The Log Farm

Thanksgiving was on Monday, October 9th, and it was the perfect autumn day for the holiday — cold, cloudy, and raining. Before that, it had already been raining for days and the kids had been stuck at home, so we thought it would be refreshing to spend the afternoon outdoors — we went to The Log Farm — before coming back home to celebrate the grand turkey.

I’m proud of myself for being efficient. I’d put the turkey in the oven early in the morning knowing that we’d do an afternoon activity, so that by the time we came back home the main dish was already prepped, with only a few side dishes to cook. Timing was perfect; the kids got to spend time outdoors at the farm and supper was ready just in time for hungry bellies.

I didn’t expect to see fellow guests at The Log Farm when we’d arrived, either; after all, it had been raining nonstop throughout the day. But when I saw fellow families bringing in their kids with their rain boots and umbrellas, I felt an immediate sense of comfort and warmth.

“There are other families braving the rain, too,” I thought.

“We’re all in it together.”

The wagon ride this time was really an autumn one. It had been raining and our bums were wet on the seat, and I held an umbrella over Gaia in her car seat the whole way through, but everything felt so right.

The leaves were their quintessential autumn colours; the weather was wet and rainy; the temperature was cold and crisp; and the wind was so relaxing, all worries had been forgotten. It was so cozy that Gaia fell asleep during the wagon ride, too.

Besides playing at his usual play barn, Keaton also fed goats. He loves feeding the animals here every time we visit.

The last activity we did on the farm was walk through scarecrow lane to spot all the funky scarecrows. This was my favourite part of the visit — being purely in nature among trees. With it finally looking and feeling like autumn, I was the happiest version of myself at this very moment.

This was supposed to be a mom giving her two kids a bath. So cute.

Last year, my parents and I had posed with this family of scarecrows (I was pregnant with Gaia).

The farm was about to close, so we had to scurry back shortly after our foresty walk. I really didn’t want to leave so soon.

Pink Lake, Gatineau Park

It was our first time at Pink Lake in Gatineau Park. We got off on the wrong footing — it wasn’t obvious which coordinates to insert in the GPS — but when we came around the second time, we saw a black bear along the side of the road, which retreated back to the forest when it saw us. I was fascinated because it was the first time I’d seen one.

“It’s a sign that we should go back,” my husband said.

It was almost a synchronistic encounter. Before we left the house, I’d read about black bears in Gatineau Park. This is because I like to understand and be aware of my environment and surroundings, and more so as a mom now. Safety is always paramount.

Just as I’d thought, though, it’s indeed often the case that black bears simply avoid human interaction. But, as visitors and guests visiting their habitat, it was important for us to be mindful of their home, and essentially, of our own safety.

(We didn’t go back home. We went ahead with our excursion.)

Pink Lake was breathtaking. It wasn’t pink, though. It was named Pink Lake in honour of the Pink family from Ireland who’d settled here back in 1826.

The lake is actually a deep blue-green colour due to the abundance of algae. Moreover, it’s in fact a meromictic lake, which means that the layers of waters don’t mix and mingle.

Looking into the lake was almost like looking into someone’s eyes. There was mystery in the translucence. Seeing the reflection of all the surrounding nature was like seeing a whole universe.

Here you could see the reflection of the clouds and surrounding trees.

The lake was especially beautiful here with its green hue.

We didn’t encounter any black bears during our hike, thankfully. Yet even if nature herself can be unpredictable and unfeeling, the unsettling part of the experience wasn’t that. It was our son.

While the lake was breathtaking and I longed deeply for healing and refuge being in nature, I still couldn’t bask in the moment. There was a stark contrast — a mocking juxtaposition between the peaceful scenery and the misery that lived in me.

We didn’t hike the whole trail and had to leave because our boy couldn’t, and wouldn’t, listen. He kept walking off ahead of us and inching closer to where he shouldn’t. Rather than enjoying the scenery and hike as a family, my husband and I were filled with stress and anxiety. Everything had become a safety hazard. The battle was constant.

There was nothing left of me in my life that was mine. After becoming a mom, what I needed most was a simple walk in nature, and even then it’s become an impossible feat. While being in nature when I was young meant that I could sense freedom, as a mom now going back there leaves me feeling a sense of hopelessness. So, I broke down and cried at the lookout.

There’s loss in knowing that for the time being, I can’t bridge the two greatest loves of my life: nature and my children. Gaia is very easygoing, so the challenge isn’t there with her. It’s rather with my dear boy. And the most painful part of it all is just the fact that I’d wanted to share this sweet moment with him, but I couldn’t because he wouldn’t let me.

Keaton is a special kid. He’s hyper-intelligent and his problem-solving skills are out of this world, with a brain of a seasoned engineer since his early days. He’s also very kind and feeling. Yet he can also be difficult to a degree that’s humanly unbearable to handle.

Despite the messy parts, there’s not a time when I want to be apart from him. Instead, I long to have him experience life to the fullest with me because we’re a team, and I owe it to him to give him a healthy life of growth and self-awareness.

Proulx Farm

Keaton did better the following days. He knew him and his baby sister were getting their flu shots — I’d prepared him for it — so the morning we went in, he was ready.

Both kids did amazing; neither of them had cried. Keaton was older and knew what was going on, and why. As for baby Gaia, she kept looking at the nurse and smiling while getting her vaccine.

We were so proud of Keaton when he’d told the nurse not to hurt his sister. He’s become so protective of her, which is so reassuring and endearing for my worried heart. He even asked to see our “bobo,” a reflection of worry and concern that’s deeply characteristic of him.

The kids were a bit tired and low-energy following their vaccines, but we still went to a farm because it made us all happy. This was our second visit of the season to Proulx Farm, and again, it was such an adventuresome place to be.

The last time we’d visited, it felt like a hot summer day; now, leaves abound and temperatures are colder.

With the abundance of leaves, I even collected some to put in the kids’ journals.

Gaia’s first time in a pile of autumn leaves!

At the end of our visit, we went to the pumpkin patch to pick our free pumpkins, which was really appreciated, because at this point, the squirrels had already eaten most of the dozen or so pumpkins in our yard.

It was a fun day with the kids, but it was also a confusing and tiring one for me — physically, mentally, emotionally. Funnily, I didn’t even know if I was going to make it through the day alive.

“Something’s off with me,” I told my husband.

Lately, besides the sporadic gushing nose bleeds — only from my right nostril — I’ve also been experiencing whooshing sounds and vibrations in my right ear. The morning of the farm visit, I’d suddenly woken up to intense neck pain that connected to my head, which made it impossible for me to reach out my hand without sharp pain. Later in the day, my tailbone also started hurting — so much so, I was in pain just standing up from sitting position.

Yet, I found myself at the farm. I guess I’m not normal in that regard. Normal people if in pain, rest and take it easy. Me if I’m in pain, I continue on as if nothing’s happening. Maybe that’s how I’ll croak?

“At least it’ll be in nature and I’ll retreat to the other side happily,” I reason.