Ugliest Ashtray Contest

When I bought my little camper, it came with some pots and pans and dishes and this, the ugliest ashtray in the world. It's so ugly that I haven't been able to part with it. I figure there must be an Ugliest Ashtray contest somewhere, someday, and I have the perfect entry!

If you have an ashtray that can top this one for pure disgustability, please send a photo.

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Maggie Turner on "It Begins": 

Your farm is so different than the farm I grew up on Kate! We were in Niagara and grew tender fruit, very labour intensive from March until the snow flew, then nothing. Tender fruit needed all kinds of specialized attention, each type of fruit had its own demands. We didn't have any field crops, crops that could be harvested with a tractor, everything was hand picked, and packed. There were a few tasks that a tractor could do, harrowing the vineyard rows. I love seeing how your farm works! 

It's an education for me too, actually. I never worked on a farm, though I lived on one as a teenager. We had livestock for only two years, I think, and I only had to put the ducks in at night. I don't remember any other chores. It's interesting to see close-up how things are done, especially on an organic farm where they treat illnesses (in cattle or soil or crops) in a different way than conventional farmers do.

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Maggie Turner on "Let's Go to Kelvington": 

That is an incredible picture of Scott and his Grandma! 

He goes up to Kelvington every second Saturday to make supper and eat with her, taking turns with the rest of the family so that Grandma doesn't have to cook anymore. I hadn't gone along for quite a while, so this visit was long overdue.

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Maggie Turner on y"Tealites from Thailand": 

That is a wonderful thing, that the ticks carrying Lyme disease are not in your area! They are in our area, although I haven't seen any, I'm not sure I would recognize them if I saw them. We are using permethrin sprayed clothing, and wearing high rubber boots when walking around in the bush, and we are hoping that will work. But in your hair you say! How do they get up that high, I thought they hung out in the grass, so much for that bit of misinformation. 

 I walked under the trees a couple times, but wasn't in long grass. At least, never for long. A person passes through once in a while. 

I had repellent oils on my shoes and socks and hands and neck, etc., and in my hair! and wore long sleeves and had my jeans tucked into my socks. I also had a hat on part of the time.

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Lorna on "Tealites from Thailand": 

Those are lovely tea light holders. Even though I claim to not be an animal person, I find joy in so much animal-related art.

I still can't imagine what life on a farm can be like---I only know I have none of the skills that would help. 

I don't do any farming, Lorna, so can take no credit for skills, whatsoever. I'm just in the fortunate position of being able to live on a farm without having to grow the crops or feed the livestock. Occasionally at seeding or harvest time when Scott starts early and goes late, I whip up a meal to take to the field if it dawns on me that he might be starving out there, and usually find out that he planned to be home in half an hour so it wasn't necessary. 

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Tealites from Thailand

Our kids got home safely from Asia and brought us this lovely set of tealite candle-holders from Thailand. Gunnar was in Wynyard this past weekend for a funeral on the other side of his family, and Scott and his mom drove over to have breakfast with him on Sunday.

Yesterday I had to run to town on business and then, once out and around, figured I might as well zip over to Karen's at Margo. She had one of her little granddaughters there so I got to see them both. We will have a newborn added to the family next week; can't wait to hold the wee darling!

It was one of those days when it's hot in the sun and cool when the sun goes behind a cloud. So when the yard was shady, I went out and pulled weeds and quackgrass from the perennial bed, and when it was sunbeaten, I stayed in and washed dishes and worked a little on the computer. By suppertime all I wanted to do was take a nap, so that's what I did as soon as I could permit myself to lie down.

It was an early night, that's for sure, and I fell asleep listening to the wild exuberance of bird calls just outside the bedroom window. The soras have returned, and they are the loudest of all at this time as I guess they are doing their courting. I keep saying it sounds like a jungle out there, and yesterday there was a call I could've sworn came from a monkey! Also, I've identified one pair of the ducks on our dugout as Lesser Scaups. Thank goodness for the Birds of Saskatchewan book that my friend and mother-in-law Pat gave me when I moved back to this province.

Today's an actual hot one. I've got the sprinkler running over the flowerbed and will be moving it around all day to water the front lawn. I'll be working at the computer. I'll be baking bread and, of course, washing dishes. Scott's out in the field, cultivating. I didn't see him at all yesterday except for when he brought me the last cup of bitter coffee from the pot before bolting from the house. It got me out of bed so was much appreciated. And I was asleep when he came home at dark.

I did, alas, find two woodticks in my hair yesterday and they had both already bitten into my scalp. Little bastards. And they are hard to discover; I had been checking quite carefully, I thought, and been faithfully applying essential oil repellants to my neck and ears and even my scalp - right about where the little bastards had settled in to make a snack of me. "Those don't work," a couple people said, to which I could only reply that we don't know how many ticks I'd've found had I not slathered myself with the oils. However, the oils are obviously not foolproof. Dammit. Today I have two itchy lumps on my head where the ticks bit.

Last week there was an "expert" on CBC radio, talking about ticks, and she said that here in Saskatchewan we are fortunate that the kind we have are dog ticks, not the kind that spread lyme disease. I hope she is correct, because every year I get tick bites no matter what I do, and usually end up taking a round of antibiotics because of infection from them.

Let's Go to Kelvington

Our tour to Kelvington included a stop at the Co-op store, where we ran into my great-nephew and his dad.

We couldn't pass by the liquor board store without picking up some beer.

Scott's grandma, 107, and Scott, 56. Supper was bean and bacon soup, and pudding.

Then we went to the nursing home and Scott showed his dad some pictures on his phone.

And a couple tick-laden moose on the way home. Click to enlarge. 

It Begins

What should we do next; the brothers take a breather and share their thoughts. 

It's time to bring some cattle over to our place; Scott is carrying stakes for an electric fence.

A mile north of our place is this farmer happy to be in the field.

Synchronicity & Dogs

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Maggie Turner on "Me & Merja": 

Kate, when a series of events like the ones you describe occur, it makes me wonder about the invisible forces that swirl around us, connecting us all in unseen ways. By the way, Attila's father was 100% Finnish, born in Canada, Attila is only 50% Finnish, born in Canada. 

The word for such events, though I neglected to use it, is "synchronicity: The simultaneous occurrence of events which appear significantly related but have no discernible connections."

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Wisewebwoman on "Me & Merja": 

Interesting this. I thought of my Finnish tennis partner when I read this and all the stories she had in the locker room. Trimmest woman ever, could bounce pennies off her abs. Died of cancer. Smoker. Yeah and tennis player. Singles.

I hadn't thought of her in years.

How some people haunt us - like your friend. Nice you could do help the relative out.

Yes it was a real pleasure.

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Wisewebwoman has left a new comment on your post "Me and Ducky Doodle": 

OMG I howled reading this. When I had Chelsea she was forbidden to go on my bed. I had to back to house one morning about 5 mins after I left and I found her literally surfing the duvet. I think it is the smell they're after. They do adore us you know.

They do, which is so sweet.

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Me & Merja

When I was 11 years old and growing up in Margo, a neighbour girl the same age died after a long illness. Her last name was Hanchuk and all these years later I remember her in the month of her passing. On Wednesday morning I was thinking of her. It put me back in her little bedroom, sat at a wee table with her, tying toothpicks into bundles of 10 for use in arithmetic class.

Later that day I overheard that a man whose surname is Hietala has died. He was from my home town and now lived in Wadena. Occasionally I saw him at the café and said hello in passing.

That night I checked my email and found a letter from a woman in Finland. In searching for her relatives who had emigrated to the Margo area in the early 1900s, she had come across my blog and seen photos of the town.

Their surnames?
Hanchuk and Hietala.

I didn't even know those two families were related.

So. Nothing intuitive about this coincidence. No psychic abilities reflected here. It's just one of those coincidences that makes me quizzical, in a pleasant way, as if it's a sign that I'm right at a certain spot in my life that I'm meant to be. Like a reassurance.

This morning I found the Hanchuk and Hietala family histories in the book and scanned them for their Finnish cousin, Merja.

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Ralph Goff has left a new comment on your post "Kaddidly Hop": 

Reminiscent of "Clem Kadiddlehopper", a tv character I used to watch as a kid. Was it Red Skelton or was it one of Gordie Tapp's characters on Country Hoedown? I guess I need to look it up now. 

I remember Clem too. Thought Red Skelton was the best! 

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Me and Ducky Doodle

There is a certain dog that has to be where the people are. He will follow you from room to room until you sit down; he wants to know where you're going to be, before he settles himself in. He has a bed in just about every room of the house.

During the days I'm at work, he is home alone all day. We leave the radio on for him, and we hurry back, not liking leaving him alone so long. He's a people dog. Well, they all are, aren't they. What have we done to deserve this affection and loyalty from dogs? We are fortunate. 

One day Scott returned and found Ducky on the bed — he is not supposed to be on the furniture at all unless he's on our laps or has been invited, and he is definitely not allowed on the beds — and not only on the bed, but curled up on my pillow! Little hairy smelly bugger. I make a point, now, of closing the bedroom door before I leave in the morning.

Yesterday while getting ready to go out the door, I came back into the office and found:

Mom gave me the Kenko seat, which is lined with magnets and getting worn out.

He is incorrigible. 

Have you seen that video where the dog's owner leaves a camera set up and as soon as he exits, the dog starts leaping around on the bed where it is not allowed? 

This reminds me of that. 

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Maggie Turner has left a new comment on your post "Oh Honestly Erin": 

Erin says the kinds of things I wish I could have said when my kids were growing up!! What fun! 

I wish I could've said them half so well as she does!

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Sharyn Mallow Woerz on "Kaddidly Hop": 

Red Skelton did this on his TV show. A little hop and a jangle of a cow bell. He'd always try to get the off-camera bell jingler off guard.. I too do it occasionally. 

Right you are! I remember that, being a big Red Skelton fan as I was growing up.

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Kaddidly Hop

One of Grandpa Benson's quirks that I have inherited is the occasional desire to do a joyful little kadiddly-hop dance as I make my way across a room.
I remember him doing it sometimes when he was walking to the kitchen at their house in Margo. He was just feeling good, man!
Not his words, but it was clear.
And I catch myself at work on the verge of doing it, and damper myself down, just as I do with my habitual humming and singing so as not to annoy my co-workers.
I'm such a nerdling.

Scott was at the kitchen table when I got up this morning, filling in the farm census form. 

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Lorna on "Whose Path is This?": 

Well Kate, in case you didn't know, you matter to me. 

Awwww, thanks, Lorna! I'm pretty darn fond of you too.

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Erin on "Oh Honestly Erin": 

 Your words genuinely made me tear up at work -- thank you! I'm really glad that I can make you laugh out loud. And thank you again for including me in this. It means a lot! Thank you for the sweet words! It was an honor to be included in this. Love you! <3 nbsp="" p="">

You have a rightful place on my Top Five list, Erin.

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Lorna on "Oh Honestly Erin": 

It's easy to see the appeal in her work---in fact, it doesn't read like work; it reads like over the fence. Good choice! 

I've no doubt you'd get as much of a kick out of Erin (and Henry!) as I do.

Oh Honestly Erin

How did I find Erin's blog? I don't remember, but I know it was the title that grabbed my attention and made me follow the link to her webpage. Her sense of humour pulled me in before I even got started reading her witty outpourings.

Erin is a lot younger than I am, and blogs written by people this much younger rarely speak to me for long, even when their authors write as well as Erin does. I've "been there, done that" and in most cases am not intrigued in the least by the way they experience their days and approach their challenges. I'm well past their stage of life and am looking for different insights, for intelligence that touches me where I am now or where I am going.

Erin and I don't have the same interests. We don't like the same music. We don't spend our time in any of the same ways. But Erin is one of the few writers who consistently makes me laugh out loud. OUT LOUD. That is beyond valuable to me. It delights and uplifts. And this is why I read — why I read anything at all outside of the work essentials. It's not for education, it's not for connection; it's for pleasure.

Also, I'm a huge fan of Erin's fella, Henry. The way she characterizes the longsuffering Henry cracks me up; I am dreaming of her biography about him, because it will be a laugh a minute. She teases him mercilessly and he hangs in there, taking care of business, sensible, solid and strong.  He might just be the grownup in the family (of course you know, Erin, that I'm teasing here), while Erin is the one chasing down the fun and making everyone's lives more interesting. Every grownup needs someone like Erin, and every Wild Child like Erin needs someone like Henry in her corner!

Go see for yourself. Erin's answers to my questions are below, followed by the link to her page.

1. What flowers, if any, will you plant this spring?
Every spring I start haranguing Henry about planting a garden and he always gives me some monotoned, canned response about how we "don't have room" and "[something something] sunlight" which basically just means, "Please don't give me more work, I just want to nap." However, I'm really into succulents so I will definitely be adding to my house plant collection. I'd like to get some large potted cacti!

2. Do you have a #1 must-see, can't-wait-till-later blog right now (not a relative or close friend, though it can be themed and does not have to be a personal blog; of course, my blog is disqualified so my feelings cannot be hurt -- hee!), and why does it keep you coming back for more? 
Aside from a handful of friends' blogs (yours included!) I really don't read many other blogs. I always check out a few music websites though, Absolute Punk being my favorite (wait---they recently changed their name to Chorus.fm but it'll always be Absolute Punk in my heart). I used to really enjoy A Beautiful Mess because they had some good DIYs that I would assign to Henry (lol) but now they kind of get on my nerves so when I do check in, I usually just skim and leave.

3. What are your other common stopping places on the Internet? Please list up to five and give me their urls. I'm sure you've got at least that many. 
Http://chorus.fm
http://gomiblog.com
Http://Altpress.com
Http://Stereogum.com
http://substreammagazine.com
I'm boring and mostly just read music reviews!

4. When you go to a potluck meal, do you have a best dish that you usually take? If so, what is it and do you share your recipe? If so, please do.
I do this really annoying thing to Henry every time my department has a potluck, where I find some overly complicated//hipster-approved//vegan//78-step recipe written in French that has an ingredient list that rivals the amount of our monthly cable bill, and I say, "Here, you have to make this for a thing that you weren't invited to." Also, I usually wait until the night before to tell him this. He made a honey lavender pie once that was a huge hit, the recipe for it can be found here: http://thebakingbird.com/pie/salted-lavender-honey-pie/

5. What's your idea of a fabulous holiday? Is it one you have already taken, or one you hope to take before you die?
I'm a go-go-go type of traveler so beach vacations are usually lost on me. Actually, as I'm typing this, my family and I are on our way home from a week in Orlando, FL, where we spent two days at Disney and three days at Universal Studios. My son and I are huge theme park lovers (Henry spends a lot of time holding my purse and sitting on benches) so this was an Erin-approved vacation. I also enjoy road-tripping/traveling for concerts. We'll be going to Michigan next month for Bled Fest, Maryland a month later for the Cure (whom I've also traveled to Australia to see because they're my #1 band forever!), and hopefully in September we'll be going to Chicago for our third Riot Fest. I love music festivals and to me, that's the equivalent of a fancy spa retreat --- it soothes my souls and recharges me!

My dream vacation though is Romania. I'm determined to get there someday even though I have developed a crippling fear of flying in my older age.

I hope these answers are good enough! Please excuse any typos -- typing on my phone in the car is not ideal but I wanted to get these back to you sooner rather than later. Thanks again for including me!

http://www.ohhonestlyerin.com/

Whose Path is This?

This is the last of the dry brown photos for this season. (You're welcome!) The leaves started coming out last week and since we have had rain that started yesterday, the green things are really cookin' out there. Soon the bush will be filled in and it will be more difficult to see these well-hidden paths that the wildlife use.

Click to enlarge

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Maggie Turner on "Missing Monte": 

Monte's Road is interesting, as I think of where you live as perfectly flat! Those beaver dams, they were a real issue for my Grandpa in the north, flooded fields. The beavers sure work fast! 

Most people picture Saskatchewan as flat and, granted, there is plenty of flat land, especially further south in the province. Where I live, the land undulates. How to describe it? It's flattish overall, but when you look more closely you see that it's not really flat. 

People who come here from B.C., for instance, don't seem to notice that. To them it looks flat — which makes some sense, in comparison to places that have mountains and serious hills. Considering that most people who travel through Saskatchewan use Highway #1, the TransCanada, which cuts across the flat fields in the south, one can't blame them for not knowing that the geography across the province is varied. We have the Cypress Hills, the Qu'Appelle Valley, the Moose Mountains — gorgeous gentle valleys — and much more. Not far north of here is the beginning of the tree line, and not far from there are forests and rocks and lakes galore.

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Wisewebwoman on "Missing Monte": 

Monte's Road threw me back about twenty odd years, I would walk such a road with my friend Burt who died, oh 15 maybe years ago now. Burt thought he was invisible too, he so very wasn't. Like Monte.

XO

WWW 

Maybe it's not unusual to think we don't matter much to other people. Maybe lots of times, too, we don't realize how much another person matters to us until we are losing or have lost them. 

Missing Monte

We were parked down by Monte's place while Scott did what he could to take apart a beaver dam one evening.

This past January was two years since our friend and neighbour Monte died suddenly. He worked for a farmer just north of our place, and often drove past me when he was on his way to or from the field or the shop where they worked on machinery, repairing or getting it field-ready. When Monte wasn't in a hurry, he'd stop and chat for a few minutes. We'd known each other since we were teenagers; and Monte and Scott had been neighbours and friends since they were little boys. 

One time Monte said, "No one would miss me if I was gone tomorrow."

"That's not true, Monte!" I told him.

And it isn't true, either. We think of him often and we do miss him.

Monte's road; click to enlarge.

The dam is about two feet high.

Scott got the water flowing, but by early next morning the beavers had it dammed up again.

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Wisewebwoman has left a new comment on your post "Lost Day": 

I just had one myself, a bad attack of IBS when I was planning on shopping for groceries and urgencies. Slept 3 hours solid in the afternoon, unplanned days off, feel much better now and hope you do too, so sorry you missed the theatah.

Yep, right back to normal the next morning. It's good to be alive and feeling normal, ain't it?  Glad you've improved too.

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Annette Erickson has left a new comment on your post "Lost Day": 

It is beautiful and your pic shows it. I have a good idea of the sound effects so I can hear them just by looking at the picture. 

I just love it. Sounds like being in the jungle!  No monkeys screeching, no lions roaring, no elephants trumpeting, but so many different birds ... not to mention the frogs ... it's quite heavenly.

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Teresa has left a new comment on your post "Lost Day": 

Sorry to hear of your troubles and missing out on the fun. Hope you are feeling better. 

Good as new. Well, almost. Woke up "neckish" this morning (Mon.) but it looks like it's going to smarten up. Fingers crossed.

Lost Day

Yesterday was an unpleasant waste — the usual affliction that often tends to hit me on Saturdays — why is that, I wonder? Is it because I've just spent three days in an office chair?  As usual, I'm never sure I have the real answer.

I laid on the couch most of the day, where I could hear the TV, and later when I moved to the bedroom was when I almost fell asleep and started feeling, if not 100%, at least as if I wasn't suffering anymore.

At about 5 o'clock I felt hungry as opposed to nauseated at the thought of food. A good sign, I figured. Maybe I'd nibble on some sausage and crackers, make a speedy recovery, and have time to get ready to go to the dinner theatre we had tickets for.

It was not to be. I missed our evening out, watching Scott's brother Bruce onstage in a musical comedy put on by the local theatre group. While amateur theatre in my experience tends to drag a little, being a musical adds life to a show, and I would have enjoyed at least the musical parts of it. As it was, my ticket went to waste.

Down the road with Scott one evening while he dug out part of a beaver dam. Click image to enlarge. Looking at it small does't do it justice. It was beautiful out there. I said to Scott at least twice, "Man, we are lucky to live here." I guess my snapshots don't do it justice; not least because you don't get the sound effects! The birds are a glory these days.

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Maggie Turner has left a new comment on your post "Prairie Chicken": 

Thanks for the pics of the prairie chicken, they remind me of partridges which abounded around my Granny and Grandpa's house, and we had many a meal. My Grandparent's always ate their own meat, mostly wild game, and Grandpa butchered it all himself. It sure gave us a healthy respect for what was involved in putting meat on the table. I am not a big meat eater, I owe to the family hunters Grandpa and my Dad, and eating our beloved cow Maybelle on the farm where I grew up. I really don't know how people raise an animal with a name and personality, and then eat it, baffling. 

Yes, that part is difficult to understand. Farm kids go through the experience early — of raising an animal and then having to sell it or let it be butchered. Scott still has a hard time with that because some of their cattle are quite tame and many are like pets ... they like to be scratched, and they have names and definite personalities.

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Wisewebwoman has left a new comment on your post "Mulie Mama": 

She's a wee beauty, I hope she finds a good birthing spot. And a doulah. A good doulah.

And I hope she doesn't like the taste of my flowers!

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Lorna has left a new comment on your post "Mulie Mama": 

Happy Mother's Day.

Thanks, Lorna. Same to you! 

We're just about to take Scott's mom out for lunch before stopping at a family greenhouse to pick up a thing or two, though I'm cutting seriously back on annuals this year. I swear, I am. 

 I'm starving! Two inches of farmer's sausage (yuk; but it was handy) and a fistful of soda crackers for supper last night just didn't cut it. I didn't have the energy to prepare anything properly, and Scott was going out for supper, and had just come home to clean up and go out the door to the dinner theatre show, so I was on my own. 

Mulie Mama

Yesterday morning as I drove to town, I thought I could see a tinge of green in the distant poplars. It was so faint that I could have been imagining it. But tonight, there is no doubt: the leaves are popping out.

Before pulling into our farmyard I thought I saw a deer standing behind some bush across the road, very still, watching. I stopped and looked, but she was so still she blended in with the grey trees.

Not long after, I headed down the driveway for a short stroll, and there she was, watching.

I stood still and snapped a picture. 

And zoomed in a little. Click to enlarge. Isn't she beautiful? She's a mule deer. 

By the time I zoomed in for the close up, she'd been spooked. Darn it.

She has been in our yard several times over recent days. Scott says she is looking for a safe place to give birth. She has checked out the area next to the barn and I've seen her bounding out the driveway. 

Sometimes I think I should add a "Wild Animals I Have Seen Today" feature to this blog. Usually it would just be birds, I suppose. But lots of them. Lately there's been some kind of swallow-tailed light brown, small hawk about. Hunting the songbirds, I suppose. I'm still waiting to hear a sora and will be sorely disappointed if one doesn't come here this year. The snipes are back, though, with their constant woo-woo-woo-woosh high above as they dive for their supper. Here's one taking a rest:

Prairie Chicken

Four days of the week belong to me. When the weather is fine, I am outside as much as possible, although sometimes early in the spring there isn't much to do out there except walk around.

On Tuesday, a hot day, I worked five hours from my home office. I set the stove timer for an hour at a time and after each notifying ping, I went outside to move the sprinkler (Scott thinks if we deep-water the lawn, maybe it will choke out the dandelions), stroll to the end of the driveway, rake leaves off the flower beds, pull some quackgrass from the perennial bed, move some pots, stand on the step and watch the ducks and mudhens fighting loudly (lots of violent splashing!) in the dugout in our back yard, and so on. There is a lot of action out there, in the sky and on the water.

The white-throated sparrows turned up in the yard on Tuesday. Like the robins, which seem particularly large (must've been some good eating in the southern hemisphere this winter), they will hop from tree to tree alongside me when I'm walking. I can't help thinking they find me as curiously fascinating as I find them.

One evening I took a leisurely walk to the north.

I didn't notice anything special in the flooded ditch east of our yard. 

Spruce grouse or, as we call them, prairie chickens, apparently don't like to be ignored. Normally they seem very timid, but this one made a point of calling me back. I didn't even know prairie chickens made this particular loud sound! But I turned around and went back to see what the noise was, and here was this chicken demanding my attention:

A beautiful bird, but no wonder I didn't see it standing there on the branch, still as death.

We stood looking at each other for quite a long while. I had time to zoom the camera in as much as possible — still not enough, but best I could do!

Click to enlarge.

Finally, little Ducky Doodle came trotting along, catching up to me, and the prairie chicken decided to make its exit, and flew back into the bush.

There has been a lot of breast-pounding going on all around our yard as a prairie chicken tries to attract a mate. Or maybe there is more than one male around; who knows. They all look the same, right?

On Tuesday afternoon I had the pleasure of seeing a male, beside our house, with his neck ruff extended in a black circle around his head. He had his eye on a chicken that was crossing our lawn and followed it, haltingly but with great concentration, into the trees. Fingers are crossed that it was a female and that the boychik managed successfully to make his case. If so, we will be seeing the parents with their chicks in a few weeks. It's been a while since we've had that pleasure; you'll recall that our chicken patriarch lost his family to a road grader one winter several years ago and has been lonely and alone ever since.

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Maggie Turner has left a new comment on your post "Maggie Turner Answers 5 Questions": 

Thanks so much much Kate! You have some humdinger ideas, you do! 

I'd love to take credit for the idea but saw something similar elsewhere and thought "I could do that!"

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Lorna has left a new comment on your post "Trigger Alert: Garter Snake Photo": 

Wood ticks would do me in. On the other hand, I can make teenagers stop harassing the homeless at the Rideau Centre. 

Then my hat's off to you. Wood ticks creep me out, and freak me out when I find one on MOI.

Maggie Turner Answers 5 Questions

Not long after I first learned that people were keeping journals online, I came across the webpage of John Bailey (Old Grey Poet), who lived in Britain with his partner Graham and their grand Maine Coon cat. I followed John's blog and when after several years he decided he'd had enough, he stopped writing there. Maggie Turner and I, faithful readers, have been missing him ever since, but at least we have each other! Maggie's journal has been at the top of my reading list for many years now.

When I discovered her webpage, she was living with her husband and their cat in Ontario's lake country in a house heated by a masonry stove. They recently moved to the city, into a small house named Mist Cottage in memory of their cat, whose life came to an end at the same time as the couple's country life. They are still adjusting to the changes, still unpacking, and Maggie is still approaching every detail of her days methodically, with great care and practicality.

One of the things I like about Maggie's blog is that she writes about everything she (they, often) is tackling, so that I feel I am getting an actual taste of her daily life. I admire her ambition when it comes to repairing and renovating; nothing seems to daunt her. She diligently does her research and then takes the first step and carries on till completion (while I, in comparison, often don't take that first step because the number of them seems overwhelming). She is frugal as well; money is never spent carelessly, although quality is a priority. Maggie shares those kinds of struggles and that keeps me in her corner, rooting for the pair of them as they march thoughtfully through their life together.

1. What flowers, if any, will you plant this spring?

I want to plant scarlet runner beans, which are not flowers exactly, because you can eat the beans.  The flowers on the scarlet runner beans are so pretty growing along the fence. I can look at them out my kitchen window in the morning all summer long; the colour hits me like sugar in my morning coffee.

I want to plant nasturtiums, because I love the leaves as much as the flowers, and I can eat the flowers, but I never do.

I want to plant borage for the bees, and because I find it beautiful.

2. Do you have a #1 must-see, can't-wait-till-later blog right now (not a relative or close friend, though it can be themed and does not have to be a personal blog; of course, my blog is disqualified so my feelings cannot be hurt -- hee!), and why does it keep you coming back for more?

A must-see blog!  Truthfully, all of the blogs I follow are must-see blogs, if I know there is a new entry up I am chomping at the bit to read it.  The most-read blog would be "The Walden Effect" http://www.waldeneffect.org/blog/, only because Anna and Mark both post daily.

3. What are your other common stopping places on the Internet? Please list up to five and give me their urls. I'm sure you've got at least that many.

My most visited stopping places are the weather web sites.  I check them as soon as I get up in the morning.  I favour both:

Environment Canada http://weather.gc.ca/canada_e.html    and 

The Weather Network  http://www.theweathernetwork.com/ca/

I check for new blog entries every morning.

Frequently I am using my account at Ancestry.ca to work on my genealogy book, and checking realtor.ca to see what the market is doing in my areas of interest, which is how I found the little house we live in, and our Camps, two plots of land we purchased for camping.

The rest of my time online is spent randomly researching ideas, like how to remove mildew from a trailer canopy, trying to reap the benefit of someone else's experience.

4. When you go to a potluck meal, do you have a best dish that you usually take? If so, what is it and do you share your recipe? If so, please do.

Ah, the potluck meal.  I used to love potluck meals.  I think the last time I participated in a potluck meal I took along Guacamole and corn chips, that was over 23 years ago, I don't remember what recipe I used.  These days we make Guacamole by adding tangy salsa to mashed avocado, it is quick and very tasty.

I stopped going to potluck meals because I found that if I relaxed and enjoyed myself, I had a tendency to try one of the tasty dishes.  I have anaphylaxis, which I acquired suddenly in 1984 (quite the year for such a development, shades of George Orwell).  I am deathly allergic to a preservative that is used in a lot of packaged foods, and is even used in the packaging itself.  Eating at a potluck dinner is like playing Russian Roulette.  I love life, I don't eat at potluck dinners, no matter how sure the cooks are about what is in their food; I lived through one mistaken memory about ingredients and won't chance another.

Since all that is left to enjoy at potluck dinners is the excellent company, I do focus on that, and that is where my problem lies.  I relax, I enjoy, I forget vigilance, pop a lovely looking bit of food into my mouth, and there I am, wondering if I am going to make it, sometimes heading for the hospital just in case.  Not fun.  The other down side of potluck dinners for me is that when I don't eat people want to know why.  I explain.  They feel bad for me, bless their souls.  Not fun for me, or them.  I try to focus on social events that do not involve food, and I am here to tell you that there aren't many events like that... humans love their food!

5. What's your idea of a fabulous holiday? Is it one you have already taken, or one you hope to take before you die?

My dream holiday is to travel with my little travel trailer, across Canada, visiting people I've met online, distant relatives I've only corresponded with, Museums, Archival Libraries, Music Festivals, National and Provincial Parks, and towns where my ancestors and distant relatives settled.  I'd like to journal the whole experience.  Then I would like to come home to my cozy little house.  I hope to live long enough, and stay healthy enough, to see Attila retire and have the opportunity to follow our dream.

And there you have it Kate, thanks for asking!

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Would you like to visit Maggie's blog for yourself? CLICK HERE.

Trigger Alert: Garter Snake Photo

Saw my first bumblebee of the season on Sunday. Wonder what they are finding to eat out there. Kinda worried about them. Haven't noticed a single thing blooming around here yet.

Made Shelly's recipe for gingerbread but even after baking them an extra 10 minutes they are soft and gooey and not like hers at all. Not sure what I did wrong. They're delicious so it's no loss, but I'll check my ingredients list against her original and if it's not a matter of mistaken copying on my part, I'll add more flour and set the oven temperature higher next time. Then I'll post the recipe over at Stubblejumpers Cafe for those who are interested. Once I get a handle on it, the recipe for these cookies is a keeper.

This little fella scooted out of my way when I strolled across the road toward the hill in the old farmyard. Made me screech! Not afraid of it. It surprised me, that's all:

Click to enlarge if you want to see its little face looking back at you. 

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But frick! Just found a wood tick crawling on my throat. FarTA! Now that freaks me out every time. Might have to start living somewhere else in the summer. Honest to God.
Says she who strikes out across the tall dry grass, well aware it's prime woodtick habitat but thinking, "Not gonna let those little bastards keep me from livin'."
Unless, of course, they do.

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Wisewebwoman has left a new comment on your post "You Don't Say":
I love the calendar pic. Joyfully "springy" - we need more spring in our lives.
XO
WWW
PS Moose count by me one year was 16!! One charged my dog on my meadow, saucy thing. This year 0.

Surely that low count will soon be remedied!
I haven't seen a moose in our yard for quite a while, but Scott says there was a mule deer in my perennial bed early this morning and a whitetail by the quonset.

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Prairie Child has left a new comment on your post "Method Dishwashing": 

Haha- great post..... I do the dishes very similar to you..... Must have been 4h, although I can't say I sweep the floor.....

And I also hate dog licks..... Gary lets the dogs slurp all over his face ..... Ick. I think I might try licking his face and see if he lets me...... I'll keep you posted. I might be offended if he doesn't! 

Heh! Be sure to wag your tail at the same time. I'll be waiting to hear. 

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Julie has left a new comment on your post "The Way You Make Love": 

K, I find you very generous and kind. It's not about tit for tat, is it? 

Right you are; it's not. And thanks. I'm happy to hear you think that.

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Annette Erickson has left a new comment on your post "Method Dishwashing": 

I tend to agree - there's a method to washing dishes. Only makes sense - doesn't it?

Dog slobber referred to as "kisses" still boils down to dog slobber if you ask me. And I love dogs. 

There are probably as many different methods as there are people.  For instance, I used to know someone who always washed dishes in cold water. Imagine how that felt on the hands.

   I love dogs too, but like you say ... slobber is slobber.

Method Dishwashing

"How come you're just getting started?" she said, picking up a dishtowel. "I thought you'd be half done by now!"

The leftovers were put away and the dirty dishes were stacked next to the sink, which was full of soapy hot water, cutlery and cooking utensils. The table, counters, stove and fridge handle were wiped down, and the kitchen floor may even have been swept. I had just plunged my hands into the suds, and Shelly had left whatever she'd been doing with our friend Cathy, with whose family in rural Manitoba we'd just had a splendid meal, and come to help.

"Just doing it the way my mother taught me," I replied. My friend had been five when her mother died of breast cancer, and had probably had to find her own way through housework. The bulk of it had very likely fallen on her and her sister, the two youngest in a farm family with four older boys.

It wasn't till quite some time later that I remembered it wasn't Mom who taught me how to do dishes. I learned my method in the 4-H Club that I joined at age nine in our little village of Margo. The club was a going concern back then; probably every kid in the community was a member. My first two years were in the cooking courses, and doing dishes in a practical way was part of the first year's lessons.

The method, you ask? As if everyone doesn't follow the same one! Well, do you?

Clear the table and clean the kitchen first, so you have wiped your counters and table, etc., with a cloth soaked in hot soapy water and you have a pleasant place to do your work.
Then wash the silverware, followed by the glassware. All this while the water is hottest and cleanest. Then the plastics, before the water gets greasy. Then the pots and pans. Voila, tout fini.

Just this morning as my coffee brewed, I washed, dried and put away the few dishes Scott had left in the sink last night. For me, one secret to enjoying this duty rather than finding it endless drudgery is to wash dishes often, while there aren't many, instead of in one big production. The other secret is not to hurry while thinking of other things I want to do instead. It also helps to be listening to some good radio or some music I like, but nowadays I just open the window and listen to the frogs and birds. It sounds like a jungle around our yard.

"Why does the dog get these nice dishes!" she exclaimed.

And to this same friend, my dear Shelly, I replied, "Because I have to see the dog dishes every day."
This is my way of handling the fact that the alternatives would be ugly. Old plastic bowls are ugly and so are discarded pots that we might otherwise use to feed our pups, and the commercial pet food bowls that people buy are not anything to swoon over, either.
If I have to see something every day, let it please my eye.
There's a matching platter still in the cupboard, rarely used. I've had them for more than 25 years.

I didn't say, "If you want them, take them," which, since she seemed to think they were such nice dishes, I would have if I'd thought of it.
I didn't think of it because you could sanitize them 10 times over in industrial-strength liquid and I'd still not eat off them after a dog has.

Of course I know that many people let their dogs eat off the dishes that come off their dining room table, or out of the roasters they've cooked their meat or casseroles in, and they wash these in hot water afterward and a dog's germs won't kill ya, so what's the big deal? No doubt I've eaten off the same dishes as a family pet many times while visiting people's homes. I'm just glad no one has reminded me of that while I was chowing down on the delicious meal they've served me, as it would ruin my appetite. Dogs eat cat shit if they can get it and lick each other's asses and their own genitals. I don't want to eat from the same dishes they do; I don't care how well the items have been sanitized. Just one of my funny little quirks. And I have a few.

Another is that I don't like it when dogs lick my skin.
"Their germs won't hurt you," say those who allow dogs to wash their faces for them or lick their mouths, and even encourage it. Yuk.
Here's the thing: I wouldn't like it if a human licked my face either.

The Way You Make Love

From A Year With Rumi, Daily Readings translated by Coleman Barks:

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

*This is Rumi's variation on the golden rule.

It has given me pause.

Thank you, Julie, for making a gift of this book some years ago.
You've given me many gifts! and I haven't kept up the balance from my end.
I'm concerned that this may be one of the stories of my life ...
I hope not.