Where'd the Day Go

Nearly Full Moon

In the Beginning:

• walk around yard in housecoat, with coffee mug in hand, admiring plants
• work in the a.m.
• men for lunch; throw leftovers together for supper casserole
• Emil to massage therapist; no other help for plugged-feeling ears, maybe this can make something move
• credit union (cash), hardware store (seed for red poppies and bachelor buttons; birdseed), post office
• BC fruit truck for nectarines and oranges
• groceries with Emil; he doesn't shop, but stalks the aisles for people he knows
• haul groceries into house (about 10 trips; the part I dislike)
• put groceries away (the part I like)
• heat casserole, eat w/Emil, run some out to Scott at 8pm

A late supper brought to the field

In the End:

• And now to bed, with Virginia Woolf! And an open window to listen to the birds and frogs on this mild evening.

Hayes Comes to the Farm

Hayes, my great-nephew.

My niece was taking her daughter Trea to a gym class and needed a minder for her little fella. I live "on the way" so it worked out perfectly. Me and my buddy took the stroller down the road, then sat on the step and rested before coming in for a bite to eat.

Saskatchewan Flag

Saskatchewan flag at grocery store

Deer on the Run

Deer in cattle pasture

"It froze again hard last night," I heard him say to someone on the phone early this morning.

But the sky is blue today.

Perhaps it's like this day in Virginia Woolf's life:
"A bitter wind blew splinters of sunshine."

She Returns

A pretty front yard in the city. I coveted the flowerbed, to which this photo does no justice whatsoever
.

While out here, the only thing blooming in our yard are the tulips and one small bleeding heart. And some lovely dark fuschia lobelia in a pot in the porch.

There have been a couple heavy frosts, I'm told, explaining the black withered death of my portulaca. But they are the only plants that couldn't weather the weather. I expected the carnage to be far worse, and stopped at a greenhouse while leaving Saskatoon in order to fortify myself to face the damage. $75 later ...  but now I have a couple more items that no respectable flower-lovin' gal should do without: elegant red nicotiana, white ones with their evening fragrance, orange and yellow calendula to bloom through the fall ... and so on. They are tucked safely onto the floor behind the driver's seat of my old-lady van for now, out of the elements.

I've only poked my nose out on the step and it smells GLORIOUS out there! It's the poplar trees, right? Gotta be.

Yesterday  marked seven  years since Mom's passing. When she was dying I couldn't imagine living beyond her for years. And— of course this makes no sense at all — I still can't.

Jumped the Gun

Dammit; it's been snowing since 5 a.m. The flakes are mixed with raindrops, and the snow mostly melts when it hits the ground, but I'm leaving this afternoon for several days and the forecast is for frost tonight. So, though at first I said I wouldn't, I bundled up and hauled in all the pots I could carry. They will be safe in the porch till I get back. Those annuals in the ground already will have to take their chances, as sheets used to cover them end up soaked and crushing the plants beneath. Can't win fer losin'!

Every spring in recent years it's been the same ... in Saskatchewan we think the May long weekend it's safe to put our bedding plants into the ground. Well, maybe once upon a time it was; but not anymore. In future I am going to have to find a way to restrain myself from planting on beautiful warm days like this past weekend, and wait till June instead. It won't be easy. I've tried before, and failed; warm weather compels me to cooperate with the nurslings, which silently beg to be freed from their restrictive trays. But after lugging all these heavy pots in, saturated with rain, maybe I've learned my lesson. Patience.

The Slough is Coming Closer

Still rainy; the new flowerbeds love it (see my little camper back in the trees?)

Another wet dark day; puddles in the grass.

Scott leaves to work at the old school in Kuroki, which is now a private home where he has done repairs and renovations. I sent four pots of lambs' ears for the lady's yard. Still need homes for daylilies, shasta daisies, peonies. Two gardeners want some but haven't come for them yet. There is probably no rush when it comes to Scott going through the back yard with a cultivator; a more pressing anxiety, if there is one, is that they are getting weedy.

I make myself a couple large mugs of coffee and come back to bed to read Virginia Woolf's diary.

I think about Grandma Benson, shut my eyes, which water, and imagine her here with me, patting my shoulder and saying in her stoic, slightly clucky and unsympathetic way, "Don't be silly."

Talked to old beau Jeff yesterday; he is enthusiastic about his experiences after smoking salvia and going to send me some, which I may not have the courage to try.

I'm reading Jacob's Room as I go along in Virginia's diary at the same time she was writing the novel, but am more interested in Virginia's own life.

J's Room: "As for the beauty of women, it is like the light on the sea, never constant to a single wave. They all have it; they all lose it."

Among women there is so much discussion about inner beauty being what's important and how we're all "beautiful," and I think fine, but why do we have to be beautiful?

J's Room, re beauty: "No one can count on it or seize it or have it wrapped in paper."

...

"Thus if you talk of a beautiful woman you mean only something flying fast which for a second uses the eyes, lips or cheeks of Fanny Elmer, for example, to glow through."

Diary: "so many smashes and tergiversations."
Gotta look up that one.
Tergiversate: 1) equivocate; make conflicting or evasive statements. 2) be apostate; change one's party or principles.

Tomorrow I take the day off and, in the afternoon, head to the city for a weekend of gospel-singing at a One Human Family choir workshop. I'm all about the singing; love the music; put up with the morning prayer in order to do it.

Halt

Before we moved here, this was someone's idea of a fence-repair job: lean stuff up against it! 

It's been drizzling or downright raining since early morning, so there was no gardening to be done (no sweat; the last of my bedding plants were relocated yesterday) or walking, though I did pull on my ski pants and winter jacket to take chicken fat (or whatever the liquid is that comes out when you roast one) out to the cats in the tractor shed, and strolled to the end of the driveway before coming in to dry off.

There will be many depressed farmers around here for the next while, as their field work has come to a halt.

On the Move

Men on the move

Scott and his brother have checked their fences today and brought the bulls over to our pasture.
I have transplanted flowers and strawberries. Five of my purple coneflowers, moved in the fall, haven't come up yet. Could mean another visit to the greenhouse.
Doesn't seem like I've done a lot today, but I'm beat. Maybe one more leisurely stroll around the yard before it gets dark and cooler ....

♫ Hey Big Spender ♫

Scott bought a new toy: a bigger mower, with a grass-catcher. 

Yesterday I went to my first garage sale this season. I don't need a thing! But am looking for child's wagons to use to move my heavy, full flowerpots around the yard, and wooden photo frames for my wall collection of family pictures. I brought home one 5" x 7" frame, and:

to help keep mosquitoes at bay out on the deck: can't have too many

the cutest little flowerpot, right

A chocolate-melting cup and a noodle bowl w/chopsticks

All for a grand total of $2.
♫ Hey Big Spender ♫ 

A Time for Sowing

Seeding has begun, in our corner of the cosmos.

That's what's going on outdoors.
It looks like we may get rain today, too.

Indoors, I am trying to get the laptop to do what I want so I can use it for certain aspects of my job, and it's being unreasonable and uncooperative and speaking a language I don't understand.

The binoculars are for birdwatching through the window.

After spending several hours yesterday afternoon without getting the required results, I was washing dishes when Scott came home, said hello, and asked me immediately, "What's wrong?"

"It's that obvious?" said I. "I'm frustrated as hell."

It was so exhausting that after eating a light supper I laid down for a half-hour in hopes of getting a second wind. And then went out, dug up a couple dozen perennials, and transplanted them into the new front flowerbed. This I know how to do! And it is satisfying to see the greenery out there where I want it.

Now if only things will start going my way at the kitchen table.

The Daily Palaver

Male American goldfinches, seen above, arrived at the feeders first. The paler females appeared yesterday.

You try to come up with something to post every day!

The webpages I'm most loyal to are those that have new content every time I manage to get over to them; if I'm disappointed too many times, I tend to stop going back.

Here, it's my habit to post some sort of photo at least, and even if there's nothing much going on, just saying hello gets me started and then I can be surprised by what comes up, sometimes, if I just sit down here and give it a minute or two and post something — anything. It's really all about my own entertainment, to be honest, and my own love of letterwriting and journalling. My entries won't contain the solution to world peace or a learned treatise on philosophy or a witty satire on lifestyle or insider stock tips; I'm not even sharing all my bitchy life dramas (and I do have a few!) with you people. If a friendly how-dy-doo isn't good enough for you, dear reader ... you will be disappointed here.

Today I've got someone coming over in an hour or two and I'm still in my housecoat and pyjamas and haven't eaten breakfast. The house was cold so I didn't feel like making my habitual fruit smoothie; I cranked the furnace on instead and will wait till things toast up. The wind's being a bit mean and the sky's grey so there's no incentive to go outside yet, even though transplanting a dozen speedwells into the new flowerbed out front is next on my gardening agenda.

[Anyone local want well-established shasta daisies or daylilies? They are here for the diggin; I've no place to put them and they could end up ploughed under if no one takes them. Also there are three peonies that I've no new home for; all yours, just come over and get them. They aren't quick to recover from transplanting but they will eventually.]

And I want to put in five hours at work on the computer before doing something with ground beef for supper; something like meatloaf, which is one of my favourites. Can you go wrong with ground beef? Not usually. But blechh. I'm bored with cooking. And dishes. Would rather live on fruit smoothies.

Had a little mostly one-sided conversation with Emil, who apparently believes clowns should be nice people:

Emil
"I like The Simpsons.
There's a guy named Crusty the Clown. He's not very nice. He shouldn't even be a clown. He's mean.
Crusty the Clown always sounds like he has a sore throat when he talks. I don't like the way he talks. Maybe he does have a sore throat."

Me
"So, what do you like about The Simpsons?"

Emil
"I like everybody except Crusty the Clown. He's mean.
Poppa likes The Simpsons too."

Florence Foster Jenkins (Cover Your Ears!)

While doing my work, which requires plenty of internet surfing to find information and photographs relating to a variety of subjects, I come across the most curious things.

Today, while searching for an image to illustrate Canada's Immigration Act of 1976, I stumbled upon this. Don't ask me how. But I just had to share it with you. Perhaps you will stop saying, "Oh, I can't sing!" This lady sure as heck couldn't, but she didn't let that stop her!

For more information about this performer who couldn't sing worth a hoot but sold out Carnegie Hall, click on this link.

I've already sent it to my sister Karen for whom, as for me, listening to Florence Foster Jenkins "sing" is horribly irritating. As a matter of fact, I can guarantee Karen won't make it to the end of the recording; I didn't.

I've often heard people who can't remain on pitch while certain they are excellent singers, but I've never heard of anyone taking it to such extremes in public and so able to convince herself that her voice was worth listening to, and more: worth paying to listen to.

All I Want for Mother's Day is a Bath Pillow

All sliced, so the mess is made only once

Been hard at work the last few days, as well as struggling with the neck thing again; however today I'm feeling normal and the sun is warm and the wind isn't being a bastard, so I plan to spend much of it outside with a hoe or shovel in my hand. Imagine I'll come in with a sunburn, but don't care.

And the new green leaves have popped out, and the birds are singing up a storm all around. This is my idea of heaven, though naturally it would not be heaven for everyone. For instance: wood ticks. Frightful things. But they're not going to stop me enjoying the outdoors. My heaven is certainly different from the heaven of others; and that makes perfect sense to me. A city boy recently told me that a few days in the quiet countryside (it's far from quiet, I have to say,  but compared to the Toronto traffic I guess it is) unnerved him, and he craved the sound of traffic again. Everett, on the other hand, who is now living in Edmonton, tells me he's coming out here with his dad this week to get a few lungfuls of fresh air, because even after living in the city since September he's not become accustomed to the "smell" of it. (He actually has no sense of smell; he "tastes" what the rest of us smell.)

Woke up yesterday morning to the sound of the lawn being mowed ... a summer sound if ever there was one. Felt as if I was living a life of luxury, to lie abed while the household's early riser was out there working. Although I suspect that riding around on the lawnmower is a rest, for him, compared to the other work he does.

And yes I am thinking of my "moms" today. My little grandmom, gone more than a year now, and my mom, gone almost seven. If you've still got your mom and your grandma in your life, spoil them rotten today.

Sights of Saskatoon

I will never believe this little baby is 14. Never!!

Cathy, left, after the show with her daughter Emma and her mom Elaine

The city of Saskatoon has prettified its streets by such scenes as this: Joni Mitchell, who calls the city her hometown,  with a view of city bridges behind. I took this picture though the window of Cathy's car on a rainy day.

Sights of Toronto

With false captions for those who find my blog somewhat ... too ... dull ...
Does this help?

The mall across from my hotel; there was a bomb scare there the day before I arrived

A pair of lesbian transvestites I ran into at the mall

When you're eating your meals alone, they should at least look good. Supper: grilled vegetable sandwich w/ sweet potato fries. 

A trapeze act hired to entertain me in my hotel room; they had a real workout. Bet they were sore for days.

My Spiderwoman capabilities allowed me to scale the outside walls of the hotel and enter rooms whose occupants had left their purchases behind while they went sightseeing. This way I don't have to do all my *shopping* at the mall.

Housekeeping

Sign that our cleaning gal has been here

Home, at last! Only six days away but it felt like a long time.
And the sun is shining. There were tinges of green in the trees outside Saskatoon, but they became fewer as I drew closer to Wadena. However, the frogs are still having a heyday and if the sun keeps it up today, it won't be long till we're bathed in the kelly green of brand new poplar and willow leaves.
I've been outside in my bright green housecoat —thankyou Joanie!— pulling grass and weeds from the flowerbed and flowerpots, spotting new growth in the old flowerbed (so many plants to be moved yet), and thinking I'd like to spend the entire day outside.
Might just let myself do it, too.

Rosebud Mountain

The "mountain" above looks close, but it is actually a mile away from where I stood on the road to take this picture. Last spring the municipality (I assume) decided to store gravel in an unused farmyard; so there it is. Rosebud is the name of the area in the countryside where we live.

Not far from the gravel pile is a country hall that has been used for many years for dances and parties. Sometimes when I'm sitting up reading late on weekends the deep drone of the bass is audible from across the field between the hall and our place. For only a moment there is a sense of "missing all the fun," but it is just old habit. You couldn't drag me out of my cosy bed to that noisy hall; not with a herd of wild horses. I know exactly what I'm missing: nothing. Or put another way: been there, done that, got the Tshirt.

The flight to Saskatoon was uneventful yesterday but for a small boy, too young to make intelligible words yet, who peered over the back of his seat ahead of my row and entertained. The two ladies beside me laughed and played with him -- "Boo!" --  and I went back to my reading until he'd holler at me in his garbled language to Pay Attention! I wasn't to be allowed to wriggle out of it that easily. Smiling toddlers; gotta love 'em. Or else.

There's been heavy rainfall throughout the night and it's still windy and wet out there. Cathy and I will attend her daughter Emma's musical theatre performance this afternoon -- I've never seen her onstage so this is a long-overdue event for me -- and tomorrow I'll head down the highway home.

Scott, when we spoke on the phone while I was away in March, insisted on putting the receiver to little Ducky's ear so that I could speak to him. The dog reacted by pawing at it. This trip, when Scott did the same thing and I said a few words to the dog (not my idea, I'll have you know; too silly, but I obliged), he licked the receiver. Awww.......

Lone Spruce

Old Barn, Lone Tree

That's it then, for Hog Town. A hearty brunch with a work colleague, a stroll out in the sunshine, and here I am, packing up for the trip to the airport, where I'll spend yet more time people-watching before we take to the air in four hours.

I understand I may need my jacket when getting off the plane in Saskatoon. Hard to believe at this moment, when it's hot and I'm wishing I had a fan in my hand.

Doc Makes It To The River

Last year Doc MacLean stopped at the little Anglican church in Wadena as part of his tour across Canada. I got this little video but until now YouTube wouldn't allow me to upload anything longer than about 20 seconds. Suddenly I'm no longer persona non grata. I've got privileges! Woo hoo!"

I'm a big like-er of Doc's songs and always yodel alongside his "sultry tones." Yodelling works for me because I rarely remember lyrics. As a matter of fact, I have no clue what most songs are about. Doc puts a lot of effort into his storytelling so this might be disappointing to him, but what can I do? It's the way I listen to music.

Speaking of listening to music, after Maggie and John left last night (I'd given them tea and coffee in my room) I figured I'd better go down and eat something. Not that I was hungry, but I didn't want to be caught in my room unable to sleep because I hadn't eaten enough. And no piano player! He only plays Monday to Wednesday nights in the lounge. Guess I should have seized the day, the night before!

Looks like it's shaping up to be a hot day. At least, that's how it feels in here.

Ravine in Spring

How things look back home

Scott called early this morning and mentioned that at home, it had frozen during the night.

Here the tulips are over a foot tall, and blooming! The grass is green ... the birdies sing ... and everything!

Had a fine visit this evening with my Katimavik friend Maggie, whom I hadn't seen for some 30 or more years. It was only two hours of chatting but she and her husband had driven an hour-and-a-half after work to get here, and had yet to make their way home through pouring rain and then they work tomorrow morning. Within a very short time I thought what a shame Scott wasn't here, as the two men would have had a lot in common. We managed to have some good laughs and solve the world's problems and I have decided to assume we'll get to spend another evening sorting things out before 30 more years pass. (It's my head; I can dream if I want to.)


It is midnight, time for this tired gal to hit the hay. Will have more time to ramble another day. Perhaps tomorrow evening, when I'm sitting in this hotel room by my lonesome, with my head near to exploding with all the new information I'm taking in for work. With my luck tonight I'll be practising my new database skills instead of getting a good sleep. Can't help it; my brain functions like a Nazi sometimes.

Buds

Taken above my driveway 

And I was excited to see those buds, believe me!
Now here I am in Toronto, where the first thing I noticed was that THE LEAVES ARE OUT!
What a treat to see that. And the lilacs are starting to bloom! Back home ... well, you've seen: buds only.

It was one in the morning before I managed to fall asleep in Saskatoon, and then the alarm went at 4 a.m. and I was up, drinking coffee, eating Cathy's delicious banana chocolate chip muffins, and being driven to the airport by my sainted friend who got out of bed at 4:30 rather than make me take a cab. Thank you again, Cathy. You really go beyond the call of friendship duty. I owe ya bigtime.

The early departure was so that I could take a direct three-hour flight rather than fly west to Calgary and then east again. I was fortunate enough to sit with two lovely ladies (three blonds in a row, were we) whose conversation made the trip seem short and sweet. One of them (Hi Andrea!) even offered to drop me off here at the hotel on her way home, and then was kind enough to wait for me till my luggage became available, when she could have jaunted off right away. I swear, when it comes to the very decent and kind people I meet, I am one of the luckiest women in the world.

It was just past noon when I got checked in and up to my room, unpacked and settled in, and looked in the mirror. Hoo boy. Obviously very tired. However I didn't dare take a nap for fear of missing my tea-time appointment with Barbara and Deb (see The Middle Ages blog; link's in the list of Canadian webpages down below), so I took a nice long shower to perk me up and then headed across the street to the mall, where I walked around for an hour until it was time to meet. This was my first in-person meeting with internet friends, and it was no disappointment. These two gals were so easy to talk to it was as if we'd known each other for a hundred years, and by the time we parted ways, I hated to let them go. I got what looks to be a gorgeous picture of the two of them, but it'll have to wait till I get home before you get to see it. Pretty sure Barbara's camera is toast, due to the photo she took with me in it. (I should've warned you, B.)

Back at the hotel I took a stroll through the building to see how late the restaurant is open and find some snacks to keep in my room. My plan was to get to bed early, catch up on the sleep I missed last night, and be perky for tomorrow's learning curve. But someone was playing the piano in the lounge, and I am oh so tempted to go down there and listen to him while eating something. Except that I'm not hungry. Guess I could drink. But not on a mostly empty stomach. Hm. We'll see. Meanwhile sitting here with Scott's laptop is perfectly restful and relaxing. The only thing I'd enjoy more is if he was here with me.

Boy is the traffic outside my fourth-floor window ever loud! With luck it'll make white noise that'll help me sleep like a baby tonight.

There is a lot to see and do in this city, but it's unlikely I'll avail myself of any of the tourist attractions: Casa Loma, which would be fascinating to see, and the Royal Ontario Museum ... and that's only two of many. I've only got Friday evening free, and a couple hours Saturday afternoon before flying back to Saskatoon, and it might be wise to leave those spots open for now just in case this old girl actually needs to rest at some point.

Country mouse in the city, that's me.

My Pet Moose

We guess this little darlin is a year-old female. During yesterday's walk was the third time I've come upon her in the past few days. She stood looking back at me for quite awhile before deciding she should hide (sorry about the wind; honestly it is the wind, not my breathing):




Thanks to Joanne, I've remembered that today Mom would've phoned her and given the annual spiel:

Hooray Hooray
It's the First of May
Outdoor screwing
Starts today!

And on that note I'll leave you for now, as I've got to spend the morning doing laundry, packing, and preparing to drive to Saskatoon, where I'll spend the night at Cathy's and catch the plane to Toronto at 6 a.m. You may have to live without my wondrous words for an entire week, you poor things! Unless I've the inclination to get on the laptop in the hotel room in the evenings. We shall see.

From A Year With Rumi: Daily Readings by Coleman Bark:

The way you make love
is the way God will be with you.

*This is Rumi's variation on the Golden Rule.

Food for thought, isn't it?

Retired workhorses— granary and grain truck

Yesterday was pretty much a write-off, though I did manage to sit here for one hour and work. The rest of the day and all of the night were spent wondering what in the hell it is I do to bring this upon myself. In hopes of relieving the pressure on my neck I semi-reclined on the couch for part of the night. There was no real sleep to be had, but I dreamed anyway.  The mind is an entertaining beast when you're awake enough to observe what it gets up to. Quite inventive!

After sleeping most of the morning I am caught up on the hours missed last night and now feel almost normal. My fingers are crossed that it remains so for the rest of the day. That deadline still needs to be met, and I've got to prepare for a week away from home: do laundry, pack, and so on.

Sure hope this kind of migraine thingy doesn't spring itself upon me while en route to Toronto during the three-hour plane ride, or when I'm there working over several days.

Snow Geese

There's a flock in the field south of our yard, and are they ever noisy! And easily spooked. I was still quite far away when they left the ground and, not ready for it, missed recording the first moments. But the sound made by their wings as they first take off is enough to make you stand there with your mouth open. It's almost overwhelming.

I'm not feeling right, dammit (neck thing, third day in a row), but have to work this afternoon if we're to meet a deadline, so am going to go for a short walk and see if that helps any. If it doesn't, sitting here will be hell on wheels. You know how it is when all you want to do is sleep to escape it, and you can't.

Accident on Main St Wadena

Maybe this thing ...

...hit this thing.

It appears no one was hurt, but the ambulance showed up anyway just moments after I snapped these pictures when Emil and I came out of the Co-op store.

A Quick Hello

Flat, my ass! Lo the undulating hills of Saskatchewan

It is freezing cold out there this morning, and I haven't even had breakfast yet, but have a busy day ahead that must include a brisk 45-minute walk. Sigh. Some days I sure don't feel like it.

And now, it is time to make this morning's smoothie: kiwi, banana, spinach, yogurt, blueberries, apple, orange. It will be olive green, but I don't care; it will taste delicious and look at all the vitamins getting down my neck! This pleases me no end.

I'll leave you with the following film, which my sister Joan says was an eye-opener for her and her hubby:

Watch Forks Over Knives online:

http://www.filmsforaction.org/Watch/Forks_Over_Knives_2011/

Oh, and look! Since it's soon dandelion season, why not make good use of the pesky plants?

Other Places to Read

Out behind the chicken coop sits this old thing, probably an apartment for mice now.

I have gathered some links that might be of interest:

http://greatgreths.wordpress.com/

The Unbearable Lightness of Being Me contains some stunning photographs

http://blog.thecanadianencyclopedia.com/blog/posts/classic-shipwreck-songs/#more-3795

Classic Shipwreck Songs, by Gary Cristall on the Canadian Encyclopedia blog; contains a 5-minute audio recording of Leadbelly

“When Edith Wharton—then Edith Jones—was a little girl, her favorite game was called “making up.” “Making up” involved pacing around with an open book and (before she could read) inventing and then later half reading, half inventing stories about real people, narratives that she would chant very loud and very fast. The constant pacing and shouting were important parts of the game, which (according to Wharton’s memoir, A Backward Glance) had an enraptured, trance-like, slightly erotic aspect. Her parents spied on her, and it made them nervous.” 

http://www.nybooks.com/blogs/nyrblog/2012/mar/21/making-up-edith-wharton/

Making up Edith Warton, by Francine Prose in The New York Review of Books

And that's that for that! 

I will be slaving hard indoors for most of the day, trying to meet a deadline. 

Birthday Girls

Angela and Karen

So you think astrology is a bunch of hooey, do you?
The pattern of your life is affected by the alignment of the stars and planets at the moment of your birth. An astrologer "reads" your life by studying a picture of the sky from the place you were born and at that particular date and time of day.
These two, Angela and Karen, were born in the same hospital on the same day 51 years ago.
They were good friends as schoolgirls and then married brothers who farm together. The two families lived near each other in a shared farmyard until just this spring, when they both moved into new houses built on a lakeshore.
Angela and Karen each raised three children — two girls and one boy.
Both women worked at the school in Margo as teachers' aides and now they both work in neighbouring Invermay, one at the school and one at the nursing home.

When I went to Karen's yesterday to take a flower arrangement for her birthday, Angela popped in so I got to see her too.

From Karen's front window you can see Margo, two miles away

I gave Karen a tarot "birthday card" yesterday and it occurred to me that these would be as welcome, by a lot of us, as the traditional birthday card. See my tarot page (link is in list below, too) for more information.

Mornin'

A pair of Canada geese south of the barn

Yesterday I went for a walk in such glorious weather that I felt perfectly, perfectly content — the warmth on my face, the smell of spring breezes, the bird calls—yes, it did, as always, make me sing.
And yesterday my gardening began. I moved seven shovelsful of oriental poppies from the back yard to the front. Then made myself stop.
Today I'll move 10 painted daisies.
It was cool and windy when I carried my coffee onto the step, so I didn't stay out there.

Karen's birthday.
I've no gift; shopped and failed to find the perfect thing.
For now, I've sent her a birthday "tarot" card.
Did call her though; she was off to find a dog and/or the things the dog dragged along when it escaped its strictures. (Dog needs new home; gorgeous two-year-old rottweiler, Dahlia. You interested?).
I'd go to town, buy flowers, and go visit, but have pressing work to do and will be searching the internet, sending emails and making phone calls in an effort to meet a deadline; her kids and grandkids are taking pizza and cake over for supper.
At our age, that's enough to pack into one day.
I was reading Jacob's Room, one of Virginia Woolf's early novels, and she describes a 50-year-old woman as "elderly." Whoa! VW was in her mid-thirties when she wrote the book; one must take that into consideration I suppose.

Smoothie Perfection: 

Orange juice, plain yogurt, strawberries, ½ banana, 1 apple.

Been adding too much stuff lately; left the avocado, spinach and blueberries out this time. Perhaps another smoothie later in the day will give me a chance to use them. This is divine! 

We've Got Moose

While on my first bike ride this year, I went north from the driveway when I noticed an unfamiliar shape in the ditch. It turned out to be a young moose that crossed the road and stood nibbling on the other side till Old Jenna reached it. They looked at each other and the moose turned and sauntered away behind the bush. Jenna didn't make a peep.

Peaceful Morning

It's a fine, fine morning. The sun's shining, and sure I may need a jacket, but out on the step it is glorious! The birds and frogs are making all kinds of noise, the good kind. Now that I've watched the last two episodes of this week's Coronation Street, I'm going to brew a second pot of coffee and go stroll around the yard with a mug in my hand. Maybe I'll keep my long underwear on — I donned it this morning to wear while watching TV so that it wouldn't be necessary to curl up under a blanket — under my jeans. (Curling up while sitting is a habit of mine that isn't the best thing for my back and neck; posture, donchaknow. It's a hard habit to change.)

So much for the leisurely Sunday mornings catching up with my favourite online reading. That's for winter. Everything changes when the wind hasn't whipped up yet and the ducks and frogs are doing their spring thing and even the magpies are making music to my ears. I slept last night with the bedroom window open so I could hear the frogs. The only bird that I haven't heard yet is the sora:

Here you go; you can hear its call on this page: click here.
They will call to each other late into the night, once they get here.

I still haven't figured out which bird cackles like an old witch, out there.

Saturdays are Good Days When You're Not Aching

OK the snow's gone. Now would a little heat be too much to ask?

Sheesh. I still have to walk with the hood of my winter jacket up. Am I complaining? Yes.

Didn’t work much yesterday so put in three hours today and will do another two tomorrow. Went for massage instead, which hurt like hell; asked the therapist to lighten up, and she did, but it still hurt. This morning I was pretty sore. To be expected, mind you, as there were knots in my shoulders and upper back to be worked out, which might explain why I’ve had so many  migraines in recent weeks. 

And so I've been at this computer enough hours for today, and will leave with a link to this most excellent article about how to make fried rice. 

Click Here.

I didn't follow the instructions very closely today, but took those leftovers from last night's café supper and made fried rice with them today, keeping the pro's tips in mind, and it turned out fine.

Don't forget to listen to "Randy's Vinyl Tap" tonight on CBC radio. It's on from 7 to 9.

Here's the page with info and podcast: Click Here.

Or turn on CBC Radio One and listen to the newest program.

Randy's Vinyl Tap, music's answer to The Private Life of a Masterpiece.

Goo Moo?

Emil's household is going to a dance tomorrow night, so he decided to stay in town this weekend. I had a massage appointment though, so went in anyway and my boy and I got a bite to eat before picking up groceries.

The new owners of the Good Luck Diner on Main Street are not fluent in English. They are Chinese and methinks they may even be brand new immigrants. To order our meals, I had to help the husband/cook/waiter understand Emil, who tends to speak quickly and run his words somewhat lazily together. For myself, I pointed at something in the chop suey section of the menu called "goo moo mei pau" or thereabouts, enquiring what it is. What I could comprehend of the reply was "chicken" so I thought it worth the risk, assuming it would have lots of veggies. Which it did ... mmm mmm mmm ... loads of fresh mushrooms and celery ... as you can see, I made a pretty good dint in it. The rest, including most of the chicken and the entire bowl of rice, came home for Scott.

It was so cold here today that I expected snow; however, it started to rain while we were in the café ... which warmed things up.

Ducky in Heaven on Earth

Sorry ladies; I am not permitted to share with you the full visual splendor of my spouse's masculine pulchritude. He requested that I crop him out of the photos.
But at least you can imagine the pleasure of his attentions ... look at Ducky here, enjoying a cuddle and a caress.

Froggie went A-courtin'

My little bit of video to share with you the singin' of the a-courtin' froggies in my back yard (which has just begun in earnest but is not yet as loud as it's going to get) isn't worth a hoot, so ... you get this instead.

A Morning

To fly or not to fly—that is the question

And this morning I am good as new again.
As a matter of fact, aside from it not being warm enough to sit on the step with my coffee, I've enjoyed my ideal morning: awake, propped up in bed, reading and drinking coffee before 8. Scott is still home, busy planning his day, having a bath, organizing his paperwork for taxes, doing his thing.

I’ve nowhere to go, and the sky is blue. I’ve taken four large strawberries out of the fridge to thaw for my breakfast smoothie. I’ve been reading Virginia Woolf’s diary from 1916. My hair needs washed; I’ll have a bath this morning before getting dressed. Yesterday was a write-off due to the neck thing, so I felt poorly in the morning, slept most of the afternoon, and didn’t go outside. Thus I must walk today.

Also I need to make up my mind when to go to Toronto so that airline tickets and rooms can be booked. I don’t want to go! But having the skills I'm learning there will pay off in future, so I must bite the bullet and do it. Also, there will be rewards: when I meet up with new friends made over the internet.

Think I’ll make a marinated macaroni salad today. Just gotta find an hour to do it.

Sometimes Scott has been getting up and drying dishes lately as I wash. It’s lovely; hope it continues. It’s a tiny treat to do something together for a few minutes in a day, even if it’s only working in the kitchen. Other things we do together I shan't write about.

One of Those Days

It's still pretty chilly out there; I wore my ski pants yesterday, and my winter jacket with the hood up, which tells you something.
Haven't been out yet today, at least not further than the step. Hope by the time I go walking, the clouds will have cleared off and the air will be warmer.
Alas, the neck thing is grieving me again today so I may end up lying down and sleeping while a pill works, instead. It's next to impossible to force myself out onto the road when I feel this way. There have been times when I thought getting out into the fresh air might vanquish the thing, but alas, getting a mile from home and not being sure how you'll make it back isn't healing.
I've had a lot of "neck things" already this month — six — so finally I've made an appointment for massage in town. I need to have massage regularly, and to mix the sessions up between two different therapists, one of whom (Hi Ann!) works farther away but heck, I only have to call her and I start feeling better.
I guess the trick is making a bunch of appointments in advance; that's the way to get myself going. Otherwise as soon as I'm feeling normal, I don't bother. The eternal optimist, that's me.
Tsk.
My heart goes out to people with any kind of chronically painful condition. I am only suffering a little discomfort here, and still it colours my entire day. It affects my life, even, as I don't like to commit to anything where my presence is relied upon, just in case I wake up with a migraine that day and my pill doesn't work. I've worked through the migraine before, and it was torturous; I try not to do it. I'm an escapist I guess: let me sleep!

Food, Moose, Coyotes, Snow

From my bathroom mirror

9:43 a.m.

Today’s breakfast smoothies: a banana, an apple,  a handful of spinach, blackberries, strawberries, cubes of frozen soy-almond milk, plain yogurt, skim milk. Delicious!

Naturally I had forgotten to take my camera along when it was time to drive Emil to town after supper, so couldn't take a picture of the young moose that stood only a few moments to look back at me before sticking its chin up in the air and heading for the bush.

Scott passed along the information that, as with horses, the eyes of moose don't reflect your headlights when they're in the ditch along the road.

12:51pm

Is it wrong to make smoothies a second time in one day? I was sitting here thinking it’s time to have a proper (i.e. more solid) meal, when what I really wanted was another smoothie.

So: an apple, spinach, strawberries, blueberries, frozen almond-soy milk, plain yogurt, an orange, an avocado. Looks pretty grey but tastes great. I’ll eat something heavier later; made granola yesterday so that will be quick and easy to get down.

Mmm, smoothies. I go to bed these days looking forward to my morning smoothie. (That almost sounds dirty doesn't it.)

Most of the snow is gone already, but there were a few flakes drifting down again today. I'm off for a brisk walk, shortly.

A pack of about a dozen coyotes was seen behind the barn near the calves at the other farm (a mile south) yesterday. It's unusual to see so many together, so alarm bells are ringing and perhaps a trapper will have to be called in.

Extremes

From this, taken during my walk after arriving home from Karen's yesterday evening ...

to this, taken from the back step just now:



Not that I'm complaining: I'm warm and dry and that's good enough for me.
Scott's probably not. He went out around 8 to do something with cattle — move them? Whatever it is, it won't be a pleasant job in this weather.

Virginia Woolf could at least go to the movies:

Thurs14Jan1915

I think I shall indulge in a picture palace—but why? I shall certainly come out saying to myself, “Nothing will induce me ever to go to a picture palace again.”

Then again, sometimes she spent a quiet day in:

Fri15Jan1915

I began today to treat my corn. It had to be done for a week.