and her confused state of not knowing what to do, go or stay. Even worse she still did not know if she had a choice. 

They reached the apartment, Greg hurried up the stairs and Mellie dragged herself up behind the diminishing sound of his footsteps. She reached the apartment and continued on up to her bedroom and could think of doing nothing more than just flinging herself on the bed. 

In a while Greg’s dad appeared with a mug of hot chocolate and a brown  envelope for her. He said it was left by the Mechanic in the morning just after Greg and she had gone to the farm. 

“I thought you might also like a mug of chocolate. Saw you dragging your chin between your legs when you came back. Thought something had upset you. Always find hot chocolate revives the spirits. Anything else I can do, like be a sounding board?” 

She sat up took the mug wrapping her hands around it, hugged it tightly to her chest and looked at the envelope. 

“What’s in it?”

“I don’t know, haven’t looked, it is for you,” Frank said.

“Thanks.”  

She continued to stare at it just as the hot mug began to revive her spirits exactly as Greg’s dad had hoped. In a few minutes she was ready to open the envelope and in doing so found a note with some manuscript. She could do nothing else but take a deep breath, drink some chocolate and sigh. 

“Thank you,” she said to the ceiling “and to you. So, what is your name, what do you want me to call you? I can’t just call you Greg’s dad.”

“No, s’pose not, Frank will do. Enjoy the chocolate,” and with that he backed out of her room.

“I will,” and then she added, “Thanks Frank.”

When they had arrived back at the apartment Greg had seen the envelope, guessed what was in it and went directly into the pub, saw what he wanted to see and then called the Mechanic. With that done he then returned to the apartment to see what he could do to get Mellie out of her doldrums. As he entered he saw his dad descend the last few steps and not seeing the envelope asked, “Did you give it to her?”

“Yup, and a hot chocolate.”

“Was she any better for it? If I remember those hot chocolates of yours could revive the dead.”

“Think so.”

“Good, have you done any dinner and where are your friends?”

“Dinner’s in the oven and they went back to their street.”

“What do you think about the pub? Do you want to run it? Do you want a beer?”

“I am impressed with your pub. I want to think on it. A beer would be fine.”

Greg went off to find a beer and realized he was not going to get much more from his dad as he seemed to be in his clipped speaking mode, a way of speaking he fell into when talking was not what he wanted to do.

“Here you go, cheers,” offered Greg. 

As he handed over the beer he was set back a bit when his dad posed a question. 

“What does Mellie mean to you? How is she fitting in to all of this, the things you are doing, your life?”

“Oh, unfortunately she is just passing through. After here she is off back to her home out East.”

“Really?” replied Frank in a subtle skeptical tone.

“Yes, at least that is what she has been telling me. Do you know something different?”

“No, not really, just a hunch.”

“And what is your hunch?”

“Nothing profound, nothing for sure, can’t say.”

“Well, do let me know if your hunch is correct, whatever it is. And now the girl about whom we speak needs some food and so do I so I am going to call her down.”

“Mind if I sleep here tonight?”

“I was hoping you would do just that. First room up the stairs.”

“G’night.”

“Sleep well dad and if you are going up maybe tell Mellie there is some food down here for her.”

Frank turned to go, put his hand on Greg’s shoulder, said “Thanks” and climbed the stairs continuing along the balcony to give Mellie the message before retreating to his room to think over Greg’s offer.

Greg watched him go thinking there is still a good deal of strength in the old man despite living on the street for so many years. He then wondered if his dad had seen something in Mellie he had missed. He went into the kitchen, got plates out and dished out the dinner finishing just as Mellie appeared. 

“Fancy a candle lit dinner on the patio?”

“Oh ya, and have you ordered stars also?” she asked.

“Well, the waiter wasn’t sure if there were any left being late in the evening, but said he would ask. Wine or beer?”

“White. Let’s go see.”

Each with grub and lubrication, Greg followed Mellie onto the star and candle lit patio.

Frank was facing a multi-facetted dilemma and he just was not sure, he did not have the clarity of mind to know what decision to make. In another time as a younger man he would have jumped at Greg’s offer. If you are in the hospitality business who wouldn’t want to run their own establishment? Well, in fact he knew there would be lots of people who would be quite willing to work in such a place but would not want the responsibility of managing it to success, lot of downsides in that decision. On the other hand there would be a good wage coming from a successful operation even though the workload would be high. He would be fairly compensated he knew. Unfortunately for Frank it was not just about workload, a good wage and satisfaction of a job well done. By deciding to take on the pub he would have to leave the life and people he had enjoyed over his recent past unless of course he could find a way to bring some of the street people into the business. 

Of course there was also the fact street life was a hard slog. He was not getting any younger and recent difficulties around drugs, pimps, municipal officials, resource acquisition and the police had all combined to diminish the values associated with street life. Maybe the timing of Greg’s offer was too good to turn down.

For a while Frank threw all of this around in his mind trying to find a solution. Deep down he knew he had to accept the offer and as his mind started to form a decision inevitably he started to create a mental list of names of street people who would fit into such a business. It did not take a great deal of effort to come up with a dozen names. Whether they would accept work offers he did not know. Even though he knew the histories of these people, he could not be sure they would all work out. Living or working on the street is quite another matter to working a shift in a pub establishment. 

For them it would not just be a situation where they could just show up for work. They would have to be trained and their appearances and attitudes would have to be adjusted. For them in the end it could mean an opportunity to climb up out of street life, but it would also mean they would be giving up a certain amount of independence. Would they be willing to do so? He did not know. What he did know was some had really been burned in their pasts and their various circumstances had lead to the only option available to them, street life.

His energy level was starting to fade so he decided in the morning to prepare a proposal for Greg. There was a computer in his room so it would be easy for him to generate something for Greg to consider. Then he thought about Mellie again and wondered where she fit into all of this, if indeed she did at all. Maybe Greg was right, she was just passing through, but he did not think so. Her eyes told a different story to her outer carriage and presence. He was sure she had a troubled mind and guessed it had something to do with home and moving on. He had seen it so often in the young on the street. They could not go home and did not know where else to go, found some common understanding from other street people and gained a comfort  enough to ease into a decision to stay on the street despite all the difficulties that would entail. He knew Mellie was not a street person, she had too much pride and reserved ambition to be satisfied with street life. He knew Greg would not knowingly allow something like that to happen to her as he had helped other young people in the past. But there was something else going on.

Chapter 10

Sarah woke to the morning glow and was up with the sun ready to get going on writing a proposal and sample Community Profile piece. Before sitting down to work though she wanted to clear her mind from the vivid dreams of the night, dreams she did not understand at all. She also wanted to start her day a little differently. If anything had come from the weekend for her she figured a diet adjustment would be one of the more beneficial consequences, for her at least. 

Coffee would continue to be on her menu, however she realized the instant stuff was really not coffee. She had been spooning it out for years and all the while she had been denying herself a good coffee beginning to the day. At the farm beans were freshly roasted and then ground. Only on very rare occasions had she tasted such good stuff. 

While she did not have a roaster, she did have beans, although they were somewhat past their sell-by-date, and a grinder she had intended on re-gifting, but had never got around to it. As she prepared the black drink it occurred to her it took no more time than spooning it out as the water still had to boil. 

With that done she let it brew and started on the second change, making a fruit salad. Between fresh and dried fruits she had enough for a respectable preparation and even had some yoghurt as a topping. There was more salad than she wanted at the moment and so split it in half and then sat down at her balcony table to enjoy it, the coffee and the morning sun filtering through the big oak behind her apartment.

As she ate and drank her mind wandered back to the weekend at Greg’s farm and all the new experiences she had gained. Just exactly how she had ended up swimming naked with everyone she wasn’t sure. It seemed to just happen and seemed to be the most natural thing to do. The treasure hunt was fun and became a real puzzle challenge and personality exposé. When her team was stymied she had really felt helpless to contribute. Mellie apparently did much better, indeed she realized Mellie generally did much better. She needed to take a lesson from her example, be less fretful and maybe slower to respond and try to be more reflective if that was the right word. She then recalled her first meeting with Greg and her keys and thought what a klutz I am and then thought if she had not screwed up so badly maybe none of the past weekend would have happened for her. She had to stop flitting about in her mind and learn to gain a bit of focus. Then there was the mud fight. What a riot. That was why she ended up naked in the pool, for the second time. Have to put those clothes through the washing machine she thought. With the salad finished and the coffee down to the dregs, she started to think about the format for the proposal and the Community Profile article.

After dinner and laughs with Greg, Mellie asked if she could use the piano for a while to work with the music the Mechanic had left for her. It was getting late and she could wait until the morning, but she felt she would sleep better after working on the music and lyrics, a sort of quick run through just to get a sense of the Mechanic’s band’s intentions and musical sophistication. 

Greg was happy to oblige, said he would clean up while she explored the music and added it would be a lovely way to go to sleep, something he had enjoyed doing when Rose played late.

Mellie had already quickly scanned through the titles and figured she was familiar with most of the music and that it would not take a great deal of effort to align with the tempo and style of the band. The set was actually a very good selection coming from some of the greats in jazz, the blues and folk. If all went well this was going to be a lot of fun, she thought. It took her two-and-a-half hours to work through everything. By the end she was exhausted, but very pleased with the music and happy about working through it. She hoped Greg had been able to fall asleep. Unfortunately for Mellie, sleep did not come easily. She wondered why sometimes when she felt so very very tired,  sleep was elusive. In the end she got only a couple of hours, but strangely felt quite rested and was more than happy to follow the wafts of coffee odour coming from the kitchen. She expected to find Greg there, but instead it was Frank who was cooking up a breakfast storm.

“That was you last night I gather playing away to your hearts content?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, I hope I did not keep you awake. I confess it was Greg I did not want to lose sleep and did not think about you. I didn’t even remember you were here. Thanks for the hot chocolate by the way, it really got me out of a pit.”

“Ya, well thought you needed it. Breakfast is about ready. Maybe you could go and knock up Greg, let him know his grub is on a plate,” said Frank.

“Oh, should I? I don’t want to disturb his sleep if he is still sleeping. Maybe I kept him awake.”

“I doubt that will be an issue. If I know him he has been awake for a couple of hours working on some scheme or other.”

“Ok, I will, as you say, knock him up.”

Mellie did as was suggested and then returned to the kitchen where Frank was putting the final touches on waffles and fruit with maple syrup, croissants and coffee. Mellie asked if they were eating indoors or outdoors to which Frank replied it was all set up on the patio. 

He then asked her, “So, what or who is the attraction out East to make you want to return there? How long have you been away?”

“Well, there are no ‘whoes’ there and the what involves culture and landscape. It is what I grew up with. I suppose I know it, them, more and better than I know anywhere else and I don’t think it would take long to get established again. As for time away, I suppose what with university and jobs it has been a decade since I lived where I grew up.”

“That is a good while. Lots of change could have happened and maybe it is not now as you remember it,” Frank said.

“You may be right, but I need to go and look for myself, try it out, see if it fits or if some of the seams need to be adjusted. To be honest I really don’t know what to expect. Everyone I grew up with may have moved away or they now have lives and no room for a prodigal daughter. At the moment I just don’t know of anywhere else where I want to live.”

“What about here?” asked Frank.

“What do you mean by ‘here’? Are you asking about the community or this apartment?”

“I was thinking with Greg,” he suggested.

“So, do you mean this apartment or in his bed?” asked Mellie.

“The latter,” replied Frank with a subtle smirk.

“Huh. That’s not likely. I have a question for you. Are you trying to achieve a bit of match-making for your son’s benefit or just what are you asking, implying?” she quizzed.

“Sure, I would like to see Greg paired up again. He lost a lot when he lost Rose. Hasn’t quite been the same man since. I am looking out for his welfare and you two seem to get on well and so thought I would plant a seed.”

“Thanks for being honest, but really he is not interested in me being his partner. He is too pre-occupied with all his responsibilities and schemes, as you call them. For him, I am just passing through and I expect soon there will be another body in my place helping with chores and the like,” she said only half admitting what she said was the way it was going to be.

“Well, that is a definite maybe if I ever heard one. Do you really believe it is just up to Greg? What about your feelings and emotions? What about showing him or indeed telling him you want to shack up with him, learn from and with him, laugh and have a good time with him like last night over your dinner? If he doesn’t know what you are thinking and feeling, yes, you will just pass through and out of his life.”

“You were listening to us over dinner?” Mellie said.

“Hard not too given the volume,” replied Frank with a bigger smirk this time.

Greg then appeared saying, “So, what have you two been cooking up? Smells delicious and I am famished and it is going to be a long day.”

Frank in his calm and cool manner simply said, “Ah, well, we have been exploring future possibilities for Mellie and now breakfast is served on the patio.”

On the patio Greg directed his question to Mellie, “And what possibilities are you considering?”

Frank very subtly, but enough for Mellie to see, shook his head. 

“It is all very vague, the future that is, so not easy to pin an option down. I suppose I will just have to look at what is possible and probably use my degree and experiences in some way.”

“Sounds reasonable and you plan to do this back in your home town?” asked Greg, uncertain what else to ask.

“At the moment that is the plan,” replied Mellie, without looking at Greg.

“C’mon, eat up before it gets cold,” Frank said and to change the subject said to Greg, “I will make use of the computer in my room today and prepare a proposal for you to consider. In short I am interested in taking on your pub establishment, but only if you agree to my conditions.”

“Well, give me your proposal and if I feel it is necessary I will make suggestions. If we are in agreement, it is yours to get on with. Tonight you can get a taste of how it might function as I have offered the space to the Mechanic’s band for a rehearsal. A piano should be delivered sometime this afternoon and a tuner should be in shortly thereafter to do his thing. I won’t be here so maybe you could supervise the delivery and set up.”

“Yes, I can do that,” said Frank.

“Good, after breakies Mellie and I are off to do chores and weeding. I will have her back in good time to rest for tonight. While we are on the subject, tomorrow Mellie and I are off to the big city to check up on a project I have been involved with for the past four years. It has been a while since I visited so I am keen to see their progress.”

“Is that the project you told me about earlier?” Mellie asked.

“Yes and let’s just say I think you will be interested in it. All will be revealed tomorrow. Tonight, you have some singing to do and just now we have to do some chores and weeding catch up. Great breakfast, do you mind cleaning up dad? And Mellie, we need to be ready to go in fifteen.”

“Chop chop chop, I’ll be ready, but I am helping Frank first,” Mellie said.

“Ok, sorry, I was being a bit abrupt. How about let’s all clean up and then get on with the rest of our lives.” 

They did that more or less in silence and as good as her word, Mellie was ready to go with Sally at her feet before Greg. Frank was off to the computer and the day had well and truly begun. As they drove to the farm Mellie hummed the music for the night and asked Greg if they could go clothes shopping as she did not feel she had anything suitable for the weekend gig. 

Greg responded, “I don’t think we are going to have time for such an adventure. There is an alternative though. I have never got around to cleaning out Rose’s wardrobe. Your size is comparable to Rose’s and I think enough time has gone by for me so that if you wore some of her clothes I would not get upset.”

“Are you sure?” Mellie said somewhat taken aback.

“I think so and in a funny way I think I would prefer to know who was wearing her clothes than just passing them along to unknown and unappreciative  women, that is those who knew nothing about Rose,” reflected Greg.

“Well, if you are sure, when we get back to your apartment just point me in the right direction and I will see if any of it is me,” Mellie replied.

“Done or as good as done and now at the farm this is what I would appreciate you doing.” 

Greg explained the chores, including continuing to finish up with digging the channel routing water away from the barn.

With wood chopping almost done, Greg was going to focus on the garden. It was the time of year when weeds seemed to spring up everywhere and grow very fast. To leave them alone and let them go to seed would cause a lot of problems toward harvest time and next year as the weed seeds germinated.

Mellie and Sally initially went off to the cows. Greg immediately stripped down to an oversized white shirt, got into garden mode and revisited his cogitations.

In the previous thinking I spoke about scale, economic and political control and about wealth distribution. I am not finished with them and I need to add other subject matters of influence affecting urban quality.

Early on in this sequence of cogitations I discussed, to a superficial degree, the way we think and concluded our decisions are actually design choices. I suggested these design choices came about from sensory input and over time from our growth and development, leading to an accumulation of values, attitudes and beliefs along with our memories, experiences and knowledge. 

Over a great deal of time through the long period of humanity’s development we have learned about the incredible versatility and practical application of systems. Today human society in all its manifestations, is based upon and functioning with systems. It is  systems we design.

Regarding urban settlement, our designs invoke system/pattern choice according to a variety of inputs to the design process including the above mentioned VABs and MEKs at individual and societal levels. There is a great deal of other information also considered such as economics, technology, the environment and so on. With the relative exception of urban fringe areas urban settlement, once begun, also presents a legacy of designed patterns. Design never really occurs on a clean slate or in a vacuum.

Every design decision, intended or not, has consequences. Some at the time of development are very significant causing much disruption until all the effects calm down. Others are insignificant, may be very short term and really have little or no impact. Other insignificant effects may last for lengthy periods of time and in an incremental fashion over time build into crescendo. These are the subtle time-bombs and can and do combine into additional issues arising from increasing scale. Indeed scale has proven to be the elephant in the room. As I mentioned above in a previous thinking scale amplifies, good or bad and can reverse these two outcomes. 

We are motivated by our VABs, MEKs, dreams and societal influences. The enormity of these influences has real impact and again is a consequence of increasing scale. 

Years ago a term not often used now was prominent in our discourse as a descriptive term used to explain why people were doing what they were doing. While it certainly did not explain everything, “keeping up with the Jones’s” spoke to the phenomenon of everyone wanting what everyone else had gained, the phrase spoke to our acquisitive nature as did the terms “more is better” and “bigger is better”. Today there is the phrase “Buy more save more.” again condoning and encouraging consumption. Once gained of course then we do not want to lose it. Change then, unless there are perceived benefits, is not always easy to achieve especially if it involves perceived take-away, that is loss. 

There is a very large enterprise in society selling dreams of one form or another. Whether the dreams are good for society or not does not seem to matter to many of the product developers and their sellers or marketers. These producers are for the most part motivated by profit acquisition and growth to achieve more profit. I don’t want to dwell on this too much, but it is important to recognize the link between the scale of increasing development, the need to sustain growth to finance and generally support even more development, the impact on settlement pattern and eventually and inevitably upon the environment. Our settlements, their shapes, the links and nodes, the ways in which the systems function are products and manifestations of dream producers and chasers. It is also quite clear governments are partners in this phenomenon. Remember George W. Bush encouraging people to buy more as an antidote to 9/11. Essentially we are on a treadmill moving too fast and we are having a great deal of difficulty getting off.

So our VABs and other influences drive our actions. We do and want more and more and the scale ramps up. Our settlements and the technologies we have come to demand and protect at huge cost have become in many ways a collective degradation. We are facing a dilemma and we will have to make some very real, consequential and significant choices. The dilemma: do we continue along the business as usual path of excess and ever increasing growth and scale in the name of profit and wealth creation or do we acknowledge our excesses and begin to concentrate on systems and support for healthy, liveable, caring and sharing communities? There are limits to growth, limits we have known for decades and that begs the question: What do we need, what can we support and how will our settlements and their function need to be adjusted to accommodate the necessary changes? Clearly, for people to make changes in the way they live in towns or on the land, there will have to be changes made to infrastructure, to regulations enabling change to occur from a regulatory point of view and there will need to be opportunities available, a basket of practical options for people to employ in their daily lives.

Mellie eventually joined Greg in the garden stripping down to one of her extraordinary t-shirts, this one depicting comic heroes. She had almost completed her tasks, but not without incidence and some wonderful bird and animal sightings. Unfortunately she could not identify all she had seen, not specifically anyway. There seemed to be two different kinds of raptors, one quite large with what appeared to be a red tail and another, rather slender, just skipping over the tree tops. She wasn’t sure if she had seen it correctly because of the light, but it did appear to have a white patch on its tail. Then there was the heron, she knew it because it looked like a miniature flying dinosaur. There was the groundhog Sally just missed as it scurried into the ground. There were, she thought, woodpeckers, but could not see them. There were also crows or ravens, she did not know which. The cows were just being cows and their nose-pump was working fine although from use a depression in the ground was being created in front of the pump. 

Mellie then went back to the barn to clean up some of the mud-fight and to do more on cleaning the drainage ditch. She almost finished, but thought she should stop and go to help Greg in the garden. Besides she really wanted to feel the warmth of the sun on her back as digging the trench was done in ever extending shadow caused by some enormous oaks, pines and beech on the perimeter of the wetland into which the drainage went.

As she entered into the garden Greg, with his oversized white shirt on and his broad rimed straw hat, was busy weeding in the roots. Mellie called hi and got busy with the potatoes patch all the while humming some of the music she would be working on in the evening with the Mechanic’s band. The sun on her back was wonderful and certainly was welcome on by no means the hottest day of the summer. 

The two weeders worked away for about an hour and then Greg called a halt by saying to Mellie from the edge of the potatoes. 

“Time to get cleaned up and get you back to the apartment so you can have a break before tonight. I think we have accomplished enough here today.”

“Ok by me, but still lots to do,” she said as she looked around.

“Yes, another day, come on, I’ll race you for the shower,” challenged Greg.

Mellie was off instantly, taking Greg by surprise and easily winning the rights to a hot shower. Greg would have to suffer a warm one. 

While she showered, Greg put on one of his vinyl records, an early Janis Joplin, got a cold beer and settled down to listen until the shower was his. After four songs had played Mellie appeared wrapped in a towel indicating she had not used all the hot water. 

“Please flip the record when the side is done and when it is finished we need to get back to town.”

Greg pulled his shirt off and went for the shower while Mellie did as she had been instructed, found her clothes for the ride back to town and wondered what style of clothing Rose preferred. 

“This could be quite interesting,” she said to Janis.

When they arrived at the apartment Frank was nowhere to be found although there was an envelope for Greg containing his proposal for running the pub/restaurant. Greg showed Mellie where Rose had kept her wardrobe and said he would begin to prepare a dinner while looking at what his dad had prepared. 

Mellie was disappointed on first look by the amount of clothing in Rose’s wardrobe, but as soon as she started to look more closely realized Rose’s tastes were very quality oriented. This, she thought was going to be fun, especially as Greg had said there were no restrictions. 

Sarah spent the whole day on her proposal and article. She wanted to make it as air tight as possible with all the justifying argument in place, including any benefits she could think of for the paper and the community generally. 

Initially she roughed out the shape of the proposal identifying all the sections she believed were required. Then she started at the beginning again and made point notes for each section. As she worked thoughts for sections she was not working on popped into her head so very quickly she found herself moving back and forth from section to section in no particular order. When she had finished making notes she took a break recognizing in advance the difficult task of putting it all into English so it was coherent and easy to read. 

She decided a walk would do her good and a little bit of window shopping might just relax her mind for the next stage in the preparation of the proposal. In t-shirt, shorts and sandals she started off in the opposite direction to what she would normally go, taking her to a part of town she did not normally visit. As it turned out the Mechanic had his garage in this area. As if she was being pulled in by a magnet, Sarah eventually found herself outside the Mechanics garage. She thought why not and went in to see if he was there. 

She had not planned to do this. She did not know what she was going to say to the Mechanic. Maybe he would be too busy to even say hi. She didn’t know. As it turned out the Mechanic was enthusiastic about her visit. They chatted for ten minutes or so and that is when Sarah found out about the Mechanic’s band’s practice session in the evening being held at Greg’s soon to be opened pub. The Mechanic also informed Sarah, Mellie was slated to play a key role at the rehearsal and on the weekend. He encouraged Sarah to come to the rehearsal as an audience for Mellie would be a good thing.

Sarah promised to attend and then felt she needed to return to her computer, finish the proposal and write the first Community Profile. She was keen to get going again and wasted no time returning to her apartment. The break had been good. She was motivated and focused again. 

With a freshly ground coffee beside her keyboard, Sarah rapidly worked through the point form preparations completed earlier and had a finished five page proposal before the scheduled time she had allotted. 

She now turned her attention to the notes she had accumulated on the weekend about the Minister.  She knew more information was necessary to do a proper profile, but figured she had enough to write something to give the Editor a sense of what she was intending to do with the column. It took her the remainder of the afternoon to complete, was happy with what she had done, put both the proposal and the article in a large brown envelope and took it around to the paper and her Editor. 

“Ah, good, some bedtime reading,” was his response as she handed it to him. 

“Yes, I guess so unless you fancy coming with me to the Mechanic’s band’s rehearsal at Greg’s pub. Mellie is apparently fronting and could do with an audience. It might be fun and we could get a pre-opening peek at the pub.”

“Well, yes, I would be pleased to accompany you. Do you want to go together or just meet there?” asked the Editor.

“Oh, well lets make it a date and so you have to pick me up,” Sarah countered.

“No, no, you asked me out. You are the chauffeur tonight.”

“Really? Ok, I’ll pick you up at six-thirty or there about. Should give us time to get there and give Mellie a bit of a surprise. I wonder if they have food in there yet? Maybe we should pick up some nibbles on route.”

“Sounds good to me. I will leave it all in your capable hands,” he said.

Sarah left his office and the paper saying “Hi” to Alice on the way out, returned to her apartment and prepared a short list of snacky things to pick up before picking up the Editor. She then selected what she would wear and went for a shower and a bit of relaxation before going to pick up her Editor.

Frank had completed his proposal and then thought he had better go back to the street for tonight, especially as he wanted to talk to some of the people he would ask to be part of the pub team. As he left Greg’s apartment he was beginning to have second thoughts and decided instead not to try to see everyone and rather to just invite Julie and Mike to the pub for the band’s rehearsal. If Greg agreed to his proposal, he was going to offer Julie the floor manager position, essential to ensure the smooth running of an establishment of the size and configuration Greg had built.

He found them with a few other street people where he expected, under the bridge spanning the river running through town. It was a common area of congregation especially in the warm months of the year. The location actually had a number of advantages especially on the hottest of summer days and nights. One could get out of the sun and enjoy the natural air conditioning rising from the cool waters flowing past. In recent years Frank was also sure the river was running cleaner, there just did not seem to be the same amount of garbage floating past and the odours had moderated considerably. He felt it might have something to do with the installation of flow and flood control infrastructures, but he actually had no way of knowing for sure.

After the normal greetings and teasing, always a part of the repartee, Frank took Julie aside and outlined his proposal to Greg. He finished by offering her the floor manager position if Greg was in agreement. 

Julie had been wondering why Frank was telling her about the proposal, but when he offered her the position she wasn’t quite sure she had heard correctly. She asked for confirmation of what she thought she had heard him say and was silenced when Frank said she had heard correctly. 

Since her marriage ended, she had very little income and an autistic son. No one had offered her a job during her street years. Early on she had applied for numerous jobs but just could not see how she might work and look after her son. Non of the employers wanted an autistic boy hanging around. From time to time she had received mysterious ‘gifts’ helping her to get over hard moments. While she had suspicions they had never been confirmed. Her best option had continued to be the street.

Frank then said if she was interested the three of them could go to the pub tonight and catch a band rehearsal. He said it would give her a chance to look the place over so she would have a better notion of what was being offered and what her responsibilities would be as floor manager. 

While Frank was talking Julie was dredging up memories. In a past life, before her marriage, Julie had worked in a pub and from time to time had managed personnel and operations when the real manager was off sick or incapacitated due to excess drinking. It was a long time ago, but the memories were quite clear and becoming more fulsome as she thought about the experiences. She did not know Frank was aware of this part of her history.

“Sure,” she agreed, “lets go and see what this place is all about.” 

She asked Frank when they had to be there and he suggested any time and the sooner the better as it would give her an opportunity to look around, see how things were set up for the band, look in at the kitchen and maybe she could offer some suggestions how best to organize for the servers.

“OK, asap, but you need to give me a bit of time, say an hour, before we go.”

“An hour it is, so we should be able to get there by about six-thirty,” Frank calculated.

“Maybe a bit earlier if we meet up, lets say at the West entry to the mall. After I do what I have to do I don’t want to come back here.” Julie said.

“Fine the mall it is. I’ll be there in half-an-hour and you and Mike get there when you can.”

“You’re sure about this. I don’t want to go through this little exercise if it can’t happen.” Julie said.

“Well, let me put it to you this way. If Greg is unable to accept my proposal, then I will not be working there either. Even though he is my son, I have principles I am not prepared to compromise on. Minor tweaking of the proposal, that’s fine, but major change and I will probably not be able to agree.”

“That is fair. Ok, we are off and we will be at the mall as soon as we can get there.”

“Right, I am just going to have a bit of verbal jousting with this lot and then I’ll make my way there too. See you in a few minutes,” Frank said.

Unknown to Frank and something Julie had kept secret from all her street friends was the locker where she stored what few possessions she managed to squirrel away from her marriage. Among the items in storage were her clothes from a past life. If she was going to impress Greg and help Frank get the agreement he wanted, she would have to look respectable, look the part so to speak. She hurried Mike along. They made a quick stop at the public washroom before continuing on to the locker. In her mind she had already chosen the black skirt, white blouse, black jacket, a string of pearls and sandals. 

She and Mike returned to the washroom so she could check her appearance, was satisfied and they continued on to the mall making the round trip in forty-five minutes. On seeing them, Frank was, to say the least, impressed. 

“Well, well, you have hidden treasures somewhere or some lawyer is hiding in a washroom wondering just what happened to her.”

“The former,” Julie responded.

“I won’t pry. Let’s get over to the pub then and enjoy the evening. You OK Mike?”

“Yaaaa.”

“What is the name of this pub?” Julie asked.

“The Chandelier.”

“That is a funny name for a pub. I suppose there is a reason.”

“Well, yes, you will see why shortly,” Frank said.

When they did arrive at the entrance Julie was impressed. 

“Yes, I could go to work in a place like this,” she said to the Chandelier above the double doors.

Inside she was more sure and wondered how this Frank had come into her life. What she did not know, nor did Greg, was Frank had a brief fling when his life fell apart those many years ago. Julie was the product of that brief, but doomed encounter. Julie’s mum had died when Julie was in her teens. Frank, without revealing himself to her, had supported her as much as he could and when she was turfed out onto the street he continued his support. At some point he was going to have to tell Julie and Greg they were half siblings.

As Mellie looked through Rose’s wardrobe her sense of what to wear began to crystallize. She was going to have fun at the rehearsal. On the weekend she planned to tone her appearance down as she wanted to know what people thought of her music not her body. She chose two outfits for the rehearsal, both tight fitting and long one with straps and the other without. The one with straps was black and the strapless dress was red. 

“That should keep them attentive,” she said to the rack of clothes. 

For now she was going to relax and went back to the kitchen area where Greg was preparing something for dinner. 

“What are you cooking up?” she asked.

“Ah, well, I have started a bit of rice and thought a slab of fish on it with a sauce over top and some salady things would work, but haven’t really got beyond putting the rice on to cook. I got side tracked into reading my dad’s proposal.”

“I can do some of the preparations if you want to keep reading,” Mellie said.

“Thank you. You know where everything is located by now, but if there is something you can’t find just shout. I am going to sit in the alcove.”

Mellie worked away for the next half hour preparing a bechamel with a touch of lemon, chives and parsley. The salad was a combination of produce from the farm including lettuce, cucumber, peas, tomato and Pak Choy with a sprinkle of spinach and kale. All done she set their plates at one corner of the trestle table and went to find Greg who had fallen asleep. Mellie did not know if she should wake him or not and then thought the dinner would be better now rather than warmed up later.  

She touched his shoulder and said, “Dinner is served.” 

An eye popped open, then the other one and Greg seemed to take in his surroundings before acknowledging Mellie and what she had said.

“Good, I should have saved dad’s proposal for bedtime reading I guess. Maybe it will work twice if I save it for tonight,” Greg said.

“Are you having difficulty with it?”

“Yes, Dad’s expertise is in the kitchen not on a computer. I have a lot of reading between the lines to make sense of it, but that is OK. I’ll sit down with him and go over it and I am sure from what I have read his proposal will work. Certainly it will be a unique experience for customers.”

“How so?”

“He wants to hire street people in the kitchen and as servers and I heartily concur.”

“Yes, that would be different, but then why should patrons know about the hiring policy? And if they do find out, so what,” said Mellie.

“Good point, let’s eat. What time is it? Are you ready for the rehearsal? Did you find anything in Rose’s collection?”

“Five-thirty, yes and yes and I am going to shock the band, for tonight anyway. On the weekend I think I will be dressing down to let the music take centre stage.”

“Sounds calculated.”

“A bit, I just don’t want a dress to get in the way of some really great music. I hope I can do justice to it and I would like a response to my musical interpretation and presentation, not how I look in a dress.”

“Indeed, you have thought about it.”

“I suppose, yes. Come the food is chilling.”

They ate and chatted more and as they were finishing Greg had a really warm sensation all over. He had just spent another very pleasurable half hour with Mellie over the dinner she had prepared. He thought, I will miss this girl when she has gone.

Greg said he would clean up if Mellie wanted to get ready for the rehearsal. Once ready he suggested they could go into the pub and she could get comfortable in the space. Just as Greg was finishing cleaning the dishes Mellie appeared looking very elegant and barefoot in the low cut black dress. 

“Wow, you are going to put everyone off their music in that attire. I think your earlier comments make sense to me now. If the music is the important thing, then avoid distractions. In that get up you would certainly be a distraction.”

“I am glad you think so. Ah, what I mean is I am glad you agree with me about dressing down in favour of the music and I am also pleased you think I would be a distraction. Always nice to be told one is attractive.”

“Yes, you certainly are attractive and I don’t remember Rose looking so good in that dress. In fact I am not sure I ever saw her wear it. She did go to events I could not attend so maybe she wore it when I was not around. Don’t know. Funny, I feel like putting on some slow music and asking you for a dance.”

“I’d be delighted to dance with you sir.”

“Well, mademoiselle, how about a little Neil Diamond?”

“I am all yours, for a few minutes anyway.”

“Ah, but a few minutes will stretch into hours and days of memory,” he said.

And so for a few minutes they slowly turned together around the apartment to the sound of Neil Diamond singing Crackling Rose. They fit together well and both knew it and felt it and then the music was over way before it should have been and they held on for a bit continuing to turn and then Greg, breaking the spell, suggested Mellie needed to go into the pub and wow the band. With both hands she roughed up her cascade of curls and declared she was ready. She slipped her arm into his and they walked through the back hallway into the pub where the band was setting up and where a small group of people had assembled, people she instantly recognized from the past weekend. 

To Greg she said, “What are these people doing here?”

“I took the liberty of asking in a small audience. Thought you might benefit from something a little more realistic and also wanted to see what people looked like in the pub. Two birds with one stone.”

“Don’t you think this might be a bit torturous for them and the music. I expect we will be back and forth and all over the place until the band is satisfied, not easy listening.”

“I did clear it with the Mechanic. He thought it could be a good idea.”

“Ok, I’m game. I suppose I should now busy myself with the band and at least begin to show them I am not a complete rookie. Thank you for the dance and the escort service.”

“My pleasure, mademoiselle,” said Greg.

Mellie went on stage to the band, was introduced around and started to familiarize herself with their equipment, her positioning on stage and really just trying to get a feel for the space. Greg went to the assembled weekenders, welcomed them, invited them to feel at home and make use of the facilities and indicated while he could not serve food or drink yet, there was nothing stopping them ordering in food whenever the hunger pangs demanded satisfaction and he had provided beer and nibbles from his private reserve if anyone was so inclined.  

In short order the band was ready to go, Greg turned on some stage lights and the rehearsal was underway.

Over the course of the next three hours the band worked hard to accommodate Mellie, making changes from suggestions coming from all the band members and Mellie too as she became more and more comfortable in her role. 

The small assembled audience responded enthusiastically, a genuine response to some really beautiful interpretations of the classics the band would play on the weekend. 

By the end Mellie was exhausted and flopped down in a chair near the stage and mindlessly picked away at a pepperoni and cheese slice of pizza. Through the rehearsal she had worked her way through two litres of water and now cradled a beer along with everyone else. She was satisfied. The weekend would be good, she and the band had come up with some really good renditions. 

All the weekenders and their guests complimented the band and then it was time for them to go. 

Greg was pleased with the first trial event in the pub. He invited his dad Julie and Mike to stay over in the apartment. Everyone seemed to pitch in cleaning up and soon the Chandelier was empty and Greg scanning his creation with satisfaction, turned off the lights. With the lights off he turned to return to the apartment along the hallway and saw Mellie backlit from the hallway light waiting for him. 

“You should be in bed. We have a long day ahead tomorrow and we start early. Got to be away by six,” he said.

“I am restless. Funny how one puts a lot into something and then the buzz takes a while to calm down. Can’t sleep until it does,” she replied.

“Well, you can catch some winks in the car ride if you want. For me I need the pillow now.”  

As Greg said that he put his arm around Mellie’s shoulder, turned her to face toward the apartment and guided her back along the hallway. 

“That was really lovely. I think you fit well with the band and their style of music. The concert should be a success. Now off you go and I will knock you up early,” Greg said.

She almost replied, “Why not now?” but, left the words unspoken slipped away from under Greg’s arm and headed toward her room with a little wave. Greg watched her go.

Chapter 11

Greg was up and making some breakfast by 5 am and true to his word knocked on Mellie’s bedroom door and left a coffee on a little table just inside thinking this should get her moving. He had to repeat knocking on her door half-an-hour later, stuck his head around the door and said “Get up get up we go in half-an-hour. Are you awake? There is coffee here for you and the shower is hot if you want one. There is something to eat in the kitchen. Come on Mellie, rise and shine, it is going to be a beautiful day. Are you awake?”

“Mmmmm, I will be,” she replied unconvincingly.

“Good, we have to pick Sarah up also, so get yourself in gear.” 

With that done Greg returned to the kitchen to have his breakfast, a coffee and to relax for twenty minutes. Mellie soon appeared on the balcony wearing nothing, but carrying some clothes. She headed directly to the shower and was sitting with Greg ten minutes later cradling her coffee and nibbling at the food prepared for her.

“Why is Sarah coming along to wherever or whatever we are going to?” she asked.

“This project you are going to visit surprisingly has not had a great deal of media coverage. I think it is time for that to happen and I thought Sarah might like an exclusive so to speak. She can do it freelance and maybe make a little off her article as well as give the project some public exposure.”

“Tell me more.”

“I will, but not until we are under way. Don’t want to repeat myself. So we are out the door in five minutes.” 

With that declared Greg rose went to his office to collect what he needed for the day and returned to the main door to find Mellie waiting for him. 

“You can be quick when you want to be.”

“I guess.”

They descended to the garage and getting into the pickup Mellie asked, “Is this old girl going to get us there?”

“Yup, she is running like a top just now, but we won’t be winning any races along the way. Steady as she goes.”

They were around at Sarah’s apartment in about ten minutes to find her waiting on the bench in front of the paper. 

“I was about to curl up and go back to sleep,” she teased. 

“Hop in and you two can sleep while I drive.”

“No, no,” chirped Mellie, “I want to hear a bit about this mysterious project and you promised,” she said in her little girl voice.

“So I did. Sarah knows a little more than you because I had to convince her to come along. You did not have a choice. Don’t know what it is about getting up early. We seem to sleep late and then miss the best part of the day.”

“Ya ya, ho hum, you sound like someone’s dad,” teased Mellie.

“Really? Well, well and I’ve never had any practice. Just comes naturally I guess or maybe I learned from shepherding students through their studies.”

Sarah slipped in beside Mellie and to give her enough room Mellie had to shift left a bit finding herself up against Greg, maybe positioning herself a little more closely than required for Sarah to be comfortable. 

“About seven years ago a student took one of my urban design courses. He was an average student, interested as I remember, but not desperately. Anyway he graduated and went on to work in retail and apparently learned to loath the work. I’ll let him tell you more if he wants to. He was still living at home, wanted out of retail and as he has told me, he remembered a series of lectures and little projects we did  about alternative ways of organizing urban neighbourhoods to be more productive and liveable. Four years ago he returned for a visit, a coffee and a chat recollecting those projects and asking for my help to get something going where he was living with his parents. Today you will be witness to a four year long pilot project that has accomplished remarkable achievements. I do not want to say a heck of a lot more just now. Rather, I want you to discover for yourself the achievements. When we get there, Sarah, you will be paired up with Charles, my previous student and Mellie, I’ve got you going with Ingrid, she is the project manager. Later on you can switch or talk with whoever you want.”

“Can’t you say a little about the actual project?” asked Mellie.

“No, I think the best way is for you to discover.” 

Greg then slipped a disk in containing a compilation of his favourite artists and their music. Both girls relaxed into the bench seat, Sarah leaning out against the door and Mellie comfortably leaning in the opposite direction up against Greg. For his part Greg just drove enjoying the early morning, thinking nothing in particular, although from time to time when they were passing through or along side road works, he did wonder when all this road widening would be halted and instead have emphasis put onto building a comprehensive rail network. If “U” turning was going to be necessary, and he thought it would be, then he figured government and the private sector had only a few years to get their act together before real problems surfaced. He was not optimistic given historical development schedules, taking years and even decades in some cases.

They arrived in the city an hour later, but rather than going directly to the project Greg drove along some residential streets for half-an-hour explaining to the girls he wanted them to get a sense of the normal patterns of the residential streets. 

They were well treed and arranged in a grid pattern. There was a mix of older and obviously newer houses for the most sitting on lots twenty-five to thirty-five feet wide. Virtually all the older houses were two storeys with some veranda arrangement. Some of the newer houses sported a third floor. Most properties were paired with a shared drive. Some of the newer houses had sunken garages occupying part of the basement arrangement. Virtually all the houses were oriented with front access facing the street. Some front lawns still existed but many had been altered to accommodate parking or some unusual landscaping. Cars were parked both on drives and the streets. Very few people were seen. 

Greg then declared, “Now, for something completely different.” 

He turned a corner into what should have been a normal residential street, but now was a green angled parking area. 

“We are here. Hope you enjoy the day.” 

Directly in front of them was a green and yellow sign with bold letters declaring FEED the BLOCK and in smaller letters below, Parking 1.

They got out of the pickup. Greg lead them toward the sign and that is when Sarah realized it was a three sided sign. One side was in fact a map of the project area and the third side seemed to be a sort of bulletin board. They continued on aiming it seemed for a metal clad structure located, Mellie thought, in what would have been the middle of the street. There was a drive up one side of the building and out in front a picnic table with other chairs scattered around a rock mound with plants growing among the rocks, some in flower and some just displaying their green foliage. Angle parked just off the drive were two golf carts one with a small flat bed box for carrying stuff.

Greg, without a word, led them to the door, with a sign above declaring, “Office”. He held the door as the two girls entered finding themselves in a well lit space, lit by roof and vertical wall windows. There was a low round table with six assorted chairs encircling and a man and women in conversation. 

As they entered the two people stopped their conversation. 

The woman rose and declared, “Welcome, come in, I am Ingrid and this is Charles.”

The two girls introduced themselves and then Greg moved around them to give Ingrid a big hug and a handshake and hug for Charles.

Ingrid then asked, “Was your drive in OK? Would you like a coffee?”

Greg replied affirmatively to the coffee and indicated the drive was tolerable, but a little cramped at the same time giving Mellie a side look and rubbing his shoulder for emphasis.

She replied, “Oh I’ll just sit in the back then on our return. Don’t want to have you damaged.”

“Mmm, we’ll see. Maybe you could just sleep under the box cover.”

With coffees in hand they all sat around the table.  

Ingrid then asked in her slightly Swedish accent, “So, what has this crotchety old man told you about our project?”

Mellie blurted out, “Not much. He has been very tight lipped telling us we need to discover for ourselves.” 

Greg just smiled.

“Yes, exactly what I expected. Sometimes he is very short on explanations.” 

Greg just smiled.

“Well, then, how do you want to proceed? We can be with you as long as you have the energy to keep on discovering,” Ingrid offered.

Sarah then said, ”I would like an overview of the project. I can get details through the day, but for now a brief history of the project and a quick summary of what has been accomplished would be very helpful. Kind of setting out a context.”

“Fine, you must be the journalist,” Ingrid guessed. 

Sarah nodded in reply.

“Charles, do you want to give them your side of the story up until I came on board, and then I can give a quick description of what we have achieved over the past two years and then we can go together or split up and tour about.”

“That sounds great,” replied Sarah.

“If you will excuse me, I will leave you four to chat and tour about. I am scheduled to be at the board meeting ten minutes ago. I’ll catch up with you later. See you.”  

Greg, rather than going out the door they came in, went instead around a short counter and out a rear door.

“Right, so with grand dad out of the way we can do a bit of exploring and have a bit of fun in the process. Charles?”

“Right then. I should be at the board meeting too, but sometimes it is more important to spread the gospel. They will not miss me.” 

As Charles spoke Sarah took notes on top of recording him. Mellie just relaxed and listened intently to his very brief account of the project’s beginnings and early days.

“A bunch of years ago now, seven or eight, I sat in on one of Greg’s courses. At the time it was OK, but nothing special. It must have been better than I thought at the time because what he was saying stayed with me. I then started a career in retail, following my parents as I did not know what else to do and I already had some experience from summer jobs. Just slipped into it I guess. It did not take me long to realize retail for a career of forty years was not going to happen. I hated it, but I persevered for a couple of years. 

Now, going back further, when I was growing up one of the households a couple houses away from us kept a garden. By the end of July and through August each year one could see the plants reaching up above the top of the fence. It always made me feel good to see. Fast forward to when I returned to the family house and was forcing myself to continue in retail, I began to reflect on the image I had retained in my mind of the lush garden. I don’t know exactly when it happened, maybe in a dream or from an article I read or maybe Greg’s words of wisdom finally sunk in, but I started to think about urban agriculture. Now I knew it was happening in other cities around the world, but there weren’t good examples here. I started to look around maybe for the first time in my life, at the place I grew up in and the light bulb was turned on. I asked myself the question, “What is stopping us in this block of houses from getting a farm going?” In the end my answer was a lack of motivation and examples to work from. That is when I remembered Greg and then enlisted his help. He was willing and enthusiastically got involved and still remains a huge help for us. I invited him to come and talk to us. We organized a block BBQ. About one quarter of the households were there and apart from his presentation the BBQ was a good idea and success. Essentially Greg’s message was we would be limited in what we achieved only by our limitations in thinking up alternative ways of organizing the block. He told us urban agriculture was certainly doable and there was much more that could also be accomplished. We listened and learned and some of us were immediately motivated. Two of our adjacent neighbours agreed to take down fences and combine in an effort to see what we could accomplish. The rest is history.”

“Oh, I have a ton of questions,” responded Sarah. “Where to start? Actually, what I would like to do is visit the first three properties and go from there so I can get a sense of the chronology. Then maybe I can have you Ingrid for a while to get an explanation, description of what you have accomplished in the past two years.”

“I think I would just like to wander through your project, a sort of guided tour,” said Mellie. “Could we split up for a bit and then meet somewhere so Sarah can then pick your mind Ingrid?”

“I think so. What do you say Charles, meet at the Round in a couple of hours? That should be enough time for you to provide the potted history and show Sarah around. Then if she wants to talk project management and where we go from here I am more than happy to oblige.”

“Ok by me, come on Sarah and I’ll show you where I grew up and try to describe the changes that have occurred over four years.”

“How would you like to proceed Mellie?” Ingrid asked.

“Well, this seems to be as good a place as any to start. Maybe we could just walk and sit and I can ask questions and you can give me explanations. I am not recording nor will I be writing anything, so if you don’t feel you can give me a great deal of your time, that is fine.”

“Not a problem as on our amble I can check up on a few things and make sure current work is being done as agreed. So, lets just go back out the front door and start.”

As Sarah and Charles walked Sarah began with the questions and Charles privately thought, this could be a long day.

“What was it like growing up in this neighbourhood?”

“Did Greg drive along some of the neighbouring streets?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, you know more or less what the area looks like. I would say it was a typical childhood for the 80’s and 90’s. We grew up, went to school had friends in a somewhat sheltered existence. Over the years the mix of people and cultural backgrounds has changed. More multi-cultural now and I consider that a good thing and I believe it is a better reflection of our national image and existence. We are not and never have been a monolithic cultural enclave. It has meant the variety of interests and practices has broadened. I think it is much more interesting here now than when I was growing up.”

“So lots of routine, some but not a lot of variation and a sort of blinkered outlook on life?” suggested Sarah.

“I suppose you could describe it as being something like that. There were other cultural backgrounds in the area for sure, but my family seemed to just stick to itself for the most part. Us kids knew about other families and something about the way they lived, but my parents, at least, kept to themselves and as far as I know did not have a wide circle of friends anywhere, let alone in the neighbourhood. It is different for them now. Here we are. This is the house I grew up in. Still here. Don’t know what that says about me. My parents are here too, but now their lives are very different. So, imagine this bit we are standing on as a typical street, much like any of the ones Greg drove you along.”

“Ok, I can do that, but it is clear lots has changed,” Sarah remarked.

“A couple of years ago we learned our street was due for a repaving, new sidewalks and some underground service work. Our project was well underway by then and one of the owners suggested a different solution for the roadway, green paving. In short he explained the concept, we, including Greg who advocated on our behalf, took the idea to the city and after lengthy discussions with the city and the neighbours it was agreed to use our street as a pilot project. Indeed, that is when our project in total became a pilot project agreed to by the city. If that had not happened, much of what we have accomplished since would likely have been prohibited. So, credit to the city for deciding to learn from what we have been doing and I must say they have been for the most part very supportive as long as there was local consensus.”

“Can you describe exactly what happened, the changes, around your house, then till now?” asked Sarah.

“It was a typical house with a shared drive and a garage in the back. The backyard was fenced and there was an assortment of not very attractive bushes and shrubs that had migrated in over the years. The grass was cut and periodically the windows were painted. It was a house on a narrow urban lot that was not intensively used. Cutting grass was probably the activity occurring most often and then we hardly sat out on the grass. When I was young I guess it was a safe place for me to run around, but that was all. Since the project started the fencing, the garage, the random assortment of bushes have all gone. An enormous amount of work has gone into re-landscaping, making sense of it all and making the land available to be productive again, in a variety of different ways. I bought the house from my parents, they get to live here and now you could not get them to move out.”

“And these changes were happening all through the block?”

“Yes, variations on a theme, but essentially yes, change was afoot. I should clarify our start a bit more. In fact there were about eleven properties where change had already been started or where the residents wanted to do something and they needed a nudge. We have made mistakes and learned from them. For example, we started with all the households doing their own garden. We quickly realized much more could be achieved by sharing land and effort. One very big garden it was decided could work with shared labour. Come, lets go out the back and you can have a look to see the transformation. As we go I will mention these drives between homes are currently on our list of “What to do with it”. They are becoming redundant as drives, but haven’t figured out alternative uses yet and together they represent a significant amount of land.” 

“So, for our block this is the new back which is rapidly becoming the front. It seems a flip flop is occurring so the front is becoming the back and the back the front. Now if you can imagine fences, garages, paved drives and grassy backyards. Some still exist in our block, but most have been transformed. We can now walk from end to end inside our block. It really is an exciting achievement.” 

“I should add one of the really neat outcomes, apart from meeting neighbours, is finding out the different skill sets. So, people who don’t want to garden are perfectly happy to design and build garden furniture. The variety of human resources is wonderful. A branching affect seems to be people are creating small businesses as the block is beginning to function as an incubator.”

“Am I correct to say this project is primarily about urban agriculture?” Sarah asked.

“You know, if you had asked me that question four years ago I most definitely would have said, ‘yes’. Even now most of our work involves growing food. I’m not so sure about ten years from now and I think that is what is so intriguing about this project and others to follow. As more blocks get their acts together I think it is inevitable trading will commence. Remember we are dealing with people, skill sets and passions. Their inclinations could go in any direction. Lets go this way.”

“I can see the transformation has been significant. Just from here alone I can see six good sized garden plots. Who does the work and are they paid?” Sarah asked.

“In our block there are eighty households. Not everyone works and some work on shifts or from home. Let’s just say there is collectively a good deal of ‘free time’. If you add in the time students have after classes, on weekends and through the summer, it is significant. There is no shortage of labour and yes for work done they receive food vouchers. In fact one of our current initiatives is to work out the best methods for a block currency.”

“How would it work?”

“We have not agreed on the details yet, but essentially people would be paid in the block currency and then they could buy produce or services from other residents.” 

“How many acres are in this block and what kind of produce, crops, do you grow?”

“You name it and we probably grow it. In total our block is close to ten acres, twenty acres if we include the adjacent block as they are deciding to join in with our project, but obviously not all is available for food production. As we walk around you will begin to get a sense of the variety of food we produce. While I think of it after the first year everyone decided to join together in production so we could concentrate food types and get some kind of rotation going. It was fine but a bit unreliable for volunteers. We did have surplus and we did sell it and realized there was some profit to be made to bring back into the project. What we needed was stable management, coordination of effort and planning. Some of those involved cautioned about burnout, so we looked around and found Ingrid. For two years she has been holding the project together.”

“While I think of it, where did the project name come from?” Sarah asked.

“Feed the Block is Greg’s idea or at least he is the one we first heard it from. Whether he picked it up from somewhere else I do not know.”

“Can you describe how the block is organized in terms of land use or should I ask Ingrid that question?”

“Oh I think you should ask her, but I can say a bit about it too. It is interesting how residential development, any development I suppose, masks the landscape. We impose structure upon it and lose an overall sense of elevation, slope, drainage, wet and dry areas and plant life let alone animal life. It is lost to the bricks and paving. 

Once the fences started to come down and we began to walk the block we started to discover the terrain underneath. It really was an exciting and fun time. We started plotting and then mapping our block and we began to realize there was a natural drainage swale running down the middle of the backyards. Eventually it empties into the river a kilometre away. We decided then to make the swale into a no go corridor and gave it a five meter wide channel of space for wild things to collect. The corridor is just over here. In doing so we realized it would split the block in two and as part of our intent was to make the space available to everyone in the project, we put in five crossing points as part of our path system. We also did soil tests and discovered the soils were generally acceptable, but not great and that they were not uniform in composition. Over time we knew people had used herbicides and pesticides, so we plotted those locations also. We then took our map and started to plot the locations where we would cultivate and begin to grow stuff. So all the initial testing and mapping was fun, informative and as it turned out extremely important for the work Ingrid has done in years three and four. I will make sure you have a map of our block and land use.”

“I have a lot of information so maybe we can just walk for a bit, you can point things out and If I have a question burning away in my head, I’ll ask.”

“Ok, lets go this way and I will introduce you to Buffy and her daughter Joni,” suggested Charles.

Mellie took to Ingrid right away. She was her kind of women, strong, nice, well informed, comfortable to be with. 

From the metal building they walked along a path leading them between houses into what Mellie thought would have been backyards. It was a meandering path, about four feet wide and surfaced with some kind of cinder material. Along both edges of the path another two feet were mown. Beyond those edges Mellie could see the land was divided into plots for a variety of growing and storage uses. 

They headed along the path toward a plastic tunnel or as she had heard it called by others, a hoop house. As they walked the fragrances became noticeable and were powerful. Ingrid lead them into the tunnel where she introduced Mellie to George, a seventies something and to Eva, a twenty something. 

Ingrid indicated they were germinating seed for fall crops, brassicas mostly. Mellie then saw at the end of the table a sleeping young baby in a stroller. 

Looking at Eva she asked, “How old is your baby?” 

Eva replied, “She is about three months now, but George here is responsible for the little guy.” 

Mellie glanced toward George for an explanation. 

“He is my son and daughter in law’s child. I take him out for strolls and do a bit of gardening work if I can. Gets me and him out and gives mum a break. Do it most days.”

Mellie then scanned the interior of the hoop house to see cucumbers and runner beans in profusion. Very definitely this was a good crop. 

“How many people do you feed from this project?” she asked Ingrid. 

“There are about seventy of eighty households participating in one way or another. We have worked out a method of allocating food quantities for land availability and work done. So far there has been a surplus in some foods which we then sell on weekends at the metal office. It is working well and very little just now is wasted as we also have a few animals to clean up anything not suitable for people. The animal compost then goes back on the land. As you gather from that we have implemented recycling of food and organic matter to grow more food.”

“A real farm?” Mellie said.

“You bet. Come on lots more to see.” 

Ingrid lead the way to the other end of the hoop house, out the door and pointed out to Mellie their composting arrangement. She then said they had four composting locations in the block to which people could bring their kitchen waste. 

“We turn it regularly. It is surprising just how much compost we are able to return to the soil.”

As Mellie looked around she realized they had gone through a transition, over a threshold of sorts into another growing area. Ingrid told her this area in part would be a more permanent area for growing a variety of soft fruits. She indicated the soil was really suitable for soft fruits and she was trying to break up the pattern a bit into smaller blocks. She said there was another soft fruit area at the other end of the block.

Ingrid lead her through some of the plots and Mellie recognized currents, raspberries and gooseberries along with a good sized strawberry bed. They were heading toward other small wooden structures, but to get there had to cross over a bit of pasture in which a cow and presumably her calf were busy grazing. 

“This is Buffy and Joni. A bit extravagant maybe, but useful for manure and rotation. In another two years this land will be used for growing vegetables and these two will be re-pastured on what is now the veggie plot. Over there in that arrangement of little buildings we have laying hens that we move on to the pasture also and a couple of pigs , very useful for cleaning up old plants and turning ground. We have to import some of their food for sure, but so far the costs are not exorbitant and it is well worth it even if just for enjoyment and education. Our children love working with the animals. Let’s go this way, I want to show you some of our herb beds, the hanging garden and our start on urban forestry.”

“Is there anything you are not trying to do?” Mellie asked.

“Rooftop gardens, not yet at least,” Ingrid replied.

As they walked Mellie noticed there were solar electric panels strung out in a line that seemed to go on for quite a distance. Ingrid told her they had got into collecting solar power and selling it back to the grid. It was turning out to be a bit of a money generator that was paying for other equipment and materials. 

“So far so good,” said Ingrid.

They passed between two houses walking along what would have been an old shared drive. It now sported a plastic cover with a few tables and chairs scattered around. 

Ingrid told Mellie, “This is our local pub and one of three food distribution hubs.”

They continued on toward what would have been the fronts of houses into a maze of narrow and twisting paths with herbs and flowers growing along side. The fragrance was wonderful and the selection of herbs amazing. The plot extended across the fronts of three houses and was boxed in by a low hedge. There was even a little fountain nestled in the middle of the garden. At the far end to where they stood a man was gently hoeing in one of the beds. 

“Come and meet Stephan, the creator of this wonderful garden.” 

As they moved toward Stephan Mellie bent over at a few of the plants and snipped off leaves to get a taste. Mint, chives, oregano and parsley were just four of numerous varieties, some she knew and others she did not.

“Hi there Stephan, this is Mellie come to visit us.” Ingrid said.

“Welcome to my little paradise. What do you think?” asked Stephan

“I love it. I want to take it home with me,” Mellie responded.

“Well, couldn’t be a better compliment I suppose. Thanks. Where’s home?” he asked.

“Out East. That is where I grew up. I am going back there in a week,” Mellie said.

“Stephan is a chef and enjoys the use of herbs in his creations and wanted to establish this garden. So, some of it he uses and the remainder is distributed in the block or sold as surplus.”

“I am very impressed. This really is wonderful,” Mellie said.

Ingrid then got Mellie to follow along into the tree nursery. The old front lawn spaces turned out to be a good size for incubating seedlings. She said they had plans for tree planting in the block, the tree nursery would supply their needs and the small surplus could again be sold. Currently they were nursing six different tree types and had plans to introduce fruit trees into the mix.

She then lead Mellie further along to the hanging flower garden, a veritable profusion of colour and odour hanging about on a variety of structures and included a small plastic tunnel for some of the more vulnerable plants, those more suited to indoor locations. 

“I really enjoy walking along this stretch of garden from the herbs to the flowers. It seems to have a calming influence for me and then I am quite happy to return to whatever tasks I am involved with at the time.”

“Yes, I can see how it would do just that,” agreed Mellie.

“Now, I think we need to double back a bit to meet up with Charles and Sarah at The Round. We can go this way back between these two houses and make our way over there.” 

They followed a path and as they emerged on the other side of the homes they continued on the path leading them between solar panels and into a rock, grass and shrub arrangement with a wooden structure at the centre, ‘The Round’. Sarah and Charles were already there sitting on one of the benches chatting away. 

“We were beginning to think you were lost,” teased Charles. 

“No, just took the long way,” replied Ingrid. “So, Sarah what do you think? Has Charles filled your notebook with enough anecdote and trivia?” 

“Oh yes, and what a wonderful place you have been creating. I am very impressed. It will be difficult to figure out what to leave out of an article. Even though I have lots, I would still like to get some comment from you.”

“That’s fine, maybe we could return to the metal shack on a route you did not take and then yes I could answer your questions.”

“What about you Mellie? Do you want to continue the tour with my perspective?” asked Charles.

“You know I don’t want to snub you, but if you don’t mind I would like to wander by myself. I know where the metal shack is located. I think wandering along to the other end of the block will give me a more complete picture of your efforts even without running commentary. I would just like to suck it all in without any explanatory distractions. Then you can also get back to whatever work you need to get back to.”

“Well, that is fine if you are sure. Up that way is our meeting room, so you might run into Greg and the others as their meeting is probably over or shortly over and some of them quite often retire to the pub before going off to the rest of their lives,” Charles informed her.

“I’ll keep a lookout for them. By the way, I am curious as to why there are not more people around,” asked Mellie.

“During the day, during the week, some people have day jobs and some of the children I believe are on an outing. Can’t remember what. Others are beavering away in areas you did not walk through. In the evening everyone comes out of the woodwork so to speak. So you should be able to enjoy a quiet stroll,” Charles concluded.

Mellie nodded in understanding, rose and started a slow crawl walk to the West end of the block. Sarah, Charles and Ingrid started off toward the metal shack. Mellie hoped she would find Greg. 

The West end of the block seemed to be less altered even though there were garden plots scattered about. It was just not as intensively used as the East end and more trees, some quite big, dotted the landscape. She was reminded of Capability Brown landscapes, sort of in miniature and then remembered Ingrid’s comment about rotation and thought this area could be used more intensively in the coming years. 

She passed a small pond with lily pads and frogs. She walked through a small cedar grove and approved of a new dry stone wall partially built as an edge to the path. She sat on a bench, closed her eyes and soaked in the sun’s warmth. She then felt some movement on the bench, opened her eyes to see a smiling Greg as if in a dream come true.

“Well, then, what do you think?” he asked.

“For the moment I am almost speechless. I was not expecting anything like this, an urban oasis. You must be quite pleased with what has been accomplished?” Mellie said.

“Yes, to say the least and the plans into the future are even more exciting, for me anyway.”

“How so?” she asked.

“Well, the block is extending into two blocks, maybe three. The city is on board and in a few years time we are going to witness this little enclave of urbanity transform into a rural/urban village complete with additional housing and an opportunity for small retail and manufacturing. It is all very exciting for me and I am pleased to have had a hand in helping it come into being, as an example of what can be done if we open our minds. That is why I wanted Sarah to get involved. It is time this project got some publicity.” 

“Deservedly so,” said Mellie.

“So, mademoiselle, would you care to continue your stroll with an old guy or do you want to just soak up more sun?”

“Oh, sir, thank you for asking and yes I would enjoy strolling with you.”

“Good, we can make our way over to the pub where you can meet some of the other people involved in the planning and policy of this great experiment.”

Greg and Mellie rose, Mellie slipped her arm through Greg’s and they walked  slowly in unison of step back the way Mellie had come, to The Round and further along to the pub. About six people were there assembled and Greg dutifully introduced Mellie to them all. 

“Welcome to Feed the Block. Maybe you can convince your friend here to stay for the evening, for the BBQ and concert afterward. He seems to want to go back to his farm paradise. There should be a good turnout. In fact as I understand the band is from over your way, jazz and blues and stuff like that,” said the project chair.

“Oh, and what is the name of the band?” Mellie asked politely and to continue the conversation.

“Fran, you know the name.”“I believe they are called, The Mechanics.”

Mellie slowly turned toward Greg who in turn smiled and shrugged his shoulders. She did not know what to say or do. 

Not wanting to sound stupid, but apparently already so positioned just for asking the question, she replied, “I will work on him.” 

Then to herself she decide in more ways than one. She then requested of Greg he get her a beer as she figured she might as well enjoy the rest of the day and evening.

“Lite, bitter, red, what is your pleasure?”

“I feel bitter coming on,” Mellie said.

“Coming up, right away, mademoiselle.”

Greg scurried away glad to remove himself even for a minute or two. 

Mellie then quizzed Fran asking, “So this was a last minute booking I suppose?”

Fran looked at Mellie sensing something wasn’t quite right.  

She said, “Well, yes it was. The previous booking cancelled at the last minute and I believe Greg was able to line up The Mechanics. How did you know? Had Greg already told you?”

“Why am I not surprised? No, I was completely in the dark and as far as staying, I can answer for him as we would be delighted to share with you your BBQ and the musical evening.”

That is a strange way of stating it, thought Fran. 

She said to Mellie in reply, “Wonderful, I will make sure you get a prime piece of sausage. Now you can enjoy a beer and a bit of relaxation, go for a walk, chat with people as they will be returning from work soon and will start to have a presence in or near The Round.”

“Thank you for your hospitality and look, here comes my bitter.” 

Mellie moved to another table and sat just as Greg reached the table with two pints. 

“I told Fran we would be delighted to stay.”

“Sounds good to me,” Greg replied.

“So, explain to me exactly what you had to do with this convenient cancelled booking and the arrangement for The Mechanics to play. I do not want to be in the dark anymore facing surprises that embarrass everyone. Am I supposed to be on stage with them? What is the deal? What about clothes?” Mellie asked.

“Thought you might benefit from another relaxed session with the band before your weekend concert. The Mechanics were for it. I just had to convince the other band to find another gig for tonight. The people here are fun to be with and they really appreciate good music.”

“Were they successful or did you pay a cancellation fee?”

“The latter,” Greg replied.

“Greg, why are you doing this, these manipulations?” 

“Is that what you think they are? Well, I’m just trying to help friends. I can tell you part of the story, but not all of it. The Mechanics had a singer, she was good and after fronting the band for a while decided she wanted to go on her own. I think on her own she thought she had a better chance to make it, so to speak.” 

“The Mechanics have been without a singer for a while now. When you were singing away at the piano with the Mechanic I thought maybe you and the band would be a good fit. I still think so and I told the Mechanic about your plans to go East, but at the same time encouraged him to offer you a gig at their weekend concert at the festival.” 

“The pub rehearsal was too good an opportunity to let pass for you and the band and for me and my dad to see how the pub could work. I also thought to ask the weekenders to give them a chance to reflect and to be an audience.” 

“Tonight came about, well, yes I suppose I did manipulate tonight. Before we came I was told there would be a BBQ and live music and was invited to stay for it. I then had the idea of trying to get The Mechanics and you another opportunity to play to a bigger audience outdoors as you will on the weekend. Just had to convince the other band to back out. I explained and they seemed willing provided they were paid. I agreed. Maybe it is manipulation, but I look at it as trying to help friends and I was in a position to do so. You did not find out till now because I did not know until after we split up this morning. Ya, I’m just an old guy helping where I can do so, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry, I should not have accused you of anything without knowing more. Just a little frustrated I didn’t know more. And what is the rest of the story?” Mellie asked.

“I don’t know and therefore I can’t tell you.”

“Some hints?”

“No nothing, you finished your beer?”

“I think so.”

“We could walk a bit more and I could explain some of the future plans and show you where and how more housing will be added. It is still early and the band won’t be here for another hour at least. We should also find Sarah and let her know what is happening.”

“I am with you, sir. Please, lead on.” 

They walked together, but separated, this time toward the front of the houses. Greg pointed out the adjacent block was going to make a decision in the next few weeks whether they would join the project. If they did he believed there would be opportunities to re-purpose and re-configure the old street corridor. 

He asked Mellie if she had noticed an absence of cars, especially within the boundary of the existing project. 

Yes, she had noticed, but did not really think any more about it. 

Greg responded by informing her a transition was in progress. Some people had given up their cars figuring they could rent if they had to. Public transit was not far away and the city had agreed to provide space for golf cart storage during the day near the transit. In the evening and on weekends more golf carts were to be seen in the project, but they did not take up a lot of room. 

Greg then directed her attention to two houses on what was the corner of the green road and the still paved main road and started to describe how they were to be transformed to increase density employing a design incorporating a courtyard arrangement. He said such arrangements had lots of potential and he was very excited to see how it would all work out. It was planned to be redeveloped starting in the September.

As they walked back toward the centre of the block, Greg mentioned how fortunate the project had been to find Ingrid. 

“She works very hard for the project and has all kinds of great ideas,” he said.

Then he explained his roll, in part anyway has been to convince the city it is all good and can work well. The residents of the block, he pointed out, have certainly had their eyes opened to other possibilities.

“Hey you two, I’m over here,” Sarah called from beside the plastic tunnel.

“So you are,” Greg called back. “We will be right over.”

As they walked toward Sarah, Mellie responded to what Greg had said. 

“She seems to be a very dedicated lady. Two years and they have achieved a great deal.”

“They certainly have, but it could not have happened without the residents getting wholly behind the project,” Greg said.

As they neared the tunnel Sarah asked, “How have you been getting on. I’ve had a wonderful time. These people are fabulous. I just hope I can write something appropriate suitably describing all they have achieved and the journey to get here.”

Mellie responded by saying she had also enjoyed her day and that it was not over as there was going to be a Feed the Block BBQ and then The Mechanics were coming to play and she apparently would be singing.

“Oh good, I am getting hungry and you can have another musical evening. That means we get home late, right?” Sarah said.

“Yes, it does mean just that,” replied Greg. “And seeing we are here you could do an article on the band, maybe?” suggested Greg.

“Oh, so much to do, but why not, yes, I could do that. I’ve still got room on my camera so I can get some pics too.”

“Clothes! I can’t perform like this,” Mellie said, just realizing her predicament.

“Well, yes you could, but if not I did bring the black dress, just in case,” Greg informed Mellie.

“Is there anything you have not thought of?” 

To that Greg just smiled and shrugged.

He then asked, “Shall we make our way to The Round and we can relax until things get under way?”

“Yes, I could do with a bit of lounging and a beer,” replied Sarah. “I am finished exploring.”

They turned toward The Round and Sarah and Mellie lead the way with Greg falling in behind.

The Round was buzzing for the BBQ and concert. Three quarters of the eighty households along with friends turned out. The evening was lovely with lingering daytime warmth being gently moved about in an early evening breeze, still very much t-shirt weather. Clouds were widely scattered and there was no hint of a summer thunderstorm.

There were three BBQs going full on and an open fire under a grand cast iron pot boiling up corn. Various designated households had also provided salad dishes and deserts. 

Midway through the feasting The Mechanics arrived. Charles helped them get their equipment to The Round using the golf cart with the rear box and also pulling a small trailer. It really was very efficient and no large vehicle needed to be driven into the core of the block. 

They were dutifully fed and then started to set up facing out toward the South where the apron in front of the stage was most expansive. Easily the hundred and fifty or so people on the grass, the stones and relaxing in their lawn chairs could be accommodated. The pub crowd also had a view to the staging platform and in short order The Mechanics were ready to go.

Mellie had decided she would not be comfortable singing in her daytime clothes and asked Greg where the dress was stashed. He volunteered to retrieve it and said she could change in the women’s restroom. 

While he was away getting the dress for Mellie, Fran came up to her asking if she had got her prime cut of sausage and if she was enjoying the evening. Mellie answered in the affirmative and realized Fran and the others did not yet realize she was the band’s singer even though she had been actively helping The Mechanics set up. Greg had said nothing. 

He returned with the dress flung over his shoulder and when he came up to Mellie brought it around to his front and handed her a black dress on a hanger covered in plastic film with the receipt for cleaning still attached. Mellie just shook her head folded it over her crossed arms and was about to go to the restroom to change. Fran watched the exchange and then directed a questioning look at Mellie. In response, Mellie suggested Fran should ask Greg for an explanation, turned and went to put the dress on.

Greg was short on details and eventually decided to keep Mellie’s part with The Mechanics secret, a surprise for those who had met her. No one would know until she stood on the stage. 

To Fran he eventually said, “Mellie has some work to do tonight,” leaving Fran even more puzzled than before. 

“I hope she is staying with us,” responded Fran. “I like that girl. Maybe I can get a chance to chat with her at greater length later on. What’s with the dress?” “Evening attire and I am sure she would enjoy the chat.” 

Greg did not add there would not be a lot of time this evening and she was not likely going to be back in the project soon, if ever. 

Mellie soon returned drawing glances from people she passed, especially the men, to where Greg and Fran stood and chatted, pushed her daytime clothes into Greg’s stomach, roughed up her curls, slipped out of her sandals and continued on to the stage where the band was warming up.

When they were satisfied with the sounds they were making, the balance and volume, The Mechanic took the mike and began the evening music session. 

“Good evening ladies, gentlemen and kids. Thank you so much for your hospitality and for inviting us to play our kind of music for you tonight. We are really pleased to be here and are quite impressed with what we have seen so far of your alternative urban living project. Congratulations on what you have achieved.” 

A brief round of applause ensued. 

“We hope you enjoy our brand of music. Feel free to dance if you are so inclined. So, guys lets get going, here we go,” and the band started with Mellie standing off to the side looking perfectly barefoot and elegant tapping a tambourine on her thigh in time with the music. 

Fran questioned Greg, “She is part of the band?” 

He replied, “Yup.”

Part way through the first number Mellie moved to centre stage took the mike the Mechanic had used and began. Greg watched the audience at this point rather than the band as he wanted to observe any obvious changes in their attention to what was coming from the stage. Two changes occurred immediately. People began turning toward the stage and the chat volume dropped significantly. As the band progressed through their music he expected the level of chat would return, but he also hoped the audience would collectively make a connection with the band almost as if they were part of the music. 

As the evening moved along he felt, yes, the band with Mellie and the audience were feeding off each other. With Mellie this band had stepped up a notch or two. 

In his quiet way, Greg was very pleased, found a chair by the pub and sat back to listen and enjoy the band and this wonderful girl who had moved into his life, however briefly it would prove to be. 

“One has to live and enjoy the moment,” he mumbled to himself.

Some food was still available, people were dancing, they were certainly listening and generally everyone seemed to be having a good time. At one point Sarah and Greg had a dance. Sarah was also ushered into the dance area by other men. She could not remember having a better summer evening and this whole project for her was, a revelation was not too strong a word.

Near to the end of the musical evening Mellie and the band played Cohen’s “Take This Waltz”. Mellie finished the lyrics and while the band was still playing and after a quick word with the Mechanic, ran off stage, found Greg and dragged him into the dance area. 

The Mechanics continued to play the song with the Mechanic picking up the vocal lead as Mellie and Greg danced. 

Then a curious thing happened. Those dancing gradually moved out of the area until Mellie and Greg were left alone as you might see for the Bride and Groom’s first dance at a wedding reception. The song ended and it was clear the applause was not only directed at the band, but also toward Mellie and Greg. 

Mellie then turned, hopped back on stage rejoining the band, where they played their last number, another Cohen gem, “Hallelujah”. 

They received a standing ovation for their efforts and a few calls for more, but, as a band they had no more to give. 

Then Mellie took the mike again and began “Amazing Grace” without accompaniment. Slowly the audience joined in and then it was over, some with tears in their eyes. 

Greg thought in his analytical way, it is interesting how music can be so emotional for people, myself included.

The downside of a high is the downside. Mellie and The Mechanics had to clean up their equipment and return it to their truck for the trip home. Mellie changed back into her day clothes. As she came out of the restroom Fran was there to greet her along with others who simply wanted to express their thanks for her efforts and for bringing such great music this evening to their project. 

Fran said when she had an opportunity, “Surprise, surprise, I did not know you were part of the band.” 

Mellie replied, “I did not know I was playing tonight. This is all Greg’s doing it appears so you will have to blame him.” 

They chatted a bit more and then Mellie excused herself to find Greg and organize for their trip home. She was exhausted, but warmly satisfied with the evening, the day, the dance with Greg. She slept all the way home leaning up against his side with Sarah sleeping in a lean against the door.

Greg dropped Sarah at the paper and her apartment. 

Mellie was more or less awake for the short distance back to his apartment, but climbing the stairs in a state of being half asleep was no fun. The night air chilled her and all she wanted was to curl up under the covers. She craved sleep. 

Greg moved slowly too bringing his stuff and the black dress up from the pickup to his office. He left the dress out and would organize to have it cleaned again the next day, well today as it was the wee hours of the morning when they finally returned.

He drifted into the kitchen and decided a hot milk or chocolate would go down just lovely. Wrapping his hands around the hot mug he went to sit in the alcove, closed his eyes, sipped the hot drink and just relaxed his body and mind. It had been a good day.

Chapter 12

He was only a little later getting up than normal. Going to the kitchen he found his dad busy preparing some food for breakfast. 

“So, you were very late getting back last night,” he observed.

“Ya, it was a long day, but a good one and The Mechanics were a hit. It is too bad Mellie won’t be staying to play on with them.”

“Are you sure?” Frank asked.

“About what?”

“Mellie.”

“As far as I know she leaves on Tuesday.” Greg said.

“Ah,” was all Frank could muster to Greg’s apparent blindness.

“Anyway they have a full weekend of playing together, so who knows, maybe she will agree to stay on with them if they ask,” said Greg.

“Maybe it is not The Mechanics who need to ask her to stay,” Frank suggested.

“Who then?”

“You.”

“Me, why me, I’m not part of the band? That is up to them,” Greg explained.

“Yes, of course, how stupid of me,” said Frank.

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Greg asked.

“You can be thick some times.”

“I’m not following.”

“Or, not choosing to follow.”

“Look. I don’t know what riddles you are weaving, but I do know Mellie has a mind of her own, she’s a big girl and can decide to stay or not if the band asks her to continue with them.”

“Right,” said Frank.

“Ask her about it,” Greg suggested.

“I have. She seems to be as thick as you.”

“Oh, drop it will ya,” and changing the subject, Greg then said, “I’ll grab a little time today and look at your proposal. I have quickly scanned through it, but now want to consider it in detail. On first blush I don’t see much to object to.”

Frank waved an arm with a spatula at its terminus and said, “Fine.”

Greg then grabbed some fruit and told his dad he had some garden work, principally watering, to do at the farm as not much rain had been falling lately. He figured, to himself, if he wanted more to eat he could get it at the farm and was thinking sitting on the patio with a coffee, the birds and a little Loreena McKennitt would be just fine. 

“I’ll probably be back around mid-day if anyone is looking for me.”

“Fine.” More spatula.

Greg turned went out of the kitchen, got his things and with a sigh left the apartment. His dad, he knew, just did not understand. 

Greg was becoming an old guy and sometimes felt it. Just now he wanted to function only, no heavy thinking, just one foot after the other, get to the farm and let the warmth of the morning bring him fully awake. Then, even though it would be a little late in the day, he would set his drip watering system going and do a bit of weeding.

Sarah also rose early as she had a ton of work to do and wanted to see her Editor before things got too busy. For the next few days she had lots to write, some back checking to do and a couple of phone interviews. About the same time Greg sat down in his chair at the farm to enjoy the morning as it passed in front of him, Sarah was looking out upon the slightly untidy area below her apartment balcony, relaxing with a coffee.

It did not take long for her mind to drift into memories of the previous day. 

“What a place, I could certainly live in something like that,” she said to her cup of coffee. She then added, “Mellie is really good, didn’t realize just how good.” 

Sarah continued to drift in and out of the previous day intermingled with the sound and presence of birds flitting about in the canopy in front of and above her.

Although the breeze was lovely, after a while she decided it was time to put something on and go to talk with her Editor. Deep down, although she was nervous about his reaction to her proposal, she knew he would go for it. 

In retrospect and upon reflection she now recognized his efforts to help her gain confidence and skills as a reporter/journalist. With her proposal she knew she was taking a big step forward and in her own mind was feeling more confident at identifying potential articles with place attachment. She felt she was beginning to get somewhere and maybe this backwater location would prove to be much better than she thought just a few days previous.

Mellie stayed in bed longer than she knew she should, but did so half hoping Greg would come to her room with a coffee. When it became obvious to her he was not going to do so, she reluctantly got up and headed for the shower. Frank, Julie and Mike were on the patio so she had her shower without being observed or disturbed. With her philosophers t-shirt on she then floated through the kitchen picking up a coffee as she went and proceeded along the hall out to the patio where she found the other three apartment dwellers. 

Frank teased, “You’re up late. Day’s almost over, the better part of it at least.”

“Morning all, long day yesterday. Guess it took more out of me than I thought it would. Where is Greg?”

“Off to the farm early. Said he had some watering to do,” Frank said.

“Ya, it was starting to look a little dried up two days ago. Thought he might knock me up to help.”

Julie, on hearing what Mellie said, almost choked on her coffee. Mike said nothing. 

“Ya, I had not heard the phrase before. It seems it refers to actually knocking on the door to wake someone up,” Mellie said.

“Exactly,” said Frank “although it does have an interesting double entendre.”

“When is he due back?” Mellie asked.

“He said mid-day or there about. I suppose it will depend on whether he gets side-tracked into something else or just decides to stay away for the day.”

“Would he do that?” Mellie asked.

Frank just shrugged.

“So, Julie, what do you think about the pub?” Mellie asked turning her attention away from Greg’s doings.

“Oh, I think it is grand, maybe a little over the top in chandeliers, but an interesting space just as a pub, but also for events. I like it,” Julie concluded.

“Ya, so do I,” Mellie agreed.

For the first time that morning, Mike said, “Yaaaa.”

“Well, then, I suppose we are all in agreement,” Frank summed. “When Greg returns we can tell him that and I have a bit of other news you all need to know, but it will have to wait for his return.”

“Sounds mysterious. Well, I am not going to have much time over the next couple of days, so I should do some laundry.” 

With that said, Mellie rose and returned to the kitchen and continued on to her room to collect some things for cleaning. She then planned to revisit Rose’s wardrobe to see if there was something else she could wear for one of the weekend concerts.

Frank and Julie returned to their conversation about how they would be organizing the management and operation of the pub. Julie took notes.

Greg finished his garden work by mid-day and then decided to go with Sally for a walk around the farm. He was not sure how much longer he was going to be able to keep it and keep up with the work. He loved the place for what it was, but also for the memories of his and Rose’s time together at the farm. He knew it would be difficult to finally decide it was too much for himself alone. Maybe with the pub and Frank involved they could organize for some of the staff to double as gardeners. Then produce from the farm could be available for the pub/restaurant. He did not remember anything in the proposal his dad had prepared along those lines and thought it would not be a big deal to add it in.

Greg and Sally walked the perimeter along the old fence lines and adjacent dry stone walls constructed by early inhabitants, those who cleared the land. He marvelled at their industriousness, clearing the land, setting it up as a farm and surviving the early years of meagre harvests.

Some of the land proved to be no good for agriculture and over the years had been allowed to go fallow returning to be young forest and wetland as it had been in post glacial times. Overall there was a fine mix of trees with some old white pines soaring up above the rest of the canopy. 

For a couple of years Greg had been aware of bald eagles nesting in the white pine, but there had been a decline in recent years, at least in the area of the farm although he had also heard the bird had made a sort of come back in some areas.

As they walked Sally was sticking her nose into every nook and cranny with any potential for small rodents or rabbits. Over the past days Greg had not been able to relax with Sally so she had been deprived of her walks and seemed to be making up for lost time.

They moved on to the back fence line bordering on a high tension power line complete with towers. Greg really did not enjoy coming back here as the contrast was too abrupt, nature coming up against bald technology. There was enough in town and at the farm he really did not want to see the juxtaposition. It was a short distance though across the width of the farm and in crossing they came to for Greg maybe the most interesting areas of rock outcrop punctuated by small streams and tiny falls of water. They followed this boundary over rock with moss and lichen and with stunted red cedar dotted around back toward the farm house and as they neared came upon the pool. The day had warmed and with the walk Greg felt a bit sweaty, stripped down and plunged into a welcome natural bath. Sally joined in briefly. Greg floated and crawled around for a short while and then thought it was getting on for time to go and face his apartment guests and put his counter proposal to his dad. He returned to the house, put on Queen, dried, dressed, had another bite to eat and was ready to return. He was not ready for nor did he expect anything like the revelation Frank would reveal.

Greg and Sally arrived back at the apartment, via the dry cleaners, to find his four apartment guests in different states of relaxation. He could not help but comment, with a big tongue in his cheek. 

“Fortunately some people get off their butts and go to work.”

For her part Mellie responded by saying, “There was no coffee cup beside my bed when I awoke and when I did get up my ride to the farm had disappeared. Instead I busied myself with a wonderfully boring job called laundry. By the way, I could not find the black dress. Thought I might use it again if that is OK.”

“What about music clarity?” Greg asked.

“The black dress does not seem to be getting in the way, maybe the opposite is happening,” Mellie offered.

Greg then took a package wrapped in film from under his arm, let it fall open and handed it to Mellie. 

She just looked at Greg in disbelief and said, “Again?” 

Greg shrugged again, a trait apparently common in father and son. 

“I hope it is OK as I was looking in Rose’s wardrobe to see what other choices might be suitable as I will need two dress options for the weekend. In the end I did not think the red dress was me, so I have selected something else. I’ve laid it out for you to see and give your OK.”

“I won’t be objecting. If you think it will work for you then by all means it is yours to wear.”

“Thanks and would the working man like a beer, foot massage, back rub, shoulder and neck massage?” teased Mellie.

“Oh, all of the above and all at once,” Greg replied.

“Well, before you two get too cozy, I would like to say something to Greg and Julie. Before I say what I have to say, I must say this will not be easy for me nor I suspect for you.” Greg, Julie and Mellie were all ears. 

Then Mellie asked, “Is this a family matter? Should I get lost?”

Frank replied, “Yes, I guess you could call it that but I also think you should stay. I may need protection. There is no easy way to say this and so I will say it as directly as I can. You two, Greg and Julie, you are siblings.”

There was silence. Greg just looked at Frank. Julie looked at both of them and glanced toward Mellie and finally Mike who said, “Yaaaa”.

Mellie understood immediately what Frank had said and in her mind declared, “Yes.” This confirmed for her what she had observed when Julie and Mike had come to the warehouse. She knew there was some sort of connection.

Finally Greg asked, “You mean we, Julie and I, have a common brother or sister?”

“No, I do not mean that. I mean you two are brother and sister to each other, well half brother and sister.”

Again silence for a short while as thoughts were being thrown around in otherwise empty spaces. 

“Dad, I am just over fifty and Julie, you are in your forties, right?” 

She nodded. 

“Dad, why the hell are you just telling us now with half our lives past? I accept what you have said as you could not lie about something like that. Fine, we are half siblings, but why now, why not fortyish years ago?”

Mellie saw Greg was upset, more so than Julie she thought and unless asked to leave she wanted to hear all the details and see what was to happen.

“It was complicated for me...”

Greg interrupted by saying, “What about us and our feelings, emotions, needs, desires? Do you know how many times I thought about having a brother or sister?” 

“Mmmm, I can imagine a few and I can remember you asking when you were little. Look I said this would not be easy and if you interrupt it will be even more difficult. Greg when your mother and I split and I chucked working as a chef, you stayed with her. I was in no financial position to help. When she died I got the life insurance and invested in your future without you knowing it. As you stood on your own I backed away.” 

“Now when we split and I was out of work and on the street, I had a brief fling and that is where you come in Julie. I helped you in the same way I helped Greg and when you married I thought great, now I can relax a bit.” 

“When you were turfed out of your marriage you had nothing, except of course Mike. I was back to helping you get by with the insurance money and with money from a few lucrative kitchen design projects. A couple of times it looked like you were going to get work, but the jobs never happened. I kept an eye on you as we were both on the street and as you said to me a few times it seemed to be the only place you could protect and help Mike.”

“Now I can feel I am slowing down. With your offer Greg concerning the pub, it was time for me to admit to myself my stupidity over the years. Our situation seemed to be fine, acceptable, but now I know it wasn’t. On the other hand I did not want Julie to lose Mike.” 

“There are also others out on the street who deserve better and have skills of one form or another. I tried to help them also.  I know they could work in a pub situation.” 

“Anyway as far as you two are concerned it was time to get you together as siblings as I should have done from the start. That is it, that is all there is from my point of view.”

Greg stood and said, “First things first.” 

He then went to Julie, took her hands, raised her up off the sofa and gave her a big hug. 

“Welcome to my life sis.” 

She burst into tears and Mellie joined her with moistened eyes and even Mike joined in saying, “Yaaa”. 

Frank watched somewhat apprehensively. 

With the hug over Greg then said, “You know I could say a lot right now and some of it might not be too pleasant, but I will resist and instead say, from my point of view, what’s done is done. I don’t condone it, but it is under the bridge and flowing away. Our lives are not over and we have a future to look forward to, a good deal of planning and we need to see if we can help Mike get beyond his inner world, Yaaa. I know Julie you and Mike have gone through a lot, certainly not all pleasant. Just because we now know we are siblings, it doesn’t change the past, but it does open up possibilities for the future. So, dad, you are an ass for sure for what you have done. I know you had reasons. I don’t think they were good reasons, but there it is. Now, if you will just wait here for a moment. Mellie can I have your help for a second or two.”

Greg then turned and went toward the kitchen with Mellie right behind. 

“Could you get down some wine glasses please. ” 

He then went into the pantry and rummaged around finally coming out with a bottle of Champaign. 

“There should be a tray just behind the door.” 

Mellie retrieved it as Greg started pouring Champaign into the five glasses. He put the glasses on the tray and then carried it back to the sitting area. 

With glasses handed out he proposed a toast. 

“To siblings united and to our future together.” 

They clinked glasses sipped at the Champaign and Mike said, “Yaaaa.” 

Julie then put her glass down, stood, walked to Greg and gave him another hug. She then turned toward Frank walked to him, looked at him for a moment and then gave him a hug. 

She then said, “You did not do right by us even though now I realize it was you who supported us when we needed the help. I know you had your reasons, but you were wrong. Yes, water under the bridge and now lets get it together and make a wonderful future for us and if we can help others along the way then lets do it.” 

“Yaaa.”

To Mellie on the side Greg said, “Thanks, I needed you in the kitchen so I would not start throwing things.”

Mellie burst into tears, shoved her glass at Greg and ran to her room flinging herself on the bed. Her thought at that moment was, bloody hell I’m over thirty and all I can manage is to bubble on a bed. 

Witnessing the discovery below, her thoughts had drifted to her own situation and the loss of her parents. She had no family. It was too much for her emotional control. When Greg said she was a crutch for him in the kitchen it was too much to hold back. She just erupted.

A few moments later Julie put her glass down and because Greg was not doing anything about Mellie, she followed her path, knocked on the door, opened it, went in and sat on the bed beside Mellie. Julie then learned about Mellie’s past and realized the scene down below had been difficult for her. She did not learn Mellie had fallen for Greg.

Frank on the other hand had worked out Mellie and Greg had grown into a relationship. He did not know how strong it was, but he knew it when he saw it. What he did not understand was Greg’s reluctance. More than a year had passed since Rose’s death. Greg was letting Mellie wear Rose’s clothes and yet he was not taking the next step. She was suppose to be passing through and he was going to let her go. Why? What was holding him back? It would be his life of which she would become a part. He had to invite her in. Then again maybe in his own way he was doing just that and it was Mellie who was reluctant. The spark was there, why no flame? Frank started to ask Greg a question. 

Greg was too quick and simply said, “Drop it before you get going.” 

Greg then put his glass down and walked away. Frank and Mike were left alone together. 

Frank concluded, saying to Mike, “Like father like son.”

“Yaaa.”

Greg went toward his office to jot down a couple of notes on his to do list and as he did with a growing smile he also thought there is more to Mike than we know.

The Editor was in early and had sifted through a number of items before turning his attention to Sarah’s proposal. He opened the large envelope, realized there were two items and took up Sarah’s proposal to read first. He found it to be sound, well thought through and convincing. He was all for it and agreed with the benefits likely to accrue to the paper. He then read her sample article, decided it needed a bit of tweaking and more information about the Minister’s background, but that it was good and if representative of future articles would prove to be a successful column. 

He decided he was right to take Sarah on as a reporter come journalist. Day by day he was observing a women maturing into a position of responsibility. She was beginning to understand the importance of place and the part people play in creating it. It was not just bricks and mortar. There was a whole cultural and systemic foundation underlying everything happening in place. She might not have the words for it yet, but intuitively he could see Sarah was grasping the notion and beginning to run with it.

As he was reflecting on Sarah’s progress he heard her come in to the paper’s offices and make her way toward his open door. A little knock and she entered asking if he had a moment.

“Yes, come in, sit down. I’ve looked at your proposal and article and in short you are on the right track.” 

In her mind Sarah simply said, Yes.

“I think your proposal is sound and yes it will benefit the paper. Your article on the other hand needs more work.”

“I know. When I did the interviews on the weekend I did not have “Community Profiles” on my mind. These articles are going to require more in depth writing and for this one I need more background on the Minister. What I have written so far leaves her seeming to be wooden and predictable, when I know she is really quite the opposite.”

“Now, as I understand from your proposal you want to start or continue writing profiles about those who were at Greg’s farm for the weekend. You have not listed them in order. Is there a reason for leaving the order open?”

“Yes, I could not decide who I should do when and then I thought the interviews required context of the moment. So, yes I will gradually work through the list in no particular order, rather, depending on what is happening in the community involving them. It may work out others who were not at Greg’s will be profiled before those on the list if the timing and context is right. The list is both a starting point and a fall back if needed.”

“Now, can you cover other news and community events and do the profiles? That is a lot and it will require much dedication to keep it all flowing.”

“I suppose I am just going to have to try. For example I was in the big city yesterday and came away with two articles, maybe more, one on the project Greg is working on called Feed the Block and the other involving The Mechanics and a concert they gave at the same project. I was fortunate to be there and The Mechanics concert can link into their part at the festival this weekend. I think I am starting to get the hang of this.”

“And so do I. Now you seem to have a lot to write for the next edition and that is good, but you cannot forget to cover the ongoing newsy things too. You are biting off a lot Sarah, so pace yourself. I would not want to see you get burned out and remember, although our staff is not numerous, they are there and can help you including the other reporters.”

“Thanks.” Sarah rose and went back to her desk to get on with being a reporter / journalist.

The Editor thought, “Another year or two and I will be able to pass the torch.”

Chapter 13

Mellie had composed herself and was determined to put on a cheery face for the weekend no matter what happened. She showered and then went into the kitchen to find Frank and Greg working on a joint breakfast.

“You have beaten me to it. I was going to bring you a coffee and put it under your nose.”

“No need. I am awake and bushy tailed and ready to go. Should be a fun weekend. I am looking forward to it all as I have never participated in anything like a festival, not at the creating music end anyway.” 

In the back of her mind she knew the end of the weekend meant only two more days to go before she was scheduled to leave. Her emotions were fragile and hoped for something like a recurring Ground Hog Day. She knew once the music started she would be able to become lost in it. It was the times in between she was concerned about.

“So The Mechanics are scheduled to be on stage in the early afternoon today. I will take you to the festival site today, but then I have to return here to get on with my work commitments. The Mechanic will bring you back here after playing today and tomorrow I will be there all day and evening with you and the band applauding loudly and helping where I can.”

Frank then said he, Julie and Mike were going to be at the festival today at least as there were some groups he wanted to see and hear and Julie and Mike wanted to go along. 

“So, you won’t be without at least three people in the audience rooting for you.”

“Wonderful, I really hope I can, we can impress the socks off you. I’ll give it a try,” Mellie said.

Soon Mike and Julie joined them for breakfast. Greg wanted to form another habit and started referring to Julie as “sis”. He felt good using the short form and Julie was pleased beyond words to hear it.

After eating and coffees Greg said he would take Mellie into the festival site in about an hour and link her up with The Mechanics. He asked Frank and Julie if it was OK for them to make their own way to the site when they wanted to go. 

Julie replied, “We have not lost our walking legs yet, so it should be fine, bro.” 

Greg laughed heartily and the others joined in. 

“Yaaa.”

They cleaned up and Mellie went to her room to decide which outfit to wear today and then tomorrow. As Greg was not going to be in attendance today, she decided day one would be the black dress and day two the skirt and vest.

Greg took half-an-hour to begin reviewing what he had to do prior to classes starting again. This year he wanted to incorporate the Feed the Block project in his curriculum. More locally he wanted to see what the students could come up with for two or three different sites in town. He always learned from his students and now looked forward to getting back into the classroom. He hoped the pub/restaurant distraction would diminish with Frank and Julie taking it on. Of course there was still the farm, but he felt he was getting closer to a decision whether to keep it or not depending on who would be hired by Frank and might be available and motivated to work part time out there.

Mellie, well, he knew he had fallen for her. Frank was right, they did fit well together, but Greg could not see how he was going to impose his age upon her. Once again, he said to himself, she is the one who has to decide. 

He caught himself about to go into a day dream, came back to the moment and went to get Mellie for the trip into the festival site. They would go the back route in the golf cart. She was dressed in shorts with the flowers v neck tee-shirt and carried a small bag with the black dress in it. 

They found The Mechanics truck and the musicians sitting around beside it waiting for their turn to perform. They all greeted Mellie and Greg and then Greg made his apologies, returned to the cart and slowly his apartment. Frank, Julie and Mike had gone. Seated comfortably in the alcove with another coffee Greg began his thoughts.

Prevention assumes the risk of unwanted harm and to avoid harm some action will be necessary to prevent the harm from happening. Sounds simple, but it is not and it is not because of complexity including perspective, cultural differences involving VABs and MEKs, scale, pervasive remoteness, unknown consequences and design possibilities among other factors.

The key notion in the above paragraph is the word “assumes”. To assume risk one must be cognizant of the potential for unwanted harm. If potential risk is not recognized then there will be no assumption of risk. We only assume risk if the risk has been identified. Following on from there we arrive at a list of questions directly pertinent to identification of risk of unwanted harm. This is particularly important for the design of settlement systems, but also for our particular actions in those systems. 

Risk is an anticipatory word in the sense that it predicts the potential for unwanted harm. How and by whom is this potential, the degree of probability, determined? What is the predicted severity of the risk? Can detailed characteristics of risk be determined and identified? Is it possible to model risk and what other information, factual knowledge, is required to ensure the model’s accuracy? Finally and it seems for humanity, confidence in the information and the providers of the information is critically important. Who are the surrogates, what are their motivations in providing information to the rest of us?

Additionally, once risk is identified, is it possible to determine and quantify whether the actions associated with prevention are better or worse than the potential harm of the initial risk? Further, if we allow harm to fester will it become more severe with time and scale increases? A lot to consider.

I need to say something about harm itself, because it comes in so many guises and often we do not recognize its visitation until we are directly affected. 

Settlement harbours many risks of harm from the subtle to the obvious. In many instances the conditions are such that the harm is inevitable, even if obscure, and only waits for a tipping point to set it off. Building on a flood plain is a prime example. Removing people from the ground into hi-rise accommodation devastates the functionality and liveability of community. Corbusier and other advocates of high rise were wrong while Camillo Sitte,  Jane Jacobs, Christopher Alexander and the like were clearly correct. Pumping raw or poorly treated sewage into natural water systems inevitably cause chemical and nutrient pollutions which are very expensive to clean up. Really, the list of potential harm goes on and on. 

When we design settlement, but really any system, potential harm and its risk assessment should be front and centre. We need to know in advance, as much as it is possible to know, where the risks lie and or are hidden. If there is uncertainty about the outcome of some design and action and the degree of harm that could arise, then the precautionary principle should be applied and employed until more certainty is established. As I have said repeatedly, humanity designs systems and it is our decisions in one form or another, that leads to accident and failure, both avoidable with proper risk assessment and design.

Returning to the notion of confidence, there are two, at least, sources of potential conflict of advocacy. First, we must deal with the cultural potential where and when values, attitudes and beliefs are at odds. The second and by no means the lesser, involves opinion tied in with memory, experience and knowledge. And of course these two potential conflicts overlap. Muddle is never easy to work with and in and requires a great deal of clarification to establish common grounds and an acceptable way forward with minimal risk of harm.

Feed the Block and community gardens and the like are projects attempting to redress the balance skewed in a non-community direction. Vibrant and visible activity is so important to successful community as Jacobs so eloquently described. Our settlements have been designed to be nuclear rather than inclusive and should include natural systems upon which we are so dependent. We have been and continue to opt for technological solutions, which no doubt are important, but should be employed in a sensitive and complementary manner. Feed the Block brings sensitivity and humanity back into our settlement systems.

At the outset of this sequence of thinkings I spoke about the Languages of Existence and really only scratched the surface of what needs to be said. I tried to maintain threads and draw connections as I progressed through the various subjects introduced. The languages of humanity, whatever their forms, are a natural extension of life’s ability to communicate. These languages are crucial in our existence and have enabled us to design extensively, including the design of settlement and all the cultural off-shoots. 

Unfortunately language is not exact. Confusions and misunderstandings are common place, exacerbated by our tendency toward remoteness and a misplaced reliance upon misleading surrogates. Feed the Block, is an attempt to draw people together in a common cause of liveability and proximity. 

Jane Jacobs spoke about the benefits of social milieu and “eyes on the street”. She was an advocate for mixed uses and activities in an urban setting. Christopher Alexander, with his book, “A Pattern Language” attempted to design pattern into and with concepts using language. He was not interested in repeatable form. Rather, he was more interested in the qualities found in valued place reflecting desired  concepts. The language and concepts he wrote about are collectively the pattern he employed  to influence quality design. The scale of his focus was small and intimate. Sitte, on the other hand, was more interested in the relationships and organization of urban settlement as a network of functional links and nodes containing opportunities for vista, surprise, milieu, climate sensitivity, commerce, architectural punctuation and yes intimacy.

I have spoken briefly about many issues facing humanity today. In my next sequence of thoughts I will revisit the dialogue started concerning scale. For the moment then, pencil, paper and recorder go away while I consider what is to be said at a later time about size and extent.

I have one last thought. We have a tendency to rely upon adaptation. The crisis must occur before we adjust our behaviour to take the necessary preventive steps to avoid another similar crisis. We adapt to the consequences of a crisis and then and only then prepare preventive safeguards. 

Risk is not always identifiable, but when it is every effort should be made to prevent the risk from turning from a potential harm into an existential reality. In the matter of climate change I am dumbfounded. We know it is happening and that it will become much worse over time. We also know the necessary steps required to prevent climate change from becoming an uncontrollable global catastrophe. Yet, we continue to use the language of adaptation or worse by our collective inaction to prevent, we deny. As designers there is the very real and existential possibility we may fail.

The Editor was right, thought Sarah. She realized there was a bit too much on her plate, but also knew the impending articles were important and she was committed to it so needed to get on with the writing. She looked at the time and realized there was only a couple of hours before she would have to make her way to the festival. If there was to be an article, a profile, on the Mechanic and his band, she needed to be present for both concerts and extend her earlier interview with the Mechanic himself.

For the moment though, she needed to get in touch with the Minister and organize another time with her. 

Having done that she then began roughing out her article about “Feed the Block”. This she realized was going to be a big piece if she was going to do justice to it. To do justice, she realized it would be essential to provide a full context for Feed the Block and that would require the philosophy behind the project. She would have to get Charles’ version, but figured eventually she would have to talk with Greg about it. 

Clearly a transfer of ownership had happened. Although both Greg and Charles remained involved and passionate about the project, the residents had assumed responsibility, planning, fund raising and management. They had achieved a huge amount in a short time and could not have done it if the city was not on board. All the pieces had fallen in place including Ingrid, a real find if there ever was one. Under her stewardship they really did have an urban farm and a lot more.

Sarah had just about completed the outline when she glanced at the clock on her computer. 

“Oh shit. I will not be late for The Mechanics performance. Get your butt in gear, girl.” 

She double saved and then closed everything down. Just enough time to shower and get over to the festival site. As she left the paper’s office she dangled her keys so Alice could see them and saying, “Off to the festival,” exited the building. 

She was in and out of her apartment in ten minutes and completed the drive to the site in another ten. She parked and was at the gate in another five flashing her press pass, thanking whoever invented press passes for their brilliant idea. 

Sarah then slowed down, took a deep breath and looked around. The act on stage consisted of a young man at a piano belting out old crooner songs and group songs of the fifties. It was OK, but she could not help but wonder where the organizers found these performers. She would have to ask at some stage, worth knowing.

The audience numbers were not large at the mid-day hour. It was a lovely day, sunny and warm, but definitely not standing room only. She was not surprised to see the beer tent was doing roaring business. Maybe a bit early, but then there are always those who enjoy lubrication any time with festival music.  

Given the weather she was not surprised to see some of the girls wearing not much at all and the guys in their jeans and muscle shirts. Some had hats, some were under shades and to a person they all looked as if they were having a good time. Very few were looking at the stage and who knew how many were actually listening, mum and dad for sure. The Mechanics were scheduled to be next, as the start off band for the afternoon and evening.

Sarah continued to circulate and eventually came upon Frank, Julie and Mike. Frank introduced her to Julie and Mike and during the chat Julie let it be known she and Greg were half siblings. Sarah was pleased for Julie who was obviously very pleased about the events of the previous day. As they chatted the pianist finished to polite applause and calls from some of the lubricated ones to get the show going. 

The MC did exactly that. He gave a few announcements and then invited the audience to welcome The Mechanics. 

They walked purposefully to their instruments with Mellie in her black dress hanging back on the edge of the stage. The band was decked out in overalls, jeans, t-shirts, hats, cowboy boots and one with a pair of suspenders. Mellie looked elegant while the rest of the band looked like they had just come in from the workshop or barn. 

They started instrumentally and Sarah realized they were doing a sort of medley of the music they would perform in the set. They did not stop playing, but rather segued into their first full piece with Mellie moving to the centre mic. 

Sarah watched both the band and the audience to see what would happen. As she sang and the band played on heads started to turn. Sarah realized Mellie had them with her, she had won them over very quickly. She further realized Mellie was the genuine thing and wondered why it had taken her so long to return to music.

Sarah left Frank, Julie and Mike to enjoy the set and just continued her wandering. She got what she thought would be a few good pictures with the band in the background and got one from just in front of the stage, principally focusing on Mellie in the dress she had become familiar with and her bare feet. The set lasted about forty-five minutes giving the next band a few minutes to set up and warm up. There would be eight bands and a stand up comedian performing before mid-night. 

From these performances a select few would be asked back the next afternoon and evening to play before the headliners. The Mechanics finished with calls for more and enthusiastic applause. They had given a standout performance, a great beginning for the festival, all covers done with sensitivity, style and wonderful musicianship. 

Sarah would have to stay for the other performances, but wanted to congratulate The Mechanics. She made her way backstage, saw Mellie who immediately came over and gave Sarah a big hug. 

“That was wonderful,” Sarah blurted out. “I was in the audience. You won them over girl, right from the start.” 

“I know, I’m somewhat shocked by it all. I’m of a hundred different minds right now and this just adds to the confusion. I enjoyed it though, I really did.”

“I’ll let you speak to others. I need a quick word with the Mechanic. You were wonderful,” and Sarah shuffled over to arrange an interview time with the Mechanic and congratulate him on a good performance. 

“Yah, we did OK and maybe it will be enough to play late tomorrow. That would be great.” 

Sarah moved away letting others chat with or interview the band. Her dossier on them was growing daily it seemed and she felt confident there would be a good Profile come from it all. She returned to the audience, found a place to relax to see and hear the rest of the bands.

From past experience the Mechanic knew they would be asked to play on Sunday, but obviously did not know where they would be positioned ahead of the warm up band and then the headliner. What he did know, felt was a need to expand their song list. The band by itself could cover hundreds of tunes along with some of their own material. They were all accomplished musicians who kept their day jobs. The difficulty was marrying Mellie into their musical archive. Definitely he thought there were some songs to be repeated, but he wanted to mix it up a bit. 

He took out his phone and called Greg. When he finished he called the guys and Mellie together to explain what he had arranged. He then spoke to one of the festival organizers making sure she had his cell number. The Mechanics packed everything up and headed for The Chandelier.

In the truck Mellie was sandwiched between suspenders and muscle shirt. She did not mind and thought she probably smelled worse than them, maybe. 

During the drive to the pub, Mellie closed her eyes to shut everything out. She desperately wanted to relax and enjoy the moment, but found her mind wandering forward to Tuesday. 

They arrived, quickly unloaded gear and just as quickly were setting up before taking a well deserved break. Greg had ordered in food and drink. The band members, Mellie and Greg just chatted about nothing in particular. It was actually exactly what Mellie needed at that moment, just to relax and let the others talk. She listened.

After an hour the Mechanic brought out a briefcase and pulled out a piece of paper with a list of songs on it with the artists noted. He asked Mellie to scan the list to identify songs she knew well enough she would be confident singing them on Sunday. She finally marked nine of the titles. 

The Mechanic took the list and decided on four of the ones Mellie had identified. He then leafed through his brief case and brought out music sheets for the four titles. He suggested to the rest of the band they use the remainder of the afternoon and early evening to make sure everyone was on the same page. 

They worked hard going over every last detail until they were satisfied they could do better than just a credible performance. In the back of his mind the Mechanic knew they had really pegged the music and was confident their preparation would translate well to the big stage. It would depend on Mellie to a great extent. If she sang and moved as she had in the afternoon set he was confident they would do well. He did not dwell on it for long, but did think about after the weekend briefly and the familiar issue of finding a replacement singer, this time to replace Mellie. He knew it would not be easy.

Greg had prepared a meal for after their rehearsal, nothing special, just a grand bowl of spaghetti. They sat around the trestle table and engaged in more chat. As they continued Mellie made excuses and retired to her bedroom marvelling at their stamina. With all that was going on and pending, surprisingly she fell asleep quickly and was out for the night.

Greg was just about to go to his room when Frank, Julie and Mike came in. They said the Mechanics were by far the best band and they could not see how they would not be the warm up to the warm up band. Greg was very pleased with this news, bid them a good night and went to his own room.

Chapter 14

Greg decided it would be a waste of effort to go to the farm. He figured he would only get there and then have to return. Instead, he put his mind toward making a standout breakfast thinking as he did there really was some genetic similarity between himself and Frank. He managed to prepare a wonderful fruit salad, made waffles and prepared mushrooms and bacon to be smelt all over the apartment. 

“If that does not get them up nothing will,” he mumbled. 

True enough, one by one they started to descend the stairs following their noses.

Mellie was last complaining she had to come to the kitchen for a coffee. 

“I will have to talk to management about the room service here,” Greg smiled. 

Another gorgeous day had started and they took their breakfasts to the patio to breath it all in.

Greg answered his phone. 

“Well, well, OK, that will give us a bit of time to relax some more and yes we will be at the site by three. See you then, bye.” Greg then relayed the message, saying,  “The Mechanic got a call this morning and The Mechanics are scheduled as the warm up to the warm up. You and the band are playing the evening finale.” 

Mellie could only look at Greg, she did not say anything, but gradually Greg noticed a now familiar quarter smile on one side of her mouth. She was pleased and mystified. 

In her mind she wondered how all this was happening.

After helping to clean up Mellie asked Greg if playing the piano would be OK as she wanted to practice the songs again before the concert. 

“You do not have to ask to play the piano. It is yours to play.” 

She looked at Greg again, this time searching for something to tell her what to do. 

Greg only smiled and then said, “I do enjoy it when you do play the old girl.”

Mellie spent the next hour-and-a-half working on the songs, trying out different approaches to the music and lyrics. She had not been wholly satisfied with the rehearsal believing she could do better. She finished the practice now with much more confidence in her interpretations of the music. She then went to her room for a nap and was called awake some time later by Julie at her bedroom door. They had time for a light lunch before Greg and Mellie headed to the festival site.

The afternoon session was over and as the day slipped into evening the audience numbers began to swell in anticipation. It would be a very good evening of music. 

Mellie was quietly confident about the evening, did not say much of anything as they drove in the cart to the festival site. With Greg she was contemplating her future beyond the evening concert. With The Mechanics she would be immersed in the music and the moment. She reasoned if plans, what plans, did not work out in the East she could always return to Greg and the band, but then thought with time things change and she might not be so welcome in a month, six months, a year. She decided, get through tonight and see what happens tomorrow.

Mellie and Greg found the band in roughly the same location as the previous day. They were just lounging around, chatting, telling apparently endless anecdotes about what they had done or heard what other people had done. It wasn’t focused at all, just meandering all over the map as one story triggered memory and another tangent was embarked upon.

Greg asked if he could get anything for them, but no they were well stocked with sandwiches, junk food and beverage. They were just happy to sit in the sun and warmth of the afternoon waiting their well earned turn to play in the evening. 

Greg asked Mellie what she wanted to do, stay with her band mates or amble a bit. After the Mechanic indicated they were just shootin the breeze, Mellie opted for the amble and she and Greg set off along one of the numerous trails the city had created over the past ten years. 

They did not talk much, just strolled. At one point Mellie hooked her arm through Greg’s and as they walked the dappled sunshine broke through the canopy above. Greg was being torn apart  although he did not want to show it. Damn his age and his principles. He wanted to turn toward her and say, stay, stay with me. He couldn’t and he wouldn’t without a word from her. 

Mellie was in a similar state, felt better as she leaned into Greg, but did not know how to go beyond. She said nothing and as the music filtered through the trees they appeared to be a couple just strolling in the late afternoon warmth enjoying the natural surroundings stretching along the path edges.

They took a couple of turns in their stroll and in time found they were returning to the festival site. The music was louder and they came upon more and more people with similar strolling intentions. A few runners passed them and one cyclist all decked out in appropriate gear. 

Mellie and Greg made their way over to The Mechanics truck again taking in some of the music as they skirted the bulk of the audience. 

As they approached Greg said he was going to leave Mellie with the band. He wanted to chat with a couple of people he had seen as they made their way around the audience. 

In fact he was feeling very awkward at that moment and needed to put some distance between Mellie and himself. He had become acutely aware over the past week of the void in his life since Rose’s death. He did not want to become too familiar with Mellie’s presence just to have it torn away in a couple of days.

He wished them well in their performance and retreated back into the audience milieu wandering somewhat aimlessly. He saw Frank, Julie and Mike chatting with some other people. After the weekend he would begin to look into what options and opportunities there were for Mike. He sensed there was a lot more to the boy than he showed and wanted to find specialists who would be able to tease out Mike’s inner self. He decided not to join their group. He saw a few of the farm weekenders, waved to a couple of them and continued wandering until he found himself near a tree well back from the stage with no one underneath. From there he could hear the music well enough, see what was going on in a general way and sit quietly to think through his principles once again. After a short time he was joined by Sarah who asked as she sat if these were the cheap seats. 

The bands played, the afternoon sun moved across the sky and soon the evening climax would begin. 

The Mechanics’ chat had changed into preparatory talk. They were becoming all business and Mellie was picking up on their serious vibes. She started to review in her mind the order of songs they would play along with the little nuances she had worked on at the piano. She told the Mechanic about her subtle lyric changes and said the band should not change its planned performance. She was counting on steady as you go, but did not realize very good musicians, such as The Mechanics, enjoyed exploring variations on themes. Steady as you go was not part of their lexicon. 

The band was dressed in their workshop clothing once again providing a stark contrast to Mellie’s barefoot elegance. She had selected another outfit from Rose’s wardrobe, this time a long pleated skirt with a buttoned vest. 

The band had been selected to play the evening set by audience choice. Indeed the voting was so one sided in their favour if they had known the numbers they would have been somewhat embarrassed. It was not because the other bands were no good. Some were excellent, but the presence and performance of The Mechanics along with Mellie was such a standout in comparison, there really was no choice involved. The MC came on stage and the evening to the roar of the crowd was underway.

The Mechanics started in a similar way with a medley of their music and  Mellie standing to one side. Upon finishing their introduction they immediately continued with the first three songs in quick succession. 

During their set The Mechanics played the music of the artists and writers who had made such wonderful material. There was so much to choose from in the world of music, to break it all down into a list of fifteen or so songs was, to say the least, exclusive. There was so much more to explore and re-interpret, but saying that the band did have its likes and dislikes. 

With confidence building Mellie was more inclined to speak between numbers. She described how the music was important to her and the band and how the artists had influenced them over the years. She threw in a few anecdotes from real life and thoroughly enjoyed herself for the third concert in a week.

Mellie had chosen the last two songs, “Send in the Clowns” a piece Cleo Lane had done so well and then for the final song, Cohen’s “Take This Waltz”. In all the band had played fifteen numbers to a more than appreciative audience. Indeed, they received the first prolonged standing ovation of the weekend festival.

Off-stage Mellie and the band had to endure, not quite the correct word, more a case of respectfully acknowledging all the congratulations, hugs and back slapping. If the last two acts were to approach the levels The Mechanics had reached it truly would be one of those memorable festival concerts.

Unknown to Mellie, the headliner had approached the Mechanic after their performance and asked if he could do a duet with the band and Mellie as his final piece. The Mechanics could simply replace his band for the festival’s last number and he and Mellie could sing a duet they chose. He explained he thought it would be fitting to do so as the crowd had so overwhelmingly shown their appreciation for The Mechanics’ music. He definitely wanted to jump on the bandwagon of their success. A quick conference of the band members and Mellie resulted in agreement to the offer. Their evening was not over just yet.

The warmup or cool down band was a well known local group who did a very credible performance, but not to the heights reached by The Mechanics. They played through their song list including songs that had reached the charts. They were good, very professional and in a difficult position following on from The Mechanics. There was almost a collective sigh of relief when the band finished and the headliner came on to great expectations. He did not disappoint. His music, the arrangements and his on stage performance was equal to what people expected. It truly had been a great evening of music and then to everyone’s delight there was a seamless transition back to The Mechanics as they took their positions and took up their instruments. When Mellie walked on stage there was a thunder of applause. She bowed and waved her arm indicating the band and the headliner. The band then started into “Up Where You Stand” what had become a classic duet piece. Their voices blended well. Then the festival was over. 

Greg had gone backstage when The Mechanics had finished their set. Needless to say he congratulated them and gave Mellie a really big hug saying she was terrific. It was then he learned Mellie and the band would be performing the duet. He was extremely proud of her, but then thought his sense of pride in what she had accomplished was misplaced. Really he had nothing to do with it. This had been Mellie and the Mechanic and the whole band. All Greg had done was help to enable it to happen. He rationalized his feeling was more along the lines of deep, well yes say it you old fool, love for the girl. As a parent as a partner, he did not know which.

Greg stayed backstage and when the music ended he stayed in the background. At one point Mellie started searching for him, found him sitting on the sidelines went over and leaned against the rail beside him. She was still buzzing and wanted Greg to be a part of her euphoria. He stood and stayed with her for the rest of the backstage festivities mingling with everyone, but he did not feel a part of it. He was there because Mellie wanted him to be there.

Gradually everyone started to disperse. The festival was over for another year. All that was left was the cleanup and the city would do that. Mellie had changed out of her, Rose’s, outfit into street clothes once again. The Mechanics had packed up and for them it was a work day tomorrow. 

Greg and Mellie made their way to the golf cart and slowly wound their way back to Greg’s apartment along the back routes. By the time they arrived Frank and the others were there to greet them and give Mellie a standing round of applause along with a few “Yaaaas”. 

Tears came to Mellie’s eyes and soon she was bubbling away overcome with emotions she could not control. Julie tried to console her and eventually control was re-established. They continued to offer congratulations picking out songs they had particularly enjoyed. Soon they were all sitting and relaxing in the late hour and then with their adrenalin dropping away, they started thinking about sleep. Without the need to apologize, although she did, Mellie finally said she was heading to bed. The rest followed soon after.

Chapter 15

Greg was up early to work on his fall schedule of courses. Over the years preparations had become a lot easier as now he tweaked rather than write from scratch or re-write. He had learned a great deal about what worked and what didn’t. But, there were also lots of new ideas, some from his own thinking and ideas he borrowed from other instructors and sometimes the students. 

Most students he found just wanted to do what was required by the instructor, no more and sometimes less. Occasionally there were exceptional students with a passion for the subject matter. He tended to gravitate toward those students and their ideas because of the common bond and interest in the material. When his course projects worked he still got a buzz out of it.

He planned to just relax this day, start slowly, take Mellie to the farm for a last visit, maybe another walk around the farm with Sally, a swim, some music and back to the apartment or sleep at the farm and return in the morning. Talk about tipping points. He hoped today would be her tipping point, when she realized staying was better than leaving, even if it meant staying with an old man.

Enough work. He went to the kitchen area, had a shower, made some coffee and took a cup to Mellie’s room, knocked gently opened the door and put the coffee on her bedside table. Just for a moment he watched her sleeping to remember for a while anyway as he knew the memory would fade with time. As she began to move he backed out of the doorway, closed her door and started back along the balcony to return to the kitchen area and making breakfast. Just as he started down the stair Julie emerged from her room saying, “Morning bro.” 

Greg had to laugh and in return just said,”Ya sis, coffee is in the kitchen.”

Julie used the toilet and then went down to the shower she had not quite learned to use comfortably yet. After many years of hiding away from people, showering in an exposed location was not her first choice even though she knew the glass fogged up quite quickly. This morning Greg was busy making a breakfast, no one else was up so she quickly showered and felt a hundred percent better for doing so. In a loose gown she then went into the kitchen area to help Greg, although over the years of street life kitchen duties and cooking had become somewhat foreign to her. With her pub responsibilities kitchen activities would become very familiar.

Soon Frank, Mike and Mellie last were all milling about near to the kitchen area wondering what Greg had cooked up. Mellie helped Julie get out plates and cutlery. They all had cups of coffee. As Greg made final preparations he considered this moment and reflected on a time just two weeks previously. Then he had no family as part of his life. Now his dad and new found sister had moved in. For the first time his eyes moistened and tears almost fell. 

Soon they were all on the patio enjoying Greg’s culinary efforts, fruit, fries, bacon, mushrooms and scrambled egg with toast and of course more coffee. 

They chatted, largely about the day before remembering festival hi-lights and in particular Mellie’s contribution. Mellie, from her perspective, spoke about the warm reception from the festival audience. She vowed to remember the experience for a long time and having an opportunity to sing the duet just capped off a wonderful weekend. But then she said something quite unexpected. The concert at Feed the Block had been for her much more intimate and real somehow. Maybe it was the size of the audience there, their desire to participate, their close presence. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but she knew she came away from Feed the Block in a more satisfied and warmer frame of mind.

Greg asked Mellie and the others if they wanted to visit the farm. Mellie was enthusiastic about doing so while Julie said she needed to do some things in town and Frank indicated he would tag along to help where he could. 

“Yaaa.”

After cleaning up Mellie and Greg jumped into the pickup and headed to the farm chatting about nothing of consequence, just chatting with a few laughs mixed in. When they turned onto the farm road Mellie asked Greg to let her out as she wanted to walk the last part under the trees and along the drive. 

Although he did not show it, Greg was devastated. He realized she really was going to go. At least now he knew and could put what might have been out of his mind.

Mellie, for her part, was wanting to absorb, to take all of it in, to hug it and never let it go. At that moment it did not matter to her whether she remained or jumped on the train the next day, she simply wanted to be, to feel as a part of the surroundings. In her philosophers t-shirt she slowly made her way to the farm house with Sally diving into the brush and rummaging around as they went.

Greg was not going to do any work today. Rather, he hoped to just walk with Mellie, be with her.  But principles or was it stupidity, prevailed. On the patio at the house he said, “This is your day at the farm to do as you want and I will join you if invited. If you just want to commune with the cows and potter aimlessly on your own, that’s fine too.” 

Mellie could not believe her ears. The last thing she wanted was to be on her own. She wanted this day to be their day. She almost replied, but didn’t, “You old fool, can’t you see how I feel?” 

Instead she said, “Well maybe a bit, but really I just want to relax with you out here in this wonderful environment.” 

How lame and biological could she be? She realized she was just as bad at this as Greg.

So, they stayed together, they pottered around, they strolled along the better paths Mellie hooking her arm in Greg’s. Eventually they wandered near to the barn and the infamous mud-fight. 

“You know, I’ve never looked inside your barn. Can we?” 

“Of course. There is not much to see, just a barn. Surprisingly, it is in not bad shape although there are a few timbers needing to be replaced. Structurally though it is sound and I have made sure the roof is good. The worst is when water starts to get in as these timbers would rot very quickly after remaining so dry for so long.”

From the outside the barn did not look to be that big. 

Inside Mellie said,  “This is cavernous. What do you do with it?”

“Mostly store hay and in the winter the cattle use it for shelter in the worst of the winter weather. Temperature does not seem to bother them. They do not like strong winds though and prefer to be sheltered from them. So they come in here and of course their winter water supply is in the barn, so they spend a bit of time in and around the barn, hence the plugged drainage out back.”

Mellie had heard about and had seen, in her travels, barn conversions for various purposes. She considered this barn before her eyes and vaguely thought it probably could be converted to some other uses, but had nothing specifically in mind. She asked Greg if he had ever thought of converting it for another purpose.

“I can’t say a conversion was never considered. I have not given it much thought at all although I know Rose believed it would make a wonderful studio and concert space. A very expensive conversion it would have been. Then she was killed. I never pursued it. Maybe the next owner will do something along those lines.”

“What do you mean, the next owner?” Mellie asked.

“Oh lately the idea of selling has started to creep into my head. As much as I love this place and the memories associated with it, I’m not getting younger and am feeling at times overwhelmed with the attention it requires in addition to my other more important interests. They bring in the pay check. The farm takes it away. In one pocket out the other. Some of the ideas from the past weekend were really interesting though and they might make me reconsider.”

“What do you think it would cost to convert the barn into studio space?”

“I’ve never done any sums. Today certainly it would be a six figure number, the first digit dependent upon how it was done, the design, the extent of facilities and the amount of contractor involvement, maybe into seven figures.” 

“Do you have any idea what the demand is for studio space in this area?” asked Mellie.

“Don’t know. Never looked into it. Anyway it is rather a moot speculation as I have no need nor inclination to do it.”

Mellie looked around the inside of the barn for a little while longer. They then went back out into the sunshine and meandered past the woodpile and the garden. As they past the garden Mellie looked at herself in there weeding away as if she was looking down from above.  Time was slipping away as they approached the house. It was warm again so Mellie thought a relaxing swim would be lovely. She told Greg her intention, grabbed a towel and started for the pond. Greg declined the invitation to join her rather wanting to play some music and continue a novel he was reading and which he had stopped reading some two weeks earlier. Mentally, he was trying to adjust to the realization Mellie would soon depart. 

Mellie stripped lowered herself into the cool waters and slowly swam, breast stroke, around the pond. It occurred to her she had not looked below the waters previously, but did so now. The clarity was amazing and although she could not see well enough to recognize any bottom features, she could certainly make out the irregular rocky sides as they plunged in depth. There was life in the pond too, tiny things darting about. Minnows, tadpoles, she did not know, but their presence reminded her about the variety and opportunistic nature of life.

She finished floating, swimming and observing, climbed out and let the sun’s warmth dry her. This was an idyllic spot for sure. Greg could not just sell it, wash his hands of the memories. It was too precious even though a financial drain. She wrapped and fastened the towel around herself picked up the t-shirt and made her way back to the patio where she could hear the music Greg had selected for play. 

He was sitting comfortably reading what looked like some novel while nursing a beer and listening to the music. 

“Did you enjoy the swim?”

“Oh yes, very relaxing on the one hand and almost energizing in a funny way on the other.”

“Good and when this album is finished I think we need to return to the apartment as Frank is preparing a meal in the bar, a sort of last supper.” 

At that callous remark Mellie almost burst into tears. Instead she turned away from Greg, went inside and put the t-shirt back on. Dammit, she was not going to leave in a bubbling state of mind.

As she had arrived at the farm earlier she decided to leave in the same way. She told Greg she and Sally would walk and he could pick them up when he caught up with them. He agreed. Mellie called for Sally and they set off at a leisurely pace. 

The music ended, Greg put the novel down and he cleaned up the few items he had used. He was ready to depart now but hesitated a bit longer giving Mellie more time to walk out and away from the farm. By the time he reached them, Mellie and Sally were almost out to the main road. 

“Hey girl, do you need a lift?”

“I thought you were never going to come along.”

“Oh just had a few things to clean up and put away.”

“How did you find your farm?”

“Luck I suppose. Actually Rose was the one who found it. I think a friend had mentioned something about a farm out this way for sale. As it turned out she found this one not the one the friend had referred to.”

As they drove Mellie asked, “Have you ever gone out East?”

“A couple of conferences and a bit of tourism. Not enough to get a really good sense of the place.”

“I will expect you to visit then when I get set up, wherever I get set up.”

Greg mustered up some enthusiasm to say, “For sure, I would enjoy an excursion out East.”

Mellie immediately saw through his excessive response and knew immediately Greg was tied to his life here. In leaving she probably would never see him again unless she made a decision to return. Who knew what was awaiting her return to her home town. She could not dowse what her future held.

They arrived at the apartment, climbed the stairs, entered and were greeted by many voices. The weekenders, including new friends and the band members had re-assembled to give Mellie a roaring send-off. Frank had been busy preparing a meal to be had in the bar, a place where everyone could spread out, relax  and enjoy themselves. It was a fine evening of food, drink, laughs and chat. Greg and Frank had cooked it all up and everyone was pleased to participate. As the evening wore on toasts were made to Mellie, essentially wishing her well in her future wherever it would meander. All evening she was close to tears but held them back.

Gradually the weekenders started to depart with hugs all around, but in particular for Mellie. She was so grateful for the evening and all that had happened in just two short weeks. Finally, she and Greg were left alone when Frank and Julie finally returned into the apartment. Mellie always had difficulty leaving. This was acutely difficult and although she appreciated the evening, it had made Tuesday’s departure even more wrenching.

They sat across a table and looked at each other for a time. Neither could say the words the other wanted to hear. Finally, Greg said he was tired, really just wanted to break the spell they were under, rose and started to make a motion toward the doorway back to the apartment. 

Mellie said, “I’m just going to sit here for a few moments more. I’ll get the lights and lock the door.”

Chapter 16

Greg woke early as usual even though this would be a most unusual day. He made some coffee but really did not know what else to do. This was it. She was going. In a couple of hours there was no turning back and going forward would, he was sure, involve heartache. Now he just wanted it to be over in a similar way he had wanted Rose to die after the injuries she suffered. Lingering, the uncertainty of when not if was hard to take, harder for the living than the dying, harder for those staying behind than for those going. To some extent her departure had become anti-climactic ever since her last walks to the farm and away from it. Still Greg new it was going to be more than difficult to see her climb the steps into the train.

Mellie remained in her bed for as long as she could. This had been a wonderful room she had come to feel a part of. Eventually though the clock moved forward and departure time was nearing. She rose, completed her final packing chores, hoisted the pack on her back and descended down the stairs dropping the pack at the door.

She found the others sitting at the trestle table not saying much, nursing cups of coffee, nibbling at snacks, a morose lot if she ever saw one. Surprisingly she felt good. She was off on another adventure. She was going home to the place where she had grown up all those years ago, to rekindle memories of a life left behind and to start again. She really did enjoy new beginnings. There was a real sense of discovery in the undertaking, exploring new situations, meeting new people, finding a job. She had the rest of her life to live and doing it out East was no bad place to do it. 

She joined them at the table, commented something about the apartment not being a morgue and tried to liven up the deadbeats, to no avail. They continued to drown in their cups of coffee. 

Greg finally asked, “Have you got everything? You are not leaving anything behind, any surprises for us in your room?” 

At that moment he was remembering her arrival, the train station context. This time it would be her departure.

At his question Mellie almost lost her composure. It only took a moment for her to realize she was leaving everything behind. Her upbeat attitude, tested by the downbeat group at the table, instantly evaporated. It happened so quickly she was not sure just what had happened. 

“Do you want something to eat now or to take along?” asked Julie. “Maybe a picnic lunch, some fruit?”

Struggling to understand what had been asked, Mellie finally said no, she would be fine. Food and travel did not go well for her. 

“Well then, we should probably make our way to the station.” Greg said. “It is rare, but sometimes trains are on time, even early. We should be there for whatever event occurs.” 

Greg then rose and went to his room to retrieve keys and a jacket for the cool morning. 

Hugs again, all around and a few “Yaaas.” Sally barked and Mellie dropped to her knees to give Sally a stroking. Greg hoisted the pack on his shoulder and they were going out the door as Frank said they would be out for the rest of the day. 

Greg placed the pack in the back of his pickup. They got in. He started the engine and they drove to the train station. It was all quite simple and straight forward, very mechanical really. He wondered what the emotional fuss was all about. Departure time would come, indeed it was here. She would get on the train and that would be the end, she would go away. 

The question Greg had asked earlier was now eating away at her. To leave now she could be nothing but mechanical. One foot forward then the next, then the next. Climb a few steps. No words. A wave. She would be gone. That was how she imagined her departure. That was how it had happened for her in the past.

The train was announced for track 2. Greg hoisted her pack and they made their way to the designated boarding point. The train came in and stopped. The doors were opened and steps lowered. There were about ten people lined up for boarding. Mellie was second in line. She just wanted to get on board and be done with it, with Greg and the others. 

“Let it be over,” she whispered. 

One foot forward, the other, the steps, she had done it. She gave Greg a little wave and disappeared to find her seat.

Greg looked at the doorway for a few moments and then realized it had actually happened. The pull of memories was strong and he lingered for a few moments. Then with others around oblivious to his emotional upheaval, he stood feeling quite alone on the platform. He turned away from the train and as he walked away waved at it. Mellie was in the middle of the car at her seat, saw him wave, saw him go and panicked. 

She could see the last person climbing on board. The isle was full of the new passengers trying to get settled.  The conductor was waving her arm. 

Suddenly Mellie began yelling, “Please, no I have to get off. Please let me pass.” 

It was a struggle, she made it to the doorway as the conductor was closing up. 

“No, let me off, I can’t go. “

The conductor said, “We are just about underway, girl. We have a schedule to keep.”

Mellie blurted out, “I have a life to retrieve. Let me off.”

Reluctantly the conductor used her phone, halted the departure, opened the door, lowered the steps and in the end was glad to let her off, whom she thought could have been a very troublesome passenger.

Mellie, with her pack, was once again arriving on the station platform. She looked around, could not see Greg, left the pack where it lay and ran through the station to the parking area in time to see the blue pickup disappear around a distant corner in the road. 

With head hung low and the train moving out of the station, she retrieved her pack and returned to the parking area to hopefully find a taxi. Eventually one wheeled into the taxi stand some twenty minutes later. She got in, told the driver the address and sat back to try to understand just exactly what she had done.

The taxi arrived at Greg’s  address. Mellie got out, paid the driver and walked the short distance to the apartment front door. She let herself in. The pickup was not in the garage. She climbed the stairs, went in, dropped her pack by the sofa, curled up and went to sleep.

Greg returned some hours later. He saw the door was not locked and thought Frank and Julie would have to be cautioned about leaving it open. He climbed the stairs, went in, hung his jacket on a hook and started toward the back of the apartment and his office. The past two weeks had been highly emotional and he understood, for the second time,  his feelings now required time to heel. 

He then saw the pack out of the corner of his eye. At first it was just something out of place and then it morphed into a pack. He stopped and turned. Mellie was sitting lotus style on the sofa watching him. She had heard him come in, saw him hang his jacket and start for the back of the apartment, watched him stop and turn. Now they were facing each other. 

Greg understood immediately or he thought he did. He had been wrong. Slowly he walked toward Mellie, not wanting to go too quickly for fear he might scare the illusion away. He got to the sofa. They remained locked on each other’s eyes. Mellie did not move. Slowly he bent over her and kissed her forehead. Immediately, as if by explosion, Mellie flung her arms around Greg’s neck, locking herself on, never wanting to let go and kissed Greg hard on the mouth. He responded and as he straightened a bit his arms found their way around her waist. Their lips parted and Mellie simply nestled into his chest and shoulder. Not a word had been said. 

Finally, Greg spoke, softly, gently, “This is the beginning of the rest of the story.”