Once again, the weeks have passed by all in a rush, and we’re starting the final run-in to the end of the year. For many of us, that period will bring with it the joys and festivities of Christmas, and if you count yourself in that number then I wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

As does John Lennon, albeit posthumously, and Elton John. And José Feliciano. And Slade. And all the others whose voices fill the shops, malls and radio waves at this time of year. Or the streets.

Charlottetown hosted a ‘Victorian Christmas’ street market last weekend, all braziers and horse-drawn carriages, hot mulled cider and decorated cookies, pottery and cards, etcetera etcetera. It was all very festive and was located on the street right outside our apartment. Which was very convenient as we could wander down at leisure and have a look around. Sadly, the music tent was literally under our window, and so the inconvenience was that we had three days listening to off-key renditions of Hallelujah. The great LC must have been spinning in his grave.

The gardening year came to an end with a blowout sale from one of our local gardening shops. They have a huge online sales presence, and since mid-September my e-mail has been full of flyers advertising the ‘end-of-summer’ sale, the ‘end-of-season’ sale, the ‘20% off fall’ sale, the ‘50% off spring bulbs’ sale, the ‘70% off – final sale’, and so on. The trick is not to get sucked in.

If you have patience, and nerves of steel, and a willingness to accept whatever is left over, then eventually they ship all their remaining bulbs to a warehouse out by the airport, and for three days everything goes at $3 a bag. I set myself a maximum of $100, because it’s a bit like being in a casino and it’s easy to get carried away. Luckily, they only take cash, so it is possible to stick to one’s limit. Anyway, I spent my money, lugged everything out to the car, and then spent all the next weekend planting 700+ bulbs. Even if I only get a 75% germination rate, I reckon the garden will look pretty spectacular in the spring.

Other than scrabbling in the dirt, I’ve not done much else in the garden. We’ve had some skiffs of snow, but nothing has stayed on the ground, and the earth hasn’t frozen yet. In fact, we seem to have had nothing but rain! I’m still picking leeks and carrots straight from their beds, although we’ll likely pull all those over the next week or so and put them in cool storage for the winter. There has been a skim of ice on the pond (no, I didn’t test it for strength) and the flowering grasses are glorious in all their feathered glory.

I’m looking forward to the next few weeks. It’s not just the anticipation of Christmas, it’s also that our application was accepted and so Victoria and I will be selling our books at the Artisan Christmas Market on December 10 and December 17 at the Charlottetown Farmers Market. Please drop by and say hello if you’re on the Island!

Meanwhile, I’m working on three new ones. Another Rashford novel, which might well be the finale for that series; a dystopian novel exploring Island life a decade hence, if we keep on the way we’re going; and, an autobiography of sorts. The last one should be fun – for some reason my parents kept all the letters I sent them, as did a good friend who passed away a couple of years ago, and these have now all come into my possession. I’ve been putting them in chronological order, and now I’m slowly reading my way through my life, from the mid-70s to the very recent past, and shaking my head at stories I had long since forgotten (and some I hadn’t!). I think this will be my ‘next winter’ project, once I’ve got the next two novels finished.

The good news is that my job has been advertised at last, so hopefully someone will come forward and claim it! I’ve agreed to stay on until someone is recruited, or 30 June 2024, whichever comes earliest. Then I can refocus on painting, writing, the garden, and other (more leisurely) pursuits, like enjoying the bounty of the sea that surrounds our little island.

Indeed, I was going to do that last week, and thought I would get myself a half-dozen oysters for a half-time snack while watching the football (soccer). Sadly, I found that another denizen of the local deep had other ideas and was holding ‘my’ oysters in a protective embrace. I guess I should have switched to calamari …