Ballrooms to Barn Boots

Everyday life continues here on the Funny Farm — and yes, this blog post is landing a few days later than our usual schedule. Between a trip to Toronto (which I’ll get to shortly) and a few other unexpected things we had to take care of, time slipped by faster than I anticipated.

But here we are.

And it will surprise absolutely no one on this side of Canada that we are still very much in a winter wonderland.

While friends and family back in Nanaimo, BC are talking about daffodils and cherry blossoms starting to peek up, we are still a couple of feet under snow. Instead of flowers, we’re admiring icicles hanging off the roof. Daytime temperatures are finally creeping above zero, but nights are still dipping down to minus 14 or minus 18. It’s that in-between time of year — not deep winter, not quite spring — when the days soften but the cold hasn’t let go.

This is the beginning of maple syrup season around here. The warmer days and freezing nights are what get the sap flowing, which is why sugar bushes across the region are being tapped right now. We haven’t tapped our own maples — mostly because we’ve got enough on our plates — but it’s nice to know the season is quietly shifting, even if the snowbanks don’t show it yet.

The last couple of weeks have been a bit of a shift in focus — at least for me.

Addy has been doing what he always does: holding down the homestead, keeping up with the usual chores, and working on the organic farm down the road. They’re doing winter deliveries for the first time this year, and while it’s busy, the schedule has been a little more relaxed than their summer season.

Before the Toronto trip, the weekend after the last blog post was Valentine’s Day.

Instead of doing a traditional dinner date, we opted to turn it into a friends’ evening — appetizers, champagne, and a whole lot of laughter. It felt like the perfect way to celebrate in the middle of winter.

Everyone brought something to snack on, we popped a bottle (or two), and played a game called Buzzed. Hilarious does not quite cover it. Let’s just say it was one of those games that reveals things you didn’t necessarily plan on sharing — and the laughter only got louder as the night went on.

It’s easy this time of year to hibernate and stick to routines, especially when the snowbanks are high and the evenings are long. So making time for a night like that — good friends, good food, and absolutely no chores — felt important.

And honestly? That might be one of my favourite kinds of Valentine’s celebrations.

The same weekend as Valentine’s Day was Family Day, and since it was supposed to be sunny and mild (by our standards), we wanted to take advantage of it and get outside.

We invited our friend Constance and her daughter Skye to join us for skating at Killarney Lake. It turned out to be one of those crisp, bright winter afternoons that make you forget how long the season has felt.

It was Addy’s first time skating on a natural surface, and afterward he said, “It wasn’t that bad!” High praise, honestly.

We skated for about an hour — long enough to feel it in our legs but not long enough to regret it — and then headed to Starbucks for coffee together. Cold cheeks, warm drinks, and easy conversation. It was simple and fun, and exactly what Family Day should feel like.

Meanwhile, I was living in two completely different worlds… for a bit.

I had been invited to Toronto for an awards gala as my best friend’s plus one, which meant formal wear. Real formal wear. The kind that requires thought.

So there I was — making little piles. Dress options pile. Shoe options pile. Toiletries pile. “Just in case” pile. All while still working my job and doing chores like normal. I originally planned to travel with just a carry-on. That plan lasted until I tried to fit everything inside it.

Formal wear does not pack small.

I ended up checking a bag, and Addy was standing there looking at me like, “How much do you need for a three-night stay in Toronto?”

And I just looked back at him and said, “Well, since you have no hair, and don’t wear make-up, you wouldn’t understand.”

Thankfully, the weather at home softened just enough to make chores a bit easier before I left. When daytime temperatures hover around minus four to plus three, we don’t have to be quite as diligent about breaking water buckets. At minus four, the animals can usually break the ice themselves. That felt like a small seasonal victory.

Another shift we’ve noticed is the daylight. With longer days, the chickens in the big coop have finally started laying again. We’ve been getting two to three Bresse chicken eggs a day, and it feels so good to have farm-fresh eggs back on our own counter.

And now — the ducks have started laying too.

Duck eggs are actually my favourite. If I had to choose, I could happily give up chicken eggs entirely for duck eggs. The yolk-to-white ratio is incredible. They’re richer, silkier, and absolutely perfect for soft-boiled eggs with toasted dipping soldiers. Chef’s kiss.

There’s something so satisfying about cracking open a duck egg and seeing that deep golden yolk. After months of winter quiet in the coop, having both chickens and ducks contributing again feels like a proper turning point.

Before I even left for Toronto, I was reminded again how lucky I am to have Addy. We couldn’t do this lifestyle without each other. When I travel, I’m essentially handing him the keys to the entire operation — animals, chores, routines — and saying, “Okay, buddy, bye! I’m off to a party.”

He was completely happy to take it on. That’s not a small thing.

The travel itself went smoothly. Direct flight to Toronto. No lost luggage (miraculously, even with Air Canada). And for the first time, I used the UP Express train to downtown Toronto. Thirteen dollars and thirty minutes later, I was stepping off the train across from Union Station and walking straight into the Fairmont Royal York.

The hotel was elegant and historic. The room was small but well-appointed — marble bathroom, mini bar fridge fully stocked, coffee station, the usual. The strangest thing? No guest fridge. Only the bar fridge, and a note saying not to use it for personal items.

You could request one… for a $25 delivery fee.

Twenty-five dollars. For a fridge. In a high-end hotel.

We decided to skip it. We drank our wine over ice.

The gala itself? You might as well have told me I was attending the Grammys.

Six hundred people in a grand ballroom. A full stage. A dance floor. Professional lighting. They even hired a host from eTalk Canada to emcee the event for Fairstone Bank, Home Trust, Eden Park, and affiliates. She was polished, hilarious, and kept the energy moving all night.

The pacing was excellent — awards, dinner, more awards, breaks to mingle. I chose the braised prime rib, served with greens and garlic potatoes. It was butter-knife tender. Wine flowed freely, and I had to politely decline a few top-ups because it would have been very easy to get tipsy with such attentive service.

My best friend didn’t win her nomination, but afterward she admitted she was slightly relieved not to have to walk on stage in front of 600 people. We called that a win.

After the ceremony, there was dancing and even a room set up like an upscale arcade — foosball, basketball hoops, giant games like Pac-Man. It was unexpected and fun. We didn’t stay too late. We were eager to peel off our painted faces and kick off our heels.

Sunday was slow and easy — and an amazing complimentary brunch, a tiny bit of shopping (mostly more wine, because why not?), face masks, and uninterrupted conversation. No schedule. No rushing.

It was glamorous and fun.

But Monday morning meant heading home — and, for me, into a nor’easter.

Atlantic Canada was bracing for a storm. Fredericton was expecting 10 to 15 centimetres of snow with strong winds. The first leg of my flight was fine, but somewhere between Ottawa and Fredericton, a passenger asked the flight attendant if there was any guarantee we’d actually land.

“There’s no guarantee,” he replied. “We won’t know until we’re over Fredericton.”

Big sigh.

Looking out the window, snow was flying sideways. The landing was firm — one of those “we are committed to this runway” landings — but we made it. There was that almost-clap moment when everyone realized we were safely down.

And then — back on the Funny Farm.

I think the one who missed me the most was Bucky, our little terrier. (Okay, Addy missed me too.) But Bucky made his feelings very clear.

It felt good to be home.

I love the glitz and glamour of the city — for a visit. But I am a country girl. Around here, a traffic jam means seeing three other cars headed in the same direction. The dress code is insulated boots. The soundtrack is wind in the trees.

Coffee in the morning. Chores together. Cutting our time in half because we’re both there.

While I was away, Addy didn’t slow down. He sorted through our enormous craft supply collection, organizing and prepping for what we hope will eventually become production mode for local craft markets. He also brought home extra locally grown blue oyster mushrooms from his employer’s winter deliveries and experimented with freezing and dehydrating them to see what we prefer.

So while I was in marble bathrooms and ballrooms, he was organizing, preserving, and keeping everything running.

We really do make a good team.

While I was travelling to Toronto, Addy had his own social event to attend — a little closer to home.

Al’s birthday.

It was a special one. Not because of the number, but because for a small period of time, right before the holiday season, he was so ill we genuinely didn’t know if he’d make it. It was scary. And now, seeing him upright, celebrating another year, feels like a gift.

We are so grateful he pulled through.

I’m really glad Addy was able to be there to help him celebrate. We even got to use our embroidery machine to make him a custom apron that says, “I’d smoke that…” — perfect for a man who plans to smoke all kinds of delicious food this year.

And because we can’t resist a good laugh, Addy also bought him a Toronto Maple Leafs shirt that says, “Just. Just once before I die!”

We thought it was hilarious.

Sometimes the best celebrations aren’t about big numbers — they’re about getting another year you weren’t sure you’d have.

The goats are content, still thick and fluffy in their winter coats, and our does are getting rounder by the day. All five girls are pregnant now, and if I had to guess, I’d say we’re looking at three sets of twins and two singletons. Time will tell, but it’s always fun to speculate.

March is just around the corner, which means kidding season prep is officially underway. April will be here before we know it.

We’ve started making our list: stall clean-up, fresh bedding, gathering all the supplies into one grab-and-go bag so we’re not scrambling in the middle of the night. Hoof trimming needs to happen soon, and we’re mentally preparing for the busy season ahead.

There’s something exciting about this stage — the calm before the tiny hooves hit the ground.

Between travelling, keeping up with still-frozen water buckets, shovelling snow, and adjusting back into routine, it’s been a full couple of weeks — but a great one. The icicles are dripping in the afternoons. The maple trees are being tapped down the road. The chickens are laying again. The ducks are laying. There are small signs everywhere that winter is loosening its grip, even if we’re still very much wrapped in it.

Toronto was sparkle and bright lights. Home is snow boots and hay bales — and any kind of eggs with perfectly golden yolks. Both have their place. There’s a quiet kind of momentum building beneath the snow. We’ll get to spring soon enough.

For now, we’re exactly where we’re meant to be.

Thank you so much to everyone who read through this update — even if it’s a few days late. Better late than never, right? Hopefully, it wasn’t a dollar short, and you enjoyed catching up on our lives here on the Funny Farm and a little beyond it.

Until next time, friends 🤍