High Water

There is a lot of water around, I mean more than usual; the creeks are running high and, not far away, some lakes are looking like oceans.

For the first year since we moved to Golden Grain Farm, our basement has remained dry all spring. Hooray for filled-in lagoons, newly installed weeping tile, and power that hasn't gone off, which means the sump pumps, which seem to run every five minutes, keep on working. It was costly but oh so worth it.

The mosquitoes are another story. Remember that Hitchcock movie The Birds? It's like that, only with bloodthirsty stinging insects. Outside in the evening, you hear the hum. Sometimes you have to outrun them.

And because this song is hilarious and true (if your husband has cattle, you know it), and Corb Lund the Alberta songwriter is a smart witty funny man, I give you this:

July 1st - how's the weather?

This his how warmly I had to be dressed to go walking on July 1st. 

And sometimes, carrots are your neighbours.
(Do you ever hear things that seem a bit sideways while listening to radio or TV? And you are sure you didn't hear right?)

Two Serious Summer Days

And everything so green and lush

Ducks Away

Damn ducks. Always hear me comin'.

Loves Me, Loves Me Not

Eyeball Fatigue

Our windows have been wet in these relentless days of rain.

Working for a newspaper, my errors and oversights are often brought to my attention.

I try not to be embarrassed or ashamed, and take note of where to pay closer attention or take more time, but it still chagrins. It irritates. Irks. Dumbfounds, even.

There is some kind of blindness, where I look right at something and don't see it, or see something different. 

Eyeball fatigue. 

K.

The rain has stopped and there is some blue sky. A breather.

"The secret to getting your home in order is moving your arms and legs." (flylady.com)

Ha!

Paper Challenged

In a search for a piece of paperwork, I ended up with piles of printed material everywhere. It needs to be dealt with. Sigh.

From an old journal, in 2005, when Everett was 12:

On the drive to school this morning Everett said he didn't have any dreams last night. 

"I only have dreams when I sleep in your bed, Mom. Your bed must be enchanted or something."

✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮

Mom gives Everett his first and only lesson in embroidery:

http://xoetc.antville.org/archive/2005/03/13/

✿⊱╮✿⊱╮✿⊱╮

From My journal:

Everett came running and bouncing onto the bed with the biggest, most beautiful smile on his face. 

"Why so happy?" I asked. 

"I'm not!" he insisted.

I am seriously paper-challenged. And I don't want to deal with it. Time to pay a call to Flylady.com.

Haley Jo

Haley Jo is happy to make your acquaintance.

Did this sight make you laugh out loud in pure delight?
Then you and I have something in common.

Haley Jo is my one-year-old cousin once-removed. (Heather's girl.)

I sometimes babysat Heather when she was around this age. She was the smiliest baby I have ever known. And her own two babies have the same smiliestness.

Thoughts upon Thoughts

Perking along in the morning

Bedraggled after a rainy day

 While searching online for poems about rain, I came across the following quotation and forwarded it to my friend Julie.

“Love, like rain, can nourish from above, drenching couples with a soaking joy. But sometimes under the angry heat of life, love dries on the surface and must nourish from below, tending to its roots keeping itself alive.” ― Paulo Coelho, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept

Dear K,

For me the roots are like when I remind myself of the early days of being together, the obvious admiration he had for me, also my own blood tradition of families who stayed married for 50 years or more.  The roots might include our own determination and a higher power which breathes life into everything.

Another thing I learned is that I blame him before considering my own behavior which is all too common in every breakup.  If I do what I can to cooperate, it helps.

Just some thoughts.

J

Dear Julie,

For me, the roots are the day-to-day living, or what you once phrased "fundamental caring."

You might be mad, or hurt, or disgusted, or disappointed, or disheartened, or whatever, but you don't stop loving on a very basic level (the roots). So the rest of it, above or on the surface, is like the emotions - changeable like the weather, as you once also said. 

I always assume I have a causative part in what happens, though I sure as hell don't always see what it is, and have started to wonder whether it's true or not, or just one of those beliefs we accept in a blanket way not based on our own observation. 

Just some more thoughts,

K.

Ed Sheeran

Dear Joan,

I went to YouTube and listened to the first three videos that came up: Sing, Don't, and The Man.

Are there other songs that you like better? because these don't make me want to listen to more of this guy. 

Either I just found three of his poorest songs, or you and I like very different types of music!

(Not that there is anything wrong with that ... .)

xo

K.

Dear Kathy,

Of those three, I have only heard "Sing." I prefer his earlier stuff (when he just came out…) that would be "The parting Glass, A Team, Give Me Love, I See Fire - try those. There are some great videos of just him in the studio recording and those are fun to watch. 

-J.

Dear Joan,

Ah! I think I may have seen him perform on The Graham Norton Show once.

Have you ever watched that?

Best talk show EVER.

xo

K.

p.s.

ooh, this is pretty:

It moves my heart. Makes me sing.

Thanks for the heads-up, Joan!

Nasturtium Nibbler

Woodland Anemone

I get a chuckle as I walk along the road these days, because these anemone, which I purchased from a greenhouse some years ago, also grow wild in the ditches and are in abundant bloom right now.

They are planted beneath the maple tree in our front yard, along with wildflowers, oriental poppies, columbines, poppies, hens and chicks, and a single delphinium. All have to fight for light and moisture due to the heavy branches and the thirsty shallow roots of the maple tree.

Out in the sunny perennial bed, the oriental poppies have gotten started:

And the painted daisies, some of my favourites, are preparing to burst out.
Of course I talk to my flowers. I tell them how beautiful they are and how much pleasure they give me, and when I leave for work in the morning, I bid them a good day.

And hope that a nasty nasturtium nibbler like this one doesn't make a snack out of them:

If only it had a taste for dandelions!

Duck

At the lodge where Scott's dad is living, they have the sidewalk from the parking lot roped off because there is a duck nesting beneath a cedar tree. You are not to walk there, but can observe from inside the window of the activity room. 

It takes a while, but gradually your eyes pick out the duck tucked into her nest. No hatchlings yet.

My Baby is 26

The Barn Dog Bar & Grill in Hendon, Sask.

Emil wanted to "go out for supper" on his birthday, so I suggested the Hendon bar, a place he hadn't been before. Scott and I have been there a time or two for wing nite, which if I'm not mistaken is Wednesdays.

On the way there, the rain pounded down so hard several times that I had to pull over because I couldn't see. Then suddenly we were through it.

After Emil demolished a big plate of food and a grape pop, we headed east to visit Ivan (Scott's dad) at the lodge in Kelvington.

Emil made sure to tell everyone everywhere that it was his birthday.
"I'm twenty-SIX today."
Scott's cousin Orlynn, who was clearing tables in the dining room below, sang Happy Birthday to him.

Emil, age 26

I have to admit, I enjoyed what was on television in the background at the nursing home far more than what was on the screen at the Barn Dog.

The bar had Nascar racing (yawn)(grind teeth)(why can't I escape goddamn sports of one sort or another on a frickin' loud TV in every eating establishment I go to?) and the nursing home had Walter Ostanek and the Polka Kings, followed by Tribal Trails. Don't quote me on those names. But I have come to love the old-time music that, in my teens and twenties, I looked so far down my nose at. Apparently we really do come full circle.

Fair Weekend

My pal Al and her brother head toward Main Street to have supper together after a hard day's work.

I should have gotten out of the car and taken a better picture, but ... Alison and I had just left the office and Emil was waiting for me, so I snapped this through the windshield and carried on my merry way.

It's been a wet day. The town fair, which started this evening, had to move indoors to the rec centre, and the horse and ball events planned for the sports grounds have been cancelled because the earth is soaked.

Emil and I had one stop to make before driving home: the store, where we picked up the ice cream cake he requested for his birthday tomorrow. He turns 26 and it is strange to remember the tiny fellow with the high voice that he was, and then look at this full-grown guy who doesn’t resemble that baby boy at all anymore. Except that he still loves his mother. And food. And is slightly fascinated by fans.

Dad is en route from Kelowna and expects to arrive here tomorrow. Haven't seen him since last June and — holy shit, a year already! — although we either talk by phone or text most every day, it's even better to lay eyes on him.

Will the green-eyed cat adapt to life on the farm?

Maybe my pal Al's cat Lenny isn't actually "feral." No, he isn't; I done him wrong. He's just a bit of a rascal.

He is acting a bit wild, though, as if he's afraid. I set him loose in the barn this morning before leaving for work, and when I checked on him this evening he'd established himself up high on a beam. He didn't run and hide when I went and talked to him, but he didn't come down either.

Bluesy Woozy

Storytellin' men, above.

It's Tuesday afternoon. I've been out talking to the cat in the cage, and to the curious cows and calves, and hoeing, and pulling weeds, and transplanting.

And when I come in for a rest, I often end up here at the desk.
And something made me go looking for something in my old blog, and I found this entry about emotions ... I had forgotten about it.
Forgotten what I learned that day.
Oh, perhaps only consciously forgotten.
But I do need reminding of things I know, quite often.

Well, here it is:
CLICK HERE.

No Lemonade for You!

It was a rainy Saturday afternoon in Watson and a little girl (I assume) wisely headed for someplace warm and dry.

Today my pal Al brought out her feral cat and we installed it in a large kennel in the barn, where it will stay for several days till it calms down and learns there is food and shelter here for it. I hope it sticks around and does all right. Jenna Doodle needs some help with the moles that have invaded. She’s brought three half-eaten ones to the house so far and Scott says she was lying in wait for one this evening while he was digging dandelions in the outer yard.

Maybe tomorrow the clouds will clear off and the soil will dry enough for me to wreak garden havoc with my trusty horseshoe hoe. Today I managed to go for a good walk in the morning, and got some weeds pulled by hand from the flowerbed this afternoon. Worked several hours on the News webpage too. And had pie and tea with Al and Scott, who came home during the day to get his income tax papers together. "Last day to file," he was informed. Guess that lit a fire under his bum. 

Virtual Supper

There are a lot of dead, bare trees around here, due to the flooding in recent years. 

My dad is in Kelowna and I am here, so ... I texted him a couple times, talked to him on the phone twice this afternoon. We are having a virtual supper date; I’m buying. He’s having pork chops with french fries; I’m ordering greek ribs, and a bottle of wine to share.

He will be driving out here via a meandering route, making stops to visit friends along the way, so we can expect to see him in a week or so.

As for Scott's dad, he is being visited in the longterm-care lodge in Kelvington, where he was moved to on Friday. He was diagnosed with dementia a year or two ago and Scott's mom has had the 24-hr-a-day job of caring for him, which includes regular meals and medication for insulin-dependent diabetes.

This takes the heavy responsibility off her shoulders, which is a relief, but it is also a sad day when your loved one goes to live in an institution. Even one so close as this one, where Scott's sister Tanya works and will see their dad practically every day. We hope that the routine at the lodge will do Ivan good and that he will enjoy the social aspect of always having lots of other people around to talk with.

Even Rainy Days are a Treat

Rainy and cold. What ya gonna do?
Me: have a warm bath and nothing much else. Dishes, I suppose.
And then, a stop at the farmers market and a shopping trip to Humboldt with me boyo, who needs workboots.

Meanwhile I'm looking at some tall grass in my perennial garden, dying to get out there and pull it up.
Any excuse to wear my new rubber boots.