yellow autumn leaves

I was born in Calgary. Actually, I lived there for 8 years before moving east with my family. And so I was old enough to have memories from the time I spent there — I remember feeling giddy at the Dinosaur Park at the zoo, buying slurpees at the 7-11 down the street from my house, coming out of my house in the middle of winter and being amazed at the warm chinook weather. One thing I do not remember is Calgary's monochromatic autumn.

Yellow. That's all that happens to the deciduous trees that shed their plumage each year. None of the beautiful auburns and coppers and fiery rusts that we achieve on the east coast. It's because of the poplar and the larch, people told me, that gives Calgary its vibrant mustards. And while it was stunning to see the sides of the mountains swathed in gold, all I could think of was how I missed the east coast rainbow.

CONSUMED: Calgary and Canmore, Alberta

bunkbed

Last weekend I got to reenact my childhood dream of sleeping on the top bunk of a bunkbed. Granted I tossed and turned all night from being too hot (heat rises, remember?), and I feared for my life as the top bunk didn't have a bar along the side. But that didn't stop me from climbing up the ladder for that coveted (I'm not joking) close-to-the-ceiling sleeping experience.

CONSUMED: Paintbox Lodge; Canmore, Alberta

moose pillows

Something strange happens to you once you've lived several years as an ex-pat. Some may call it homesickness. Others may refer to it as nostalgia. I call it a healthy sense of patriotic identity.

For me, it started with missing those things that I encountered daily: the CBC and the Globe and Mail, Tim Horton's, French on boxes of cereal. Then it manifested itself as cravings for foods unavailable in my new country of residence: ketchup chips, Peak Freans fruit creme cookies, Coffee Crisp chocolate bars. Most recently, after having lived now for over 4 years as a Canadian in the States, it has revealed itself as a sudden penchant for all things kitsch about my home country.

Case in point: A true indicator that I've entered this third phase occurred when I was staying at a lodge in Canmore, Alberta during a trip for a friend's wedding. Of course, there was the typical ski chalet/log cabin decor (see: furniture made from tree branches) as well as the magnificent backdrop of the Rocky Mountains that played a role in sending me into this fit of nostalgia. But despite the jackrabbit wall mounts and the twig clothes pegs, what really caught my attention were these garish pillows on which the silhouettes of moose were stitched onto a background of lumberjack plaid. What could reek more of rustic Canadiana? And yet, I took an oddly particular liking to them. So much so that I considered stuffing one into my bag (but then thought against that since I was staying in the lodge under my friend's hospitality).

Perhaps not surprisingly, there's a store that caters to maple leaf-obsessed individuals such as myself. Luckily, it's far far away from me, up in Toronto. Best to keep it that way.

CONSUMED: Paintbox Lodge; Canmore, Alberta