Alex D.
Have you ever had a job that changed your life forever? I did. It wasn't a particularly well paying job and the commute was long, but I had a summer job that decidedly changed the course of my life. I was an Heritage Interpreter at the Ukrainian Village, east of Elk Island, and I was terrified of public speaking. This fear had even held me back from becoming a teacher, just like my grand parents. I wanted nothing more than to share stories, teach history, and debate ideas. I even enrolled in a Bachelor of Education at MacEwan. However, when I reflected upon my fear of public speaking, I decided to change degrees and declare an Anthropology major. Tutoring was one thing, managing a class was entirely another. So, I moved on. I become incredibly passionate about studying cultural history through Archaeology and never looked back. I travelled to Japan for a field study and Peru for my honour's research. I had an exciting academic career, but the 'real' world was very different.
I struggled to find work in my field and finally, desparately took a job as a Heritage Interpreter. It was my job to guide classes of students around the living museum during the week and tourists on the weekend. I don't even really remember the first tour I did. I remember scrambling to begin and then gradually filling a 45 minute tour with everything I found most interesting about the site. I just talked about what I loved, stories, histories, ideas, and my passion was contagious. I will brag a little and say that I even received applause at the end of my tours. On a few memorable occasions I even started an Ukrainian dance among strangers. We all clapped a beat and kicked out feet and had a blast. I found that it was easy to talk about the things I cared about when others cared about it too. They paid to be there, that is how much they cared for the experience. Needless to say, it is an easy crowd to win over.
When I wasn't providing tours I was a costumed interpreter at the rural community grocery store. I played the role of Maggie, the daughter of the store owner in 1929. My days usually went as followed: I arrive and unlock my historic building. I grab the metal bucket and walk down the road to the community hall where they have a plumbing. After I fetch the water, I run over to the farming community to gather a few eggs for breakfast. Usually, I share a casual morning conversation with the interpreters there, but we are all busy going about our chores. When I get back to the grocery store, I start a fire in the wood burning stove and chop some wood to replace what I use. Then I take a tea cup and water the garden. I gather some fresh dill and onion as I go. Once the stove it hot enough, I put the kettle on the top and a pot of water to boil my eggs. There are bags of food delivered to us each morning for our 'public' meal. We cook a meal while we interpret, but that is usually closer to lunch time. The morning was usually mine. Often, the school house principle, and my dear friend, would join me for breakfast and tea. We could watch for the first visitors to arrive and he would race across the field back to school.
After the students climbed back on their buses and went back to school, it was dead silent. I would clean up the kitchen and dust the grocery items, but that only spent an hour. Then, I spent many lonely hours playing solitaire, cross stitching, and darning stockings out of boredom. I often sat out the back and watched the birds in the garden. It was a welcome distraction for a guest to arrive at the store and a challenge to keep them there as long as possible, or else the excitement would end. Another delightful distraction was another interpreter stopping by. We would ask each other about the day, the weather, the events in our life.
As the summer stretched, I could see the subtle changes in the garden each morning as I watered. Taste the different flavours of the herbs and leafs. It was a cause of great excitement when I got a new bloom. I hardly wanted to leave the garden, so I tried to lure them into the neat rows with me. I shared my joy nurturing the greens with people of all ages. Children became entrances while weeding and adults reminisced of their own childhood spend out in the yard at their grandparents.
Before this summer, I had never kept a green thing alive before. Any house plant gifted to me was a death sentence. But my issue was one of neglect and ignorance. Once I spent time in the garden I came to know these plants and enjoyed the bounty of my labour. Gardening became my new passion. I wanted to get to know all the plants and learn how to harvest anything I could. Teaching and gardening grew on me. Their influence a stone tossed into the still water. Teaching history has led me to become an educational programmer at the Musee Heritage Museum, a place where I can grow my own roots with a community of strong women. Gardening, has led me to really open my eyes to nature and all the beauty and diversity it shares with me. My goals in life have changed towards a more subsistence based diet and ultimately hunting, forging, gardening, and one day raising my own chickens.
Gardening doesn't have to be a huge plot or your whole yard. Even just growing a few herbs in your kitchen window will provide you will fresh flavours and offer some joy and connection to the food you eat year round.
Come back Thursday for a the story of my first deer hunt! Until next time, stay wild.