Judy P's Tickle Trunk

For God’s sake, somebody pinch me. No, harder than that! Surely I must be dreaming. Today is July 1st and I don’t have the ‘back to work dreads’. This is no vacation my dears, this is official retirement.  On Friday I saw my last patient, wrote my last chart note, packed up my goniometer and let the rehab door hit me on the way out. As Grammy Parsons might have said “Thank the Blessed Saviour!” It hasn’t really sunk in yet. My friends say that they can see a change – the absence of the furrowed brow, the new self-satisfied grin, the “whatever” attitude I’m sporting. The weight of the past 22 years of work has suddenly been lifted. It’s a wonder I don’t float away, like the buns of the happy baker in the story in my grade school reader, which were so light that they had to be fastened to strings so that they wouldn’t drift off. There’s a glint in my eye, a smirk in my smile, and a spring in my step. That’s a good thing, the spring I mean, because I have been up and down the steep steps to the hay loft a thousand times since yesterday morning.

The hay loft houses my new studio. It’s rustic – rough sawn board floors, walls and rafters with bits of hay and swallow’s nests, but it is heaven to me; a dream come true.

My parent’s first home in Pilley’s Island was a loft, a store loft converted to a living space. It was built on pilings right out over the landwash. My current loft is not a store but a barn but it is also over the water, though not on pilings. It is safely perched on the bank of the Mersey River. I love to look out over the fresh running water and the hardwoods which line its banks. There is an old pine crag across the river where eagles like to perch and there are almost always a few ducks paddling about. This week we have a loon visiting.

Flora – the view from my studio early spring.

and fauna….

……… and more fauna.

Loon

The smell of the bare rough wood of the hay loft fills me with a sense of adventure. It reminds of the places we explored as kids; old barns, fishing stages, and best of all, abandoned sawmills. I recall the dim golden light filtered through dirty windows, the smell of sawdust and slabs, and the eerily quiet massive wood-cutting machinery. I wished then that I could set up little play-spaces or copy-houses in there but that would increase the risk of getting caught and besides, the older boys would find the stuff and destroy it. I waited a long time get the chance to occupy such a space.

The hay loft, thanks to Pete for braving the bird poop and bugs and cleaning it up so nicely.

So here it is. Now I just have to be careful not to get stuck in “setting up” mode so that I can move on to make some art. The other side of the barn is full of clutter and junk and thus far I have only a few of my art supplies brought out.  It is still very much a work in progress. Thank you to my colleagues who bought me a Keurig as part of my retirement gift. It is installed in the studio and the reservoir is filled and it is ready to brew. The caffeine should counteract the effects of the rocking chair.

We added windows on the river side.

A cosy corner to contemplate my work.

I hid a CD player inside this old record player/radio cabinet.

I lined the rafters with an old sail to keep the birds from pooping on my head and to reflect a little more light.

Another door opens.

Happy Canada Day.

(c) Judy Parsons 2013

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