High School Redux

Anne Renouf    Senator O'Connor College School    1969 - 1974

Recently, I listened to the album 'Tea for the Tillerman' by Cat Stevens, (1970), in its entirety, for what was probably the first time in fifty years. I was in the kitchen, cooking, and surprised myself by singing lyrics, unsung by me for almost that long. 

It was the album of that year,
known by every one of my classmates. 

We were Grade Ten students, thrown together from various parts of suburban Toronto and small communities north of Toronto, in a relatively new Catholic high school, 

Senator O'Connor College School.

The school was distinct in a number of ways. Built on land donated by Senator Frank O'Connor to the De La Salle Christian Brothers, (in the Parkwoods neighbourhood of North York), the school buildings surrounded the striking Brother's House, (the former home of the Senator), with the J.J. Lynch building to the east, and the O'Connor building to the west. 

While the Lynch building was standard 1960's school style, the O'Connor building was avant-garde, designed in a hexagon by Fisher Tedman Architects. I'm not sure we fully appreciated the building's beauty at the time, with its quirky angled staircases and oddly shaped rooms, but the erratic hallways made for amazing games of hide and seek, and hidden corners to slip away into, unseen.

The Christian Brothers, and nuns of the Daughters of Wisdom held various teaching posts in this ground-breaking co-ed Catholic school, as well as many lay teachers, (including former brothers and nuns). I still think of a number of teachers from the early '70's with huge fondness - Marg Gardonio, Hugh McShane, Brother Walter, Sister Anita, Harold Brathwaite, Phil Small, Theresa Duffy.

It wasn't just the building or the staff, though these were pretty great. 

There was a strong emphasis on academics, and not just learning facts and figures, 

but developing critical thinking skills, strengthening self-confidence, experiential learning, and teamwork.

My strongest recollections of that teamwork was a distinct camaraderie in Grade Ten. 

Friendships, yes, but also trust, loyalty, 

love.

Now, fifty-six years later, I listen to Cat Stevens, and it all comes back. The melodies, the lyrics, the tight friends I was with when listening to them - all of that - but also, who I was as a person, where I was headed, and what an extraordinarily good education we all received.

*

Some months ago, I picked up one of our grand-boys after an exam at his school in Peterborough,

 to shuttle him home. (We had some good chats on those half-hour drives.) This time I mentioned that Grade Ten, for me, had been the best.

"Why?" he shot back, curious. "What made it so great?"

"It was the sense of belonging", I told him. "We were all part of something."

As I thought about this, I could picture my classmates - the school musical, sports, the fund-raisers, the 'Miles for Millions' walkathon, the hockey pools, the class trips,

the singing and guitars in the beautiful school chapel.

Primarily though, the sense of belonging was in the classes themselves, some boring, yes, but nevertheless, 

ours,

a shared experience by the same twenty-five tight friends of 10D, 

all navigating being fifteen-year-olds.

Together.

Five friends - Senator O'Connor College School - 1969-1974

'Weather Diary' at Twenty

Weather Diary 

Twenty years ago, in the Spring of 2006,

I had the opportunity to travel to 

Ocracoke Island off the coast of North Carolina,

 to live and work at my art.

(This ‘Artist Residency’ was actually a 

50th birthday gift from my husband Doug Brown, 

the only one who knew of my desire to become a 

hermit in order to produce some new work.)

I wanted to focus on drawing, using materials I

 hadn't used in a while -

primarily oil pastels, watercolour pencils, chalks and

 graphite.

I set off on my month-long pilgrimage with these 

materials and lots of drawing surfaces.

It is a seventeen hour drive from Peterborough 

Ontario to Ocracoke NC.

 I was to live in a cottage, (sight unseen), in 

Ocracoke Village,

 just me and our three-year-old black lab, Chester.

It wasn't long before I fell into the rhythm of island life. 

I wanted solitude so as to work without distraction. 

Yes, I had that.

And I wanted the sea.

Whatever was happening with regard to my artwork

 and the weather, 

each day included a long ramble on the glorious 

Ocracoke Island beach, the wide open 

Atlantic-facing expanse of bliss. 

This daily beach walk led to the creation of a 

series of works entitled 'Weather Diary', 

one-a-day drawings infused by the sea, sand, 

dunes and wild moody skies - the elements -

 that found their way into me.

You can view the art,

and read about my 'Weather Diary' pilgrimage

 here:

 annerenouf.blogspot.ca

 

                                 

Creatures We've Had In Our House

 

CREATURES

WE'VE

HAD 

IN

OUR

HOUSE

⬇

Living for fifteen years in an energy efficient home 
overlooking a wetland,
(in Otonabee-South Monaghan Township, 
Peterborough County, Ontario), 
we are definitely what you would call 
'off the beaten track'. 
What we love most about living here is the wetland 
and woodland wildlife, 
seen almost daily.
Occasionally, some of these make it into the house.
Here is my list of those who have crossed our 
threshold...(so far):

HUMANS - many

Mostly invited, these are humans other than 
the two of us who inhabit this space. 
Family get-togethers, dinner parties, Cinq-à-Sept, 
Studio Tour visitors, Art Days, 
drop-ins saying hello, 
those asking advice, giving advise, 
coming for a walk in the woods, a workshop, 
a cup of tea, a beer -
all fairly regular events.

DOGS - 5+

Chester, our forever dog, 
Best friend Fido, 
Granddogs Burley, Momo and Sully,
Rex and Toby (regulars),

and perhaps a dozen other dog visitors, (not all at once).

 CATS – 4

Larry the Cat, long-time resident,  
Gertie, who died at 22, known as ‘The Biting Cat' by the grandhumans, 
Grandcat Milo, 
and one feral cat, a longtime nocturnal visitor, via cat-flap.

 
BABY BUNNIES - 1

Brought in, very much alive, by Larry the Cat.

BIRDS - 3

Wild birds, each time, when the door was inadvertently left open. 

In October 2024, a chickadee spent an hour in our rafters, 

trying to find a way out of our clerestory windows. 

Her feet eventually, (and embarrassingly), 

became entangled in cobwebs, and I was able to climb a ladder 

and scoop her up, remove the tangle of webs, 

and let her go. Outdoors.

Happy ending.

TURTLES - 1 

A snapper, (Methuselah), right up to the threshold, but not I suppose, technically, in.

RACCOONS - 1 

Caught dragging a bag of birdseed to the cat-flap in the middle of the night.

MICE – lots

INSECTS - 1,000s

A note on insects…
I'm wondering if anyone else has had a pet wasp.
Yes, a wasp.
We once had a rather dopey, partially hibernating (queen?) wasp living in our house through the winter. We occasionally placed small saucers of water or (un)frozen blueberries or blueberry juice near her, and she (we think) nearly overdosed, judging by the amount of time she spent perched on a blueberry.
Her life ended tragically that March. 
After biting the hand that feeds her, (mine, actually my leg), contrary to popular opinion, she did not die, at least not right away, living for about another week.
Rest in peace, Willa. 

TREE FROGS – 4

The first one hopped in during a Studio Tour... a bit of a surprise for him.
The remaining three, (several years later), hopped in on a warm, wet late summer night, and hopped out again (though one took some finding), the following morning.

RED SQUIRRELS - 1 

Ran in, sat up, looked around, ran out, all in about 3.5 seconds.

SPIDERS – Oh, yes. 

(They get a category of their own.)
Specifically, in fact almost exclusively, Pholcidae, (daddy-long-legs).
We have a soft spot around here for daddy-long-legs, which goes back to our years living in the  little cabin in the woods, where we were plagued with mosquitoes from May to August, and loved that daddy-long-legs are purported
to eat them, or suck the juices out of them, or otherwise reduce their numbers. 
Not all of the humans who frequent our home are fans though. 
Our number three grandhuman once exited the bathroom proclaiming,
“I counted eight spiders in there.”     

                                      
I like them.                             
They are sort of the ‘Fred Astaires’ of the arachnid world - graceful, coordinated, quick. 
In typical Canadian fashion, I have apologized to one for inadvertently brushing it aside. 
They have great resilience. They can look crumpled and dead, and on closer inspection, suddenly unfold themselves and stride away.     
All of that, and of course, the mosquito thing.    

  
So they stay.
 
‘Creatures We’ve Had In Our House’ can be regularly updated, (the beauty of lists), depending on who comes in. 

(Latest update: Jan. 2026)
I might add that we’ve had a wide variety of creature visitors who have peered in, scrambled over, and crashed into, while not actually entering the house. 
Perhaps a list for another day, but these include ducks, geese, turkeys, crows, doves, one hawk, (RIP), and last Fall a small herd of teenage calves, (brown, white and cheeky-looking), who made it as close to the house as the patio, two metres from the door. Maybe if they ever show up again, we’ll leave the door open and see what happens…

- Anne Renouf

 
 
 

 

Forever A Franciscan

Photos clockwise:

St Bonaventure Church.    Fr. Briant.    St Bonaventure School.     Me (in blue) in grade 3.

 

I was about eight years old, growing up in the Toronto suburb of Don Mills, when I first met Father Briant Cullinane. 

He was a newly arrived young priest c. 1963, in the Franciscan Parish of St. Bonaventure. My elder sister and I attended St. Bonaventure School, and our family, (seven of us), belonged to the Church community. Father Briant was quite a change for St. Bonaventure - young, smiling, funny - certainly not the sort of priest we were used to. He clearly loved kids, and was a frequent attendee at outdoor recess, his black hooded robes, (the Conventual Franciscan habit), billowing as he walked through the playground, a flock of small children gathered around him. He showed us tricks, (how to catch a dollar bill), told corny jokes, and poked gentle fun. He also taught us to tie the three knots of the rope cincture worn on his robes, (symbolizing a Franciscan's commitment to a life of simplicity and devotion), the knots representing his vows of poverty, chastity and obedience.

For us children, he was a light - a mentor, advisor and friend - our own Father O'Malley, (Bing Crosby) in 'Going My Way'. It was soon after his arrival that St. Bonaventure Church organized a girls' softball league, (four teams - Franciscans, Carmelites, Benedictines and Dominicans) and a few years later a girls' basketball team, both of which I participated in. I was too young in the mid-60's for the vibrant St. Bonaventure's CYO, but my older siblings were involved in the organization of dances and the production of a number of plays. 

A few years after his arrival, I was hospitalized in Toronto's 'Sick Kids' with an infection in my knee, the only visitors allowed being my parents. I was feeling pretty low the first day or two post-surgery, when I thought I spotted Father Briant in the hallway outside my hospital room. Not decked out in his usual robes, but black-suited, he came in a few moments later. In my shock and surprise, my first words to him were, "How did you get in here?" Unabashed, he pointed to his dog collar and said, "You've got to be wearing one of these!" 

It was the first of many visits, each ending with a blessing, his hand placed on the top of my head, something which I thought of as his superpower.  Perhaps he sent a lightning bolt of well-being with that blessing, but the love, care and kindness was palpable.

Fr. B was at St. Bonaventure for thirteen years, before leaving us to serve in New Jersey (his home - he never lost his New Jersey accent), then the Archdiocese of Toronto, and North Carolina.

He lived to the age of 94, and while I hadn't seen him in many years, I thought of him often. He was the first person to call me 'Annie', a name which stuck through high school and university. I thought of this the other day, and googling his name, found his obituary. 

He was someone who personified kindness and love, and I will miss him.

                                                                     *

Father Briant, in my recollection, demonstrated what it was to be a true Franciscan - a commitment to simplicity and humility, service to the poor and marginalized, affirmation of the unique worth of each individual, reverence of all creation, living in imitation of Christ, finding joy - in other words, faithful to the original thirteenth century vision of St. Francis and St. Clare. Franciscan beliefs centre on the integration of action and contemplation, through prayer and commitment to social justice. The interconnectedness of all things offers a perspective that inherently transcends denominational boundaries. For me, I suppose, this last point is key - that of Franciscan recognition of the validity of multiple spiritual traditions, as I see myself as an ecumenical believer.

For nearly thirty years, I have belonged to a small rural church community within the United Church of Canada. We have a wonderful woman minister, are an 'Affirming' church community, (welcoming and fully inclusive of people of all sexual orientations and gender identities), and are active in the greater community. You can read about that church community HERE.

My religious life - that is, my time involved in a church community that has affected my outlook, my actions, my prayer, my beliefs - is fairly evenly split between Franciscan Catholicism and (what I'll call) Progressive Christianity. Both come from the same origins, similar prayers, parallel order of service and music tradition. Both emphasize the need to follow the way of Jesus.

While I do miss much of the tradition and ceremony and ritual of the Catholic Church, there is a great deal about it that I have trouble with, still, and do not miss at all. But I hold on to that which is central in living my faith.  I see myself as a follower of  'The Franciscan Way' - a seeker, with a deep respect for our natural surroundings, walking the path of simplicity and compassion, living in joy and peace, and committed to social and environmental justice. This is the cornerstone of my faith, and also defines our way of life here at our home in rural Peterborough County.

And that reminds me that I am forever a Franciscan.

Cinq à Sept - The New Dinner Party.

At heart, I'm a grazer.

I'll explain. 

For most of my adult life, hosting a dinner party seemed like the 

acceptable/conventional/easy way of entertaining, 

or returning a social obligation. 

Dinner parties can be fun, (so they tell me), especially if you are:

a) an avid cook

b) a social butterfly

c) relaxed and prepared.

I do like to cook, though perhaps more tepid than avid.

While I have my standard old favourites, I am not averse to 

experimenting with new recipes. 

I am faithful to a number of social media chefs, who, (unrealistically),

make everything look easy and uncomplicated. 

I am a bit of a 'foodie'. 

I lean toward vegetarian dishes, 

though I do eat meat, but could probably live without it 

if it weren't for lamb and bacon.

I'm not exactly a social butterfly.

Luckily, neither is my partner.

We avoid social functions, crowds, parties and indoor gatherings.

We have, (on more than one occasion), driven some distance to a party

only to drive to the house, hesitate, drive past the house 

and hightail it back home.

While we are much better in the great outdoors, we both tend to avoid 

the 'eating' part of whatever the event happens to be, and are much 

happier standing around the fringe, nursing a beer, 

occasionally speaking to the other introverts.

Relaxed and prepared?

'Prepared', maybe, unless you mean mentally. 

'Relaxed', no. Just the opposite.

Perhaps it was the anxiety that I seemed to suffer from more acutely

as I aged, that led me to question dinner parties.

(Kids and grandkids excepted...We love those.)

The whole process seemed daunting - serving drinks and hors d'oeuvres, 

sitting through dinner, pouring wine, dishing up dessert, 

making sparkling conversation. 

And ALL while eating.

This seemed increasingly difficult, mentally and physically.

It was time to rethink the dinner party.

As I say, at heart, I'm a grazer. 

My ideal social gathering involves a bottle of vino, and perhaps four people 

 sitting in an open airy conversation nook

with a low coffee table in the middle,

topped with a selection of tasty nibbles. 

Not 'starters', but the whole enchilada.

'Cinq à Sept' - the new Dinner Party. 

Now, I realize that the origins of Cinq à Sept referred to a tryst 

or an after work drink and/or hors d'oeuvres, in the days when it became A Thing.

And then, off you all went to a proper dinner at about 8 or 9 or 10:00 p.m.

(At least, if you were French or Italian or Spanish.)

But decade after decade, the evening meal has shifted earlier and earlier,

and dinner or supper or tea is now consumed as early as 5:00 p.m. 

This is why Cinq à Sept works so well. 

Not a dinner party. No. 

But a satisfying bit of food, drink, and conversation, 

beginning at 5:00...and ending at 7:00. 

Cinq à Sept. Perfection.

Here's what we do....

'Cinq à Sept'

Find a very large, simple platter or board. 

Place four small ramekins in the centre.

Fill ramekins with your choice of the following:

hummus, baba ghanoush, tzatziki, muhammara (red pepper dip),

tirokafteri (whipped feta dip), 

olives (good ones, mixed, from the deli counter).

Yes. A bit of a Mediterranean slant.

Place cheeses (of your choice) - Brie, Stilton, Boursin, 

Feta, Red Leister - on platter. 

(*take cheese out of fridge at least an hour before serving.)

Drizzle a bit of good olive oil and a sprinkle of 'Herbe de Provence' or

fresh thyme over the hummus and feta.

Add a selection of any or all of the following - tomato wedges, 

cucumber spears, roasted red pepper strips, carrot sticks, 

cocktail onions, cornichons (gherkins), sweet pepper rings, 

grilled aubergine (eggplant), artichokes, sun-dried tomatoes, 

figs, dates, apricots, almonds, walnuts -

directly onto the platter.

Want something a little more substantial? 

Add a few spanakopita or dolmades or devilled eggs.

We love to add sliced Italian sausage,

(cooked on the BBQ the night before), 

but you could keep it vegetarian by adding tempeh or vegetarian sausage.

Serve with pita triangles, thin baguette slices, and/or taco chips.

And of course, a lovely bottle of vino.

 

Sanctum - Twentieth Anniversary

sanctum    n.        1. a holy place

                                         2. a private room

 (Latin, neuter of "sanctus" holy)

This body of work was created twenty years ago,

and is now part of the Art Gallery of Peterborough's 

Permanent Collection.

The installation is comprised of eleven boxes, 12" x 12" x 5". 

Each box contains, on the front, a mixed-media portrait, (shown left), of one of the members of a girls field hockey team, c.1908,

 Jersey, Channel Islands.

 

The boxes open to reveal an installation in the interior of the box, (shown right).

Thanks for viewing!

Anne Renouf

*

'empathize'

                                                                                'love'

 

                                                                                       

                                                                                'share'

                                                                                   'listen'

           

                                                                                     

                                                                                 'seek'

                                                                             'confirm'

 

                                                                               'forgive'

                                                                             

                                                                             'initiate'

                                                                              'commit'

                                                                                   

                                                                              'honour'

                                                                                   

                                                                           'celebrate'

*