Fairies and Flowers

I Like Mondays Just Fine

Red Rose tea with last fall's rosehips

     Midafternoon tea. Ahhhh... make a habit of it, if you don't already.
     Another sunny day but cool. Frost has finally gotten all the sunflowers that volunteered themselves beneath the oak trees, due to the bird feeder.
    Scott and I are getting closer to making a travel plan. It's almost impossible for him to get away, but I’m putting the screws to him  – I have to know one way or another so I can organize myself for the big trek out west. Fall is the time to visit Kelowna (if you don't like excessive heat, heavy traffic, or snowy mountain roads), so we need to get a move on.
    Last night in bed I read for a while and then put out the light and laid my head on my pillow with the moonlight streaming through the window, onto my face. So peaceful and lovely. I don’t know what thought got me started, or even if there was one (must have been), but I had an intensely sorrowful though brief cry because Mom is gone.
   This is relatively rare and always surprises me, because I haven't seen Mom for FIVE YEARS. I've been expecting to feel the pain of her death only on a more shallow level as the time goes by. But while time may heal the pain of loss in some ways, occasionally it doesn't seem to make a damn bit of difference.

Things in Trees

Home for a Bird

Finally I found a place to put this thing!

Trusty birdfeeder

Milk-cow owners who couldn't afford a fancy cream separator would pour fresh milk into this pail and in the morning the cream would be sunk to the bottom and would be drained off via the spout.

As you will see from the comments, my mistaken notion that cream is heavier than milk has been corrected. The caption beneath the pail above is a perfect example of my apparently skewed logic, which still doesn't allow me to believe that cream is lighter than milk or, for instance, that buttermilk is less fatty than milk. And yet -- cream rises to the top, so it must be lighter even though it looks thicker and heavier, as does buttermilk. I've never been able to make sense of it.

He Makes Me Laugh

Scott cuddles the baby

Ask any woman what she looks for in a man, and I can almost guarantee that in the top 3 qualities she lists you will find "A sense of humour." Apparently we women expect the poor fellows to entertain us as well as admire and cuddle us, empty the mousetraps and take out the garbage.

Last night our friends Faye and Rick came over for a few drinks and Faye was goodheartedly teasing her husband about the state of his eyes when he's "indulged" a little too much. She pointed out that one eye then appears twice the size of the other.

Scott quipped, "When your eyes look like that, Rick, it means someone is having a sexual fantasy about you right this moment."

***

Reply to Comments
Cindy – Whole wheat perogies would have to grow on a person, methinks. However, my sister Karen could give you a lesson in basic perogy-making -- she is a pro!

Whole Wheat Perogies

Everett learned to make perogies in home ec class when he was still in school, and had a little "pinching practice" when he helped me and Karen once or twice during perogy-making bees. Earlier this week he started talking about making fresh perogies, just enough for one meal, and yesterday he went for it.

Now, there is a reason most people don't use whole wheat flour to make perogies. It's heavier, and has more flavour, than white flour. But my Everett has "the touch" and although his perogies with their whole wheat casings do not taste like your average perogy, they were still delicious. His cheese/potato filling was divine. I think he could give some of our local Ukrainian babas a run for their money.

***

The song recording I promised you was uploaded to Youtube for two or three hours yesterday, only to finish off with the message that an error had occurred and I was S.O.L.
What to do? Darned if I know.
First of all, why should it take two or three hours to upload a three-minute recording? I haven't suffered through dialup for a year already!
If you are computer tech whiz, feel free to jump in here with advice. I would like to be able to share the recording. If I'm lucky Scott will spend some time figuring out where I went wrong, and will have better luck with it. He's got a hell of a lot more patience than I do when it comes to computer glitches.

***

From Love’s Alchemy, Poems from the Sufi Tradition:

Action

Regardless of how much knowledge
You might acquire,
You are still ignorant
Without action —

You would be neither scholar nor learned,
But an animal carrying books.

A donkey doesn’t know
whether it’s carrying books
or firewood.

Sa ‘di

***

8:21pm
Scott phones for a pickup from the other place and I go out and walk toward the van. It’s dark and it’s raining lightly, and the yardlight is sparkling on the grass, and for a moment I am reminded of snow and disappointed that it’s only rain. I am startled to find myself looking forward to the beauty of winter.

A Night Out In Wa-Town

Emil with Doc during the intermission, when we all lumbered down to the church basement for cookies and coffee.

I thought I'd try out my camera's videomaking capabilities, and managed a not-too-bad recording of Mr MacLean onstage, though the lighting wasn't very good. It is presently being uploaded to Youtube but I'll add it here later for your listening pleasure, blues lovers.

Emil says he just might let his beard grow as long as Doc's.

Reply to Comments
What happened to my favourite beach? In 2007 Fishing Lake flooded due to heavier-than-usual rainfall and inadequate drainage. If you're in Canada, you saw it on the national news quite a bit that spring. Homeowners along the shoreline are still dealing with waves, on windy days, breaking up their boat launches and smashing against their back steps. It was a real mess and it still is.

Doc is in the House

Photo lifted from Doc's webpage.

Picture this guy without the lifejacket, with a guitar, and — I'm guessing because that's how he stepped on stage last year at this time — wearing a dark suit and a fedora. This is blues musician Doc MacLean, who is performing in Wadena tonight at 7:30 at the Anglican church. Emil's got his tickets (for him and his former aide, Sheila, who is going to take him) and he's so excited.

I asked a couple people if they knew about the show tonight and they responded that they weren't into "churchy" stuff. I thought, but did not say out loud, that I'm pretty sure Doc's got enough of the devil in him to squelch any preconceived notions about what kind of music gets put on in churches. Heh!

I've got to get back to work until it's time to leave, but Doc's webpage is here. Poke around there until you find a link to listen to his music; it's there somewhere. Also, he is touring across Canada and is blogging about it as time permits, so do go check it out. He's a good storyteller and, while I have no desire to traipse across the land myself right now (but I will, Dad and Joan, I will soon!), I sure enjoy reading about all the welcoming people he meets and beautiful places he goes.

He'll be in Saskatoon tomorrow and in Edmonton on the weekend. If you like the blues, don't miss him.

Emilisms

My favourite beach is no more. 

Still, we could park along the road and listen to the waves gently caressing the shore and bask in the light reflecting off the water and breathe in the satisfying scent of lake.

Emilisms
My son is one of a kind but it's difficult to describe him. Best to let him speak for himself. Now granted he has heard these words from someone but he has made them his own, mostly by his earnest and repetitive nature:

1. Mom. I'm the best thing that ever happened to you.
2. I'd better listen or else there will be consequences and I won't like them I can guarantee you that.
3. Mom. I'm the one that always likes to give you kisses.
4. I graduated when I was 19 but I went to school till I was 22 because when you work full-time you don't get as many holidays. I'm pretty smart.

Shirley's Latest Creation

Aunt Shirley has completed her quilt. I think she said the pattern is "Grandma's Flowers."

***

I've twisted Joanne Bohl's arm to write a little column for the blog, and she has made a first entry in Out Margo Way. See the link on the left side. Joanne and Mom were very close friends and Mom always loved Joanne's storytelling. Joanne is also a journaller or diarist so there is material to be mined. With luck she will add something new every day! Heeeeeeeeee!!!!! Am I dreaming, Joanne? Nothing like applying a little bit of pressure, eh? I know, I am incorrigible. But you know my motto: If you don't ask, you don't receive.

Stop, I Say

When you pull out of our country driveway without stopping to look left, you risk being T-boned by a passing vehicle because the grass in the ditch grows so tall. Now passing vehicles are few and far between, but all it takes is once, so I have been waiting for this stop sign to be mounted on a post and installed properly for visitors leaving our place to see. Unfortunately Manful has had no time for this kind of thing, so over the summer I've leaned the sign against the ugly old John Deere plough (its days are numbered, I tell you; as soon as there is some muscle around to haul the thing out of there, it's gone. I know, I'm a bad, bad farmgirl-- but honestly, farm machinery as a yard decoration does absolutely nothing for me), where it's been blown over onto its face constantly.
Finally I rigged it up to stay, on the back of the old Golden Grain Farm sign. Whose days are also numbered.

Margo

Main Street Margo.

There's still no place like home.

In the Graveyard

Everett and I went for a sunshiny drive this afternoon and stopped at the Margo cemetery to visit Mom's grave. As I gave him the tour of the resting places of his great-great-great grandparents and suchlike, we noticed this tombstone. I like the epitaph. It's not often enough that words on the marker tell us much about the departed other than their birth and death dates, how they were related to us, and sometimes how we felt about them -- our dearly beloved, ever missed, darling ones. This pithy sentence gives me a pretty lively image of the lady herself.

Everett remarked that having a name like "Sunshine" has to be a good thing, for anyone.

TNT Cafe

An unexpected early run to town one morning to deliver a truck for repairs bought me breakfast in one of the local eateries on Main St.

Why I Don't Have a Tattoo

Little Gal

Her Sweetness got all dressed up for a wedding.

I stopped over at Cara's and Trea gave me a smile and showed off her walking. But when Scott came in and squatted down, she ran right into his arms. I swear that man is a baby magnet.

Workin' Men

Poor ol' Shnevy was enlisted to spend the day mucking out a mouldy basement on one of Scott's jobs today..

The Finger

How drivers in rural Saskatchewan acknowledge each other when they meet on the road.

Usually it’s men who do this (I think); I’m the only woman I know who does. Speak up, gals, if you do it too. Figure I must have picked this up from Dad.

Do drivers do this where you live? And if not, is there another signal they use?

***

Grandma enjoyed her drive, and we dined at Scott's grandma's, and then Emil started coughing and ended up horking up his meal, and almost causing me to lose mine, since I have no stomach for hearing the heaves or cleaning up the mess. It must have been quite unpleasant to listen to us both gagging. Strangely, no one offered to help! Heh.

He's fine. Musta had some post-nasal drip or just caught some cookie in the wrong tube. Sounds like he's considering coming home for the long weekend. Maybe. Oy, you'd think he couldn't wait to get out of here or something.

Stopped in to see Cara's new place (Cara's my niece) and admire it and her two adorable children. Oh, and her fella Chris of course. They've bought this house in Kelvington so will be able to put down some roots to raise their kids.

Warm starry night. Gorgeous. I might just go outside and admire the sky for a while too.

Routine Weekend

Me 'n' Smartypants

More than a week ago I sat here in front of Photobooth and took a picture to post on the day this page was "Blog of Note" and then, in my usual absentminded way, forgot all about it till just now when I happened to run across it.

Five days in a row without rain. This is the first rainfree stretch longer than four days, since May. Unless I'm mistaken— which I probably am.

Everett and I are just back from town, where he did laundry and I picked up Emil and went for groceries.

That's my day: uneventful, routine, and fine with me.

What Everett Made This Week

Fafard Horses Adorn Banks of St. Lawrence River in Quebec City

Read the full story here.