A cold day to be on the outskirts of a cold city in a cold part of the world.   When you travel midweek into Canada’s hinterlands and northern small cities, you share a plane with mostly hard and tired men who work for government or various companies doing business in the far flung nether regions of this nation.   Whether it’s travel to Prince George, Thunder Bay, Prince Albert or Yellowknife, it seems like the same guys are on the flight – steak eating, overworked, tired, introverted, hard men.   Once in a while, if they are coming home from a job well done, and travelling in groups, they are more garrulous, raucously celebrating and teasing one another across the rows of the small regional jets and Dash-8s that seem to be bulging at the seams to contain them.

On a late winter Tuesday afternoon the flight from Ottawa to Thunder Bay isn’t at all out of the ordinary.   Mostly public servants on this trip, a couple of guys wearing jackets with CAT logos on them, two or three professional women, and a young couple who have seen better days, and who seem to be holding out for better days to come.   The flight is quiet, descending through an oncoming blizzard to land on a snowy runway.   When we disembark, the jetway doesn’t fit the fuselage very snugly and a blast of cold Northern Ontario air stings the face.

Here at the Valhalla Inn – a nod to the nordic history of this part of the world – wood trim and gas fireplaces in the lobby distract the eye from the cinder block hallways, and new carpets in the room offset the aging wood and vinyl topped room furniture.   It seems like the meeting rooms are full of Aboriginal women and non-Aboriginal men.   Almost every space has a sign that says that people are planning, and being the end of the fiscal year, everyone is turning their thoughts to next year, which starts on April 1.

There is something about the bleakness of being out here, far from downtown Thunder Bay, that brings loneliness on.   I have two days of work here, but already I can’t wait to get home to my little house on an island in Howe Sound, where my family are.

It has been a long winter in many ways, and I’m ready for a rest and for spring to come on.   Here, it feels a million miles away from that – not even the geese have dared venture this far notth yet, and the storm coming in deepens the mood.

Hunker down , do some good work with local First Nations leaders and youth and then get home.   That’s the work of this week.   Looking forward to ten days with the kids, writing some reports and getting my hands into the soil of the spring garden.

For the second time in two weeks, I’m back in Ottawa, one of my former residences, and a part of Canada that I love very much.   I arrived yesterday afternoon and spent the evening walking around my old haunts on Elgin Street, going to see Milk and then finishing with a late dinner at The Manx Pub, a place located four doors down from the first place Caitlin and I lived after we moved to Ottawa in 1991.   The Manx opened three weeks after we got there and it’s still going strong.

Today a day of teaching hosting, cricle practice and Theory U with a group of people involved in our Urban Aboriginal Economic Development Network of learning circles.   Many of the people with us today are involved in setting up learning circles BC and Ontario on Aboriginal women’s social entreprenuership inspired by the work of Penny Irons and the Aboriginal Mother’s Centre in Vancouver.

Tonight its off to supper at Canada’s second Aboriginal restaruant, Sweetgrass Bistro in the Byward Market, another former stomping ground.   Good to be back here, good to be working with friends, good to be doing good work.