WWI Memorial – A Brooding Soldier

Canada entered World War I as a colony and came out a nation…
- Bruce Hutchison, Canadian Journalist -

We’ve been to Europe a number of times. (I know that sounds like a big deal, but we were living in England at the time.) On one of our trips we visited a number of  WWI cemeteries and monuments in Belgium and France. I was looking for a cemetery that contained soldiers who had died on the same day that my Grandpa’s brother, Henry, had been reported missing in battle. (Read In Flanders Fields for the story of my family in WWI.)

Near St. Julien we found the Canadian Memorial of The Brooding Soldier.  The bowed head and shoulders of a Canadian soldier with folded hands resting on arms reversed was carved from an 11 metre high piece of granite. It appears to be meditating about the battle in which his comrades displayed such great valour – a battle where the Canadian, British and French Armies met an enemy that launched the first ever large-scale gas attack.

Each fall I am reminded of that visit to Brussels and the St. Julien Soldier when I see the drooping heads and leaves of my sunflowers. The first light dusting of snow makes the large flower head bend – a Brooding Sunflower.

A heavy frost assaults, but doesn’t quite kill.

But as the weather gets colder, the sunflower admits defeat. Winter wins another war.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Fleeting Moment

The playground in our Cabin Community. Children playing. Mothers nearby – watching, talking. Can you spot what makes this Fleeting Moment so unique?

The women are all wearing long dresses and head scarves. They belong to one of the many Hutterite Colonies found in our province.

We are extremely fortunate to have several Colonies near our Cabin. Once a week in the summer they bring vegetables and baking to sell to the cabin owners. Our family is particularly happy when the peas arrive – we buy several bags each time, then spend the rest of the afternoon shelling and eating the little green morsels inside the pods.

Once a year, on  Canada Day, the Hutterite families take part in our little Canada Day Parade. They ride on the fire trucks, and throw candy to the crowds. For just a few hours our very different lives intertwine.

Canada – 145 Years Old

Happy Birthday, Canada!

The Canada I know best has big mountains, and on a clear day I can see them from my back yard. (But not this big. I have to drive for about an hour to see them up close and personal.)

My part of Canada has clear, fresh running water in uncountable lakes, streams and rivers.  (Except right now, which  is flood season here in Alberta. The water is pretty muddy, and we’re hoping the cabin doesn’t get flooded.)

My Canada has  four distinct seasons.  This is my yard in the winter when everything is coated in a blanket of snow.

Until I came to Canada I never knew ‘snow’ was a four letter word.
-Alberto Manguel-

I could go on and on, but instead, go to these two posts to find out more about Canada and Canadians:

- 144 Years Old and Going Strong!  -  a glimpse into how our family celebrates Canada’s birthday.

- if you don’t know any Canadians, but would like to,  be sure to read my 52 Friends Plan. A Canadian in your home for one week a year – it is just that easy!

We have the mounties, they have the FBI. Can you imagine the FBI doing the Musical Ride?
- Dave Broadfoot -

In Flanders Fields

Canadians in WWI, 1914 to 1918

When Britain declared war on Germany in August 1914, Canada, as a member of the British Empire, was automatically at war. Canada’s troops were called the Canadian Corps and they fought on the Western Front in trenches that stretched from the Belgium coast, through France, to the frontiers of Switzerland. 65,000 Canadian military personnel lost their lives when they ventured beyond the trenches and into No Man’s Land. One of those men was my Grandfather’s brother, Henry William.

It is said Henry joined the military because a woman approached him on the street and presented him with a White Feather, signifying she thought he was a coward. He was only 17 years old, too young to enlist, but he wasn’t about to be called a coward.  He lied about his age, and signed his Attestation Papers for the Canadian Over-Seas Expeditionary Force on September 8, 1915.

Henry arrived on the front in France on March 26, 1916. He was wounded in  June and again in September of that year. His next encounter with the enemy was his last. He was reported missing after action on The Somme on October 4, 1916. His body was never found, making him one of just over 20,000 Canadian soldiers with no known grave.

My Grandfather, Victor fought in France too. Only two weeks after Henry was killed, Victor was wounded in the face and neck. One eye was removed, and he was sent home,  forever scarred by the memories of life in the trenches.

IN FLANDERS FIELDS
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

John McRae, December 8, 1915