Gravenhurst Artist Sarah Cole, Illustrates What's on my Mind - And, What's Going to be on my Mind, as we Continue Down This Long and Winding Muskoka Road

Art work by Sarah Cole
Birch Hollow Photo by Suzanne Currie

     It was impossible to remain entirely calm, when, late in the evening, I would hear the clear rhythmic footfall up the back stairs of the old three story house. I felt the distinct shiver of fear when I knew the steps had come through the open doorway leading into the attic, where I worked at my window-side desk at the Manitoba Street side of the former home and medical office of Dr. Peter McGibbon, one of the founders of the initial Red Cross Memorial Hospital in Bracebridge circa 1928. The sound of someone climbing the narrow, winding staircase was nothing out of the ordinary that first winter of our occupancy, circa 1977-78. But there was never a moment when the footfall commenced at the base of the staircase, that I didn't prepare to meet the source of that expended energy, spirit or human intruder, eventually materializing in the low light of the first open space of the two room attic. I would only turn around if I knew absolutely the steps were coming closer to where I was working at the typewriter, at the large horizontal front window looking out onto Memorial Park. But there was never anyone there, when I did turn to see what might be threatening my well being. What I would eventually appreciate, after a half decade living in the charming old doctor's residence, was that whatever may have been haunting the house, it meant me no harm. But there was never any doubt about it being haunted. It just wasn't a malevolent situation, and there were explanations offered by former residents, validating in part, who might have been roaming about, long, long after passing from this mortal coil.

     The years spent living and writing in that storied house, invigorated my imagination, and with all its nooks and crannies, bumps in the night, and strange vapors that used to appear in the hallway of my second floor apartment, as it connected to the back stairs, it was day to day, a living arrangement that was never ordinary or even remotely predictable. And as a writer, who was especially turned on by folk histories and the interplay of the paranormal on the living, the fact there was never a truly dull moment living in this haunted house, meant I always had something to write about especially on those cold and stormy winter nights. The ones that always seemed more active this way, and no, it wasn't just the contractions and reactions of a creaking, aged building, or the handiwork of a cranky, clattering old furnace. My imagination got a work out nightly, and I took advantage of this stimulation to write like a man possessed. Maybe I was! There's a lot to be said for possessing an over-active imagination if one's profession demands such creative juice.

     I wish I had been introduced to Gravenhurst artist, Sarah Cole a long time ago. I know she wasn't available back in the day, when I lived in the McGibbon house, because there is a significant age difference between us, but there were so many times back then when I could have greatly benefitted from a keen illustrator who might have been able to put some form to what I was hearing in that attic, and throughout the house, such that it would have made a sensible companion to what I was writing about. It's one thing to write about a ghostly encounter, but another thing entirely to reinforce a story with a well placed visual; although I did once snap several photographs of the vapor I mentioned earlier, and my cat "Animal" on the floor of the hall, looking up at the hanging cloud I can only assume was a former mortal making a visit back to a dear old haunt. It meant me no harm of course. Looking at Sarah's online portfolio of interesting visual "enchantments," and "magical this and thats," I was spellbound myself, just as I had been on those spine tingling vigils in the attic, overlooking the realities of park and main street, that didn't seem haunted at all. The painting that Sarah finished up this week, was a belated birthday present from my son Andrew, who originally met Sarah in our shop, during a transaction for several older Ouija Boards we had for sale. He got to know more about her art work, in addition to her interest in connection with the Ouija vibes, and he knew immediately his eccentric, paranormal obsessed father, would love to see what Sarah's collection included; and I immediately selected the image published on this site. It was as if she had been reading my mind, because her illustrations generally, were amazingly close to the subjects I had been imagining for more than forty years, to inspired thousands of stories about the believe it or nots of Muskoka folk lore. Of course it is coincidence, right, and has nothing at all to do with Ouija. That's crazy, isn't it"? Well, what does it matter, because I'm so pleased to have found, after long and long, an artist, painter, illustrator, who sees and feels with her vivid imagination, so many amazing and fantastic translatable details of what haunts us at any particular moment in time. I am so pleased to have found a kindred spirit who can complete with exclamation, what I wish to write about, in the realm of what haunts the Muskoka lakes, its woodlands, hillsides and fern hollows; its historic sites, pioneer cemeteries, and the curious abodes and communities that harbor a goodly share of charming old haunts, and all the folk lore and spun tales of specters, hobgoblins, good fairies and bad, and the paranormal commonplace that ghost hunters love to commune with, bring their parade of sightseers on ghost walks for profit.

     When the settlers began arriving in the newly opened District of Muskoka, from the late 1850's, accelerating after the Free Land Grants offers to emigrants, circa 1870, they were facing the grim reality that they would be more isolated in the wilds than they ever could have imagined when they left their urban situations in Europe; to participate in what was supposed to be a life enhancing adventure for their families. But what they hadn't contended with, because they were not afforded this basic information, was what isolation amidst the thick Muskoka forest of the time, could cause the psyche, unused to the severity of miles of separation from not only their familial home overseas, but from their closest neighbors which could have been a several hour hike through forests and wetlands in horrid weather conditions. It was thus, that gave Muskoka its earliest and, I believe, its most interesting and unique folk history. The emigrants brought their family Bibles on the cross-oceanic travel, and on rail, steamship, by wagon, and on foot, but they also arrived with a newly transplanted folk heritage, attributed to their country of origin, and whether or not they had been from a rural area, or a European city; that had an influence on some of their traditional beliefs that were above and beyond their religious persuasion. And being so isolated in their pioneer cabins, especially in the winter season, when the men of the family signed onto logging crews that demanded they reside at winter camps, did most certainly generate fears of the unknown, and a revisitation of those old folk tales of home, that gradually became imbedded in their new region of residence. When the summer storms pounded down against their ramshackle log cabins, and seemed hell bent on ripping away their roof-tops, there was the clear reality it was a result of a natural climate change, yet it would have been as likely, the pioneers who weathered the storms, thought about malevolent things, and attached bodies to the moans of the air currents, as if belonging to the ever feared banshee their grandfathers and mothers had spoken of back home in old Ireland. For the four seasons, there were adaptations of cultural folk lore from their former home countries, within the assault on the senses, inspired by life in the wilds of Canada, specifically Muskoka. Me thinks, these hardy souls had their own imaginations peaked by the starkness of the wild woods and the darker than dark nights in the wreath of tall pines and encumbering hillsides and boggy hollows full of strange creatures never witnessed before.

      This was the nurturing environment of a regional folk lore in its infancy. A folk lore largely ignored by most historians preoccupied with fact and less enthused about those strange fictions I have long sought out, and adored when uncovered and explained. It has been a long held ambition of mine to delve ever further into this long-lost folklore, and wealth of folk stories, before they are gone forever as the tellers become fewer in the casualty of demise. It is with this rejuvenated interest, that I hope my new associate in the hunt, gather and representation of folk history, Sarah Cole, will offer Suzanne and I some needed visual assistance, creating an enhanced intimacy we have, to this point, been woefully inadequate presenting to validate the long obscured stories. One of the major projects we hope she can help us with, is the first ever, (in Muskoka history) artist-interpreted image of the evasive "Hodag," the mythical but folk-storied creature that hunted wayward settlers in the early years of homesteading, especially the unsuspecting lumbermen cruising the woodlands, by dropping down from the upper branches of trees, and strangling its victims around the neck before presumably eating their kill. There is a pretty good history of the Hodag out there, but there has never been an artist's rendition of a Muskoka Hodag. We hope Sarah can help us with this challenge in the future.

     The artist creation that companions today's post, is perfect for a story spinner like me, and it also reinforces the point that folklore and folk stories aren't strictly committed to the history pages. Folk tales are as contemporary as Sarah's witch and cat art panel, and I have already composed dozens of story ideas that would incorporate her work, and I've only had the painting in my possession for less than twenty-four hours. But afterall, this is what quality art, whatever the medium or subject, is supposed to do. And of this, the artist has been highly successful inspiring the story writer. Please visit us frequently in the coming weeks and months, as we have some fun exploring Muskoka on a much different level than most are used to, in the traditional lakeland, typical"tourist model" in published work these days......which I don't really like, and seldom support....or even read.  I very much feel as liberated as the artist to push the boundaries a tad, to see what we can come up with that is new and exciting in art and story telling.

     Thank you Sarah, and thank you Andrew, and of course Ouija, for bringing us together at this moment in time, to inspire a keen new awareness about all Muskoka has to offer that has never been fully explored or exploited. I like the potential.