Tracks of What

Haven't been for a walk in an entire week and am starting to miss my road. My back is on the mend though, as long as I don't ignore it. When it says so, I sit or lie down. 

Scott brought home some organic rye flour and I'm chomping at the bit to make some raisin rye bread, but am not allowing myself to. I also didn't bake on Friday; no heavy lifting for this girl ... but wait, what choice do I have? None, that's what. 

Gotta build some upper body strength, which I suppose I knew. 

And it's not really heavy lifting. Or if it is, then only for me. And children and old ladies.  

Deer bound through the snow; moose drag their feet. This must be a deer track; the imprint of its body.

Emil's getting his braces and boots on, ready to head for town so he'll be there to work in the morning.
It's a beautiful bright day so I'll enjoy the drive.

Fawn and Follower

I have just seen my friend Joanne out to the road after a fine visit of two nights, so Emil and I are on our own this afternoon. The kitchen needs attention, and the sky is blue. He would like to "go somewhere" (should've sent him with Joanne!). I would like to lie down, because my back says so.

They take turns following each other.

Julie has posted another poem:
CLICK HERE.

One Small Thing

Corey's friend survived a suicide attempt, and she has been visiting him in the hospital, where he's been for six weeks.

What do you say to your loved one? What can help? You want to say, to do, everything and anything that might possibly make a difference, but you don't know what that should be.

Corey gives her friend a small daily task that is doable, even when we don't have the energy to do anything. It's smart advice. It's a planted seed that, if nurtured just once a day, will make a difference. That seed may not grow into a magical giant beanstalk, but something will come of it. It may not in itself be a fix, or a cure, but none of us knows where it may lead.

Sometimes the treatment seems too simple.

But I can offer no better suggestion than Corey's.

Unwanted Welcome Guests

My friend called; she's on the road and my place isn't too far off her route. She doesn't want to come this way though; rather I should go to her destination to meet up. She's running late, has too much to do.

Before long she phones back, having changed her mind. She'll stop here after all and spend the night, start fresh in the morning. What's for supper? Do I have wine?

She is a welcome guest.
These guys are too, but I know I must chase them off if the cedars are to be saved.

Here we go:

Farewell You Son of Canada

If you are Canadian, nothing more need be said.

Wedding Parties

Flower Girl. My first wedding party.

Spite Houses

I'd never heard of such a thing! Leave it to The Nag to introduce me:

CLICK HERE to see 9 houses built for spite.

Meanwhile here at Golden Grain Farm I am moving slowly but otherwise comfortably after my back decided it had something of great import to tell me. It was going on strike.

I get a little behind on the dishes, and can't stand at the desk as much as I'd like, or get down the road for some cardio. Tried to walk on the weekend and thought myself fortunate not to have to crawl back home; turned around pretty damn quick.

But the afternoon sun quite often streams through the bedroom window and my back gives me the perfect reason to lie atop the quilt Mom and I made, and bask stretch those seized-up muscles.

There are a half-dozen deer coming daily to the yard now, and after dark they appear to play with the barncats. Just now - nearly 2 pm - there is a young deer, less than a year old, closely watching one of this spring's kittens that has run under a truck.

I had best tackle those dishes. It's the second time I've run dishwater for this round and then got onto something else while the water got cold.

Kathy! Bring The Camera

A few yards from our back step.

Time to mosey on I guess.

One Last Look: Moose and Morning Light (for Linde)

Do not tell this guy:

Great White Hunter

Ducky, a.k.a. Buck Duckster the Third

Ducky's into the tequila again.

"Somebody loves me" [or at least, my shoes], "I wonder who ... I wonder who ... he could be."

Doppelganger

Over at the real Stubblejumpers Cafe, or is it the unreal one? Sometimes I can't tell the difference, swear to God. Julie has posted one of her poems. I love her poems.

Go see. CLICK HERE.

Still Kickin'

You know what I do on Fridays. There is a hairnet under this cap.

Thought the dog might appreciate the opportunity to lick out the molasses container, so I cut the top half off and put it outside for her. Apparently I was right: it is a treat. I guess anything that isn't commercial dogfood must be.

Mmm...mmmolasses ...

After several visits when Jenna didn't seem to notice them, she finally barks at the deer. While wagging her tail.

Scott has put a container with some oats out, hoping it will keep them away from the cedars at the front step till he figures out a system that works.

The twins found the birdseed this morning. 

King of the Hill

Meet L'il Lexi

My grandniece is six days old.

Each time we are gifted by a new baby in our family, I think of Mom and how much she would have enjoyed this one, too.

I remember her saying the same thing about Grandpa Emil; Everett was a couple years old when Grandpa died, but was at an age where Grandpa would have found him particularly entertaining.

When Everett was but a babe I rented a lakefront cabin for a summer week and Grandpa drove out in his little truck to visit one morning.

I was gently washing Everett's face with a wet cloth and he was squealing loudly, as they do.

Grandpa: "Nobody likes getting their face washed like that."

Me, after rinsing the cloth in warm water, washing Grandpa's face with it:
"What's not to like?"

Grandpa, surprised: "I guess you're right!"

Sodium

Reprinted from Nightly Newzzz, the Sleep Apnea Newsletter www.sk.lung.ca

Mule Deer

Sweet thing. A twin born last spring. 

Right next to our living room window.

Scott has devised protections for the cedars, but they aren't complete enough.

To follow mom, or eat the cedars ... that is the question.

Big Brother sticks to the oats out in the yard today.

Looking through the windows at us.

Man, if you thought this "system" would keep us away from the cedars, consider yourself deluded.

Saskatoon Stargazer

From http://scienceblogs.com/startswithabang/2009/12/27/weekend-diversion-orion/

Someone in Saskatoon is a stargazer.

Fabulous Find

Ever seen the Eiffel Tower like this?

From The Photoblographer. CLICK HERE.

You want to see all the photos. Get going!

Thanks to Steve Crane of South Africa for the headsUp on this one.

Kathy H.

Kathy H and her son

Kathy H.'s blog is a must-read, for me.
We've never met, but I've kept up with her since discovering her webpage on the "interwebs" (as Brent Butt would say).
Recent entries — like all of them, if you ask me — should not be missed. They make a pretty good intro to Kathy's take on things.

Bread City ~ Part 4

Dishes all done and dusted while bread bakes.

Bread will cool at least four hours before being bagged.

Scarf and apron hung up for the day.

That's when I sink into a tub of steaming water to relax a while before carrying on with the day.
And wouldn't you know it, that's when the deer decide to come into the yard for lunch!
Fortunately Scott is back home doing some bookwork, and calls me when he goes to find the camera:

They approach— a doe, a yearling, and two born this spring.

The doe keeps watch out beyond the truck.

They must be seriously hungry. They are right outside the window where I'm standing, and they can see me.

"I'd hate to lose a tree to them though," Scott says. Finally he can't take it, and goes out to put the hay in their faces. And they all bounce away — sproing! sproing! — like kangaroos.

Bread-baking Day ~ Part 3

Ready to shape into loaves.

Prepared for final half-hour rise.

And into the hot oven they go for an hour.

Bread-Baking Day ~ Part 2

Covered with damp cloth so the dough doesn't dry out, it rises in the draught-free oven.

Time for the first punch-down. Then another 45 minutes to rise.

Greased, ready and waiting.

Scott informs me it was deer outside the front window. There is a set of tiny tracks alongside the larger ones. And the turds are not oblong, like moose ones. Still, I would love to have seen the animals up so close.

Bread Baking Day ~ Part One

Start with something on your head to keep hair from falling into the dough.

I get an early start by measuring out the ingredients the night before, so when I get up in the morning all I have to do is put the liquids on the stove to heat, and give the flour, yeast and salt a stir before adding the lukewarm liquid to it.

The blessed kneading machine.

I set the timer on the stove for 15 minutes once the wet ingredients are mixed into the dry. Go ahead and call it cheating if you like. I still have to lug the heavy motor around, clean the dough hook afterward and wash the giant container. Some days I'm not so sure I've got the better deal. [Yes I do. Fifteen minutes can be very long if you don't find something worth listening to on the radio before you start. Great for the biceps though]. The motor can handle 20 cups of flour so that's the maximum size of a batch; it makes enough dough for 6 loaves.

Seeds go in near the very end; otherwise they will tear the gluten as the dough is kneaded.

It's now in the oven where there's no cool draft, rising its first hour-and-a-half, and that's where I'm at this morning. It's my "easy" day of the week. Besides making the weekly batch of bread, I'll work only two or three hours scheduling social media posts for Straight Goods News. My encyclopedia work is done till Monday.

Scott called me over to the living room window a half-hour ago and pointed out the tracks two feet from the house and a nice little pile of moose turds. Guess who came to dinner? There are two cedar trees by the front step, and someone made himself welcome during the night. I just may sit up through the wee hours with a flashlight now!

In other news, now that the parents and grandparents have had a chance to spread the good word ... my nephew Marc and his wife Michelle have just had their first baby, little Lexi Lou. Lexi Lilian, actually, but she's already Lexi Lou in my mind. Can't wait to go hold and kiss her!

Moose Visit

I've got a moose in my back yard, doo dah, doo dah!

We're in the deep freeze again, so softhearted Scottie let the fat hairy old dog spend the night in the porch. Which means she wasn't barking at everything that moved. Which resulted in: this morning before leaving the house for the first time Scott pointed out moose tracks leading right into the flower bed in the front yard. When he came back, it was to tell me to look out a back window, as a moose was lying on the other side of the dugout, chewing its cud.

It lay there until a magpie landed on its back. After a few swipes with the big nose didn't discourage the bird, the moose got up and stood watching the house for a few minutes (how patient they are!) before reaching up to nibble on twigs and branches.

The deer, too, are hungry enough to come right into the yard. Scott said he'd like to put a bale out for them although there aren't really extra bales aside from what's needed for the cattle. Not long after, he came in and told me he'd put one out by the barn for them.

I like a softhearted man best of all.

Last Month of Winter Begins

coyote trail

You know, it really IS only one month till spring!!!!!!

Woo hoo!
The birds are already singing different songs.

Top o' the Links

I see Ralph's up at the top of my Sask Readables list with some footage of a rough road one snowy night.


Mare's dad doesn't want to watch the Tyrone/Kirsty story anymore either.

See a mist bow in Scotland! First time for me.

And finally, Virginia Woolf has inspired a videogame.

Lilian, I have lost the url to your blog! Please send.

Breathe

Remember to take five minutes just to breathe. 

There is nothing that can't wait five minutes.

I don't have to think about it this moment.

It will be there later.

Breathe. 

What if you knew that this five minutes would change everything that comes after?

Would you make time for it then?

Five minutes. It's nothing, and it's everything.

Farmering

The brothers at work.

This machine makes feed for cattle; they are moving it to the home farm.

Scott picks Ducky up to keep him clear of a grain truck backing out of the quonset.

This page has been tidied up yet again. Webpages that have disappeared from the lists in the side column have been deleted because I never got around to reading them often or because they are rarely updated. If the link to your blog is gone, please let me know when you post a new entry. I'm talking to you, Lasse! Lilian! Elin! Helen! I don't want to miss your new entries.

Mama B and Freight Train

Late afternoon walk

The plan was to take Emil and attend a concert in town tonight: Mama B and Freight Train. (See Shadow House Concerts on Facebook if you live around here). Alas, on Monday I awoke with a cold sore developing beneath my nose, and while it is a lesser lesion than I have had many times before, it remains "sore" (has its name for a reason) and leaves me hardpressed to ignore it and have a good time.

So, I waved my boys out the door and have been reading ... old journals from 1984 ... it seems some things never change ... which is somewhat embarrassing ... and a Deepak Chopra book read once before and not gotten around to a second time till now ... Ageless Body, Timeless Mind.

I've run out of library books, having finished the last one a week ago. Gone Girl kept me guessing right till the end. Not about whodunnit, but what was going to happen. Would there be another murder?

I need a good biography.

Thinking William Blake could be of interest.

On his deathbed he sang for several hours, otherworldly songs that he'd never sung before apparently. I want to know more about that.

Here's Mama B & Freight Train; this is what I'm missing, and so are you:



The audience at the Anglican church tonight will be listening, and quiet. I sent the camera with Scott and hope he'll take some video, if he's not too shy.

Lots of people can sing, but not all of us have a voice that compels listening. This lady sure does.