Halifax Chronicle

Go ahead, shoot the deer

It wasn’t entirely planned. A trip into the Ontario countryside on an errand led long-time city-dweller and freelance writer Sonia Day and her husband Barrie Murdock to purchase an old farmhouse near a small rural community. The adventures, misadventures, and life lessons learned over the next few years have resulted in the often-hilarious, often introspective Middle-Aged Spread: Moving to the Country at 50.

"I’ve wanted to write this book for a long time," Day, who wrote a humour column in Canadian Gardening magazine for nearly a decade and is the author of several books on gardening, said in an email conversation recently. "It inspired me because we all have defining moments in life, and this was certainly mine. Coming here felt right from day one — and still does."

Making the move from urban to rural dweller felt right despite the challenges the couple faced. First there was the house itself, which needed more than a little work, beginning with removing the squatters — a horde of squirrels — from its walls and ceilings.
Then there was the fun of learning "one of the first lessons of life in the country: that Mother Nature isn’t necessarily benign." The big-eyed Bambi-like deer quickly lose their charm when they dine on Day’s tulips and newly-planted shrubs.

Rampaging wild plants, from enthusiastic dogwoods to the almost-worse-than-goutweed bindweed, jeopardize Day’s standing with the enviro-set from Toronto when she attempts to wage chemical warfare on them. Day evolves from being adamant about allowing no hunting on her land to discovering how just how delicious venison can be.

I happen to be a huge fan of Day’s writing, in no small part because we share a similar sense of humour, which often leans towards the fondly-snarky end of the spectrum. In Middle-Aged Spread, she introduces us to a collection of mostly-helpful neighbours and confused city acquaintances, the latter of whom can’t grasp why she would possibly want to live in what seems to them like the back of beyond.

Her encounters with Deirdre the hoity-hort (the know-it-all gardening type who wants to make sure everyone else knows that she knows everything) and Elinor the tiresome eco-evangelist are hilariously funny at the same time as they are pointedly accurate.

But she is as quick to turn her satirical wit on herself and her husband, nicknamed Logbook Man for the duration of the memoir. She acknowledges how much she has learned since she left behind the lights of the big city for the warmth of life in a smaller community where you actually know your neighbour’s names and quirky personalities.

"It’s very different from city life," Day says of her rural existence, which she and her husband clearly love. "You have to be prepared for that, and have an open mind. Rural residents have different attitudes to many things (hunting is one) and that can come as a surprise. And it certainly has changed me. I’m now in favour of hunting deer for food because it makes sense (there Go ahead, shoot the deer

"I’ve wanted to write this book for a long time," Day, who wrote a humour column in Canadian Gardening magazine for nearly a decade and is the author of several books on gardening, said in an email conversation recently. "It inspired me because we all have defining moments in life, and this was certainly mine. Coming here felt right from day one — and still does."

Making the move from urban to rural dweller felt right despite the challenges the couple faced. First there was the house itself, which needed more than a little work, beginning with removing the squatters — a horde of squirrels — from its walls and ceilings.

Then there was the fun of learning "one of the first lessons of life in the country: that Mother Nature isn’t necessarily benign." The big-eyed Bambi-like deer quickly lose their charm when they dine on Day’s tulips and newly-planted shrubs.

Rampaging wild plants, from enthusiastic dogwoods to the almost-worse-than-goutweed bindweed, jeopardize Day’s standing with the enviro-set from Toronto when she attempts to wage chemical warfare on them. Day evolves from being adamant about allowing no hunting on her land to discovering how just how delicious venison can be.

I happen to be a huge fan of Day’s writing, in no small part because we share a similar sense of humour, which often leans towards the fondly-snarky end of the spectrum. In Middle-Aged Spread, she introduces us to a collection of mostly-helpful neighbours and confused city acquaintances, the latter of whom can’t grasp why she would possibly want to live in what seems to them like the back of beyond.

Her encounters with Deirdre the hoity-hort (the know-it-all gardening type who wants to make sure everyone else knows that she knows everything) and Elinor the tiresome eco-evangelist are hilariously funny at the same time as they are pointedly accurate.

But she is as quick to turn her satirical wit on herself and her husband, nicknamed Logbook Man for the duration of the memoir. She acknowledges how much she has learned since she left behind the lights of the big city for the warmth of life in a smaller community where you actually know your neighbour’s names and quirky personalities.

"It’s very different from city life," Day says of her rural existence, which she and her husband clearly love. "You have to be prepared for that, and have an open mind. Rural residents have different attitudes to many things (hunting is one) and that can come as a surprise. And it certainly has changed me. I’m now in favour of hunting deer for food because it makes sense (there are way too many deer). But 10 years ago I wouldn’t have felt that way." She’s also become an impassioned food-grower, although she still enjoys growing plenty of (deer-resistant) flowering plants.

Day changed the name of her community and of some of the personalities who live there in writing her book, primarily out of a sense of protecting any sensitive souls who might take offence at her story. She says, "I’ve only had one email from a sourpuss who thought I was making fun of country people. Most people find it very funny, and several of them have pointed out that city people seem to come off much worse in the book than rural ones!"

As an added bonus, there are a few delightful recipes at the end of the book, including (not surprisingly) one named Great Venison Stew.

Day has just completed another book, to be launched at Canada Blooms in March. Entitled Incredible Edibles: 43 Fun Things You Can Grow in the City, it’s "aimed at young would-be gardeners who’d like to try growing a few things but aren’t sure where to start," she says.

Freelance writer and country dweller Jodi DeLong has never had squirrels in the walls but thinks the goutweed is trying to move indoors.