The Slower Pace of Life

Does it Really Exist?

By Catherine Canzani

I’m all for enjoying a slower pace of life; that’s why I live in the country. But when the snow starts to melt, and the first crocuses push through the half-frozen ground, my world suddenly goes into over-drive.

Spring brings a whole different set of circumstances to my life. The white, crisp snow melts to reveal plenty of “ready-to-jump-into” mud, welcomed by both my children and thenew puppy. (I think I’m going to have to reconsider the white couch covers). My entrance carpet is littered with pine needles, and there is a vast array of rubber boots, winter boots, sandals, running shoes, spring jackets, winter jackets and hats thrown here and there in mismatched piles. The kids have replaced homework with “trampoline time”, and can barely be lured inside to eat supper. But that’s not what’s really throwing me off.

I came home from school last week to find the back yard littered with bikes of all makes and models. They were leaned against the shop, held up on stands, leaning on chairs, and in the midst of it all stood my husband, Stéphane, grinning happily. “Business has started! It must be Spring!” he told me. His hands were already black from the three tune-ups he had done. Don’t get me wrong, I’m always glad when spring comes and the bike shop gets busy, but I’m also very aware of the fact that for the next several weeks, it’s just the kids and me, flying solo, while Stéphane hunkers down in the shop, trying to stay on top of all the bikes.

I felt the change instantly and in many different ways. There was no one to greet me when I got home, no supper made, no one but me to tackle the Mount Everest of laundry accumulating in the basement. But the beauty of living in the country is that when it all seems like too much, and the stress levels are at the max, you can grab the kids, the bikes and the puppy and head out into nature, which is exactly what I did.

As I walked my little parade of three kids, two bikes and a dog down the hill towards the big, open field, I could already feel the tension falling off me. We got to the field, and let the puppy off his leash. He dashed around like a rocket, creating giggles all around. Soon Laura was singing into a stick/microphone, belting out the lyrics to “ Pretty lady”, her version of “Pretty Woman”. We walked further and noticed that a tiny pond had been formed from the melting snow. The puppy dove in and jumped back out even faster when he felt the temperature of the water. More giggles.

We heard the sound of, “Watch this!” from up in the field. Before we knew it, Miles came shooting past us on his bike, straight for the icy pond. He hit the water at full speed. It fanned up into his face, drenching him. He rode around the pond, his billy boots almost filling with water. The puppy barked, wanting to get to Miles, but knowing the water was too cold. Suddenly there was a yelp and a splash, and there was Miles, sitting in the pond, water up to his waist, only the handlebars of his bike sticking out of the water. By now we were all laughing uncontrollably.

“Time to go home, I guess,” I said, glancing at Miles’ dripping pants. I felt Olivia’s hand slip into mine as we turned to head home. I looked down at her smiling face. Her heart-covered stuffed animal frog was safely tucked into her jacket so he wouldn’t fall into the river when we crossed the bridge.