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It's a day of Days

It's a hot, humid day at the farmette already. I was out watering my beds at the crack of frickin' and had to wear long sleeves and pants because of the mosquitoes. Also sweat like a bugger because of the temperature. Need a nap already.


Anyhow. Today is a day of Days. So I thought I'd do a rundown on all the festivities:


Summer Solstice:

Normally, a whole whack of people (like 100,000) assemble at Stonehenge to see the sunrise on the longest day of the year. And apparently, despite it not being open to the public because of COVID-19, some showed up anyway and celebrated outside the fence. In full costume. In the wind and driving rain, because this is, after all, England. They are the faithful. Many, many more faithful folks (like 3.6 million) live-streamed the dawn from the comfort of their homes.

National Indigenous People's Day:

It's a day designated by the government in 1996 to celebrate First Nations, Inuit and Metis people and their culture. It'd be great if we could treat our Indigenous people properly and respectfully every day of the year. I know our relatives out west would really, really appreciate it.

Our niece Wanda Wilson is actually the President of the Saskatchewan Indigenous Culture Centre, and she's a corker. A no-nonsense, strong woman with a wicked sense of humour. I met her in person for the first time in 2014, when we went out west for a reunion.


She has five children and a whole passel of grandchildren. All of them showed up to the shindig, along with cousins by the dozens. Rob's brother Bill is the mushum of the gigantic family and Vickie, the kokum. So glad to have had them at the gathering. Both have died since, but leave a legacy of passionate, funny, caring people in their kids and kids' kids.

Margaret's birthday:

The one that started this whole Wilson family ball rolling was also born on June 21, 1911. Margaret - Bill's and Rob's and Iain's and Anne's mom - was such a sweetheart.


I only knew her in her later years, but she stayed sparky right up to the end. With a soft brogue that she never quite lost, Maggie loved life and her whole, extended family. She was a talented, compassionate teacher who dedicated herself to raising children with learning disabilities to their highest potential.


She, too, had a sharp sense of humour and laser-focused sense of justice. Many, many Canadians owe a huge debt to the wee Scottish lass. Including me. Love you and still miss you Maggie.


Until next week.



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