Category Archives: motherlode

When garlic welcomes more than it wards off

So the garlic is back. It’s the whack-a-mole of my yard. Dad had a huge garlic patch — picture the dimensions of a king-size bed — and he used to rotate it around the garden. Where I poke things in … Continue reading

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What you find in loss

The first clue was the toothbrushes. In my bathroom one morning I saw five extra ones, neatly slotted into the holders, making themselves at home. I smiled. Jill is one of my dearest friends, and the past few months have … Continue reading

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I’m only thinking of the children

There’s a reason they tell you to sell your house in the spring. The grass has come in but not the weeds, the gardens are bursting with long-established perennials that haven’t drooped in the August heat and chances are good … Continue reading

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That summer when Motherlode didn’t sell her house

I knew the exact moment I had had enough. I was on my hands and knees beside my house carefully clipping the grass around my air conditioner unit with scissors. With my house on the market, I had an open … Continue reading

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Tell me again why I’m going?

It wasn’t a premeditated theft, though it was a crime of opportunity. I was putting out my recycling when I spied my neighbour doing the same thing. “Quinton!” I hollered. “Do you have a coffee table?” He paused. “Yes.” I’m … Continue reading

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Motherlode becomes a stage mother, sort of

I have never bought a house before, unless you count the time my parents sold me theirs. There were no real estate agents involved, no listing, no closing, no negotiating and no mortgage for several months. Now I’m learning how … Continue reading

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You can’t go home again, but you can take it with you

“So, how’s it feel living on your own?” asked a neighbour. “How would I know?” I replied. “I’ve had a man show up here every day at 8:30 in the morning for six weeks.” I see more of Jeff than … Continue reading

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The sale of houses, the cycles of homes

When we moved into this house, Christopher, now 25, was just 4. It was his grandparents’ house, so he was of course familiar with it, but the idea that we were moving here for keeps was a very big deal. … Continue reading

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Cat scratch fever and the great escape

Two of my cats are rescues from Egypt. They are nuts, especially Mark, who is huge and lean and retains much feralness deep in his DNA. Egyptian street cats should not be adopted here in Canada, no matter how adorable … Continue reading

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Back to beige

I’m painting the house beige, again. It was always beige on my mother’s watch, because she liked things to match and be nondisruptive. I do not do beige. I used to do all the painting for her because my father … Continue reading

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