Our Kids

I thought he was being a worry wart until I watched the news that night and saw the photos of two men (one originally from this neck of the woods) who have been kidnapped in the Philippines for ransom and are being threatened with gruesome execution if it isn't paid.

Shit! Our kids are travelling in Asia right now.
Stay calm, I told myself. Stay calm, or Scott will not sleep until they land at an airport in Canada.

"Worrying won't change a thing," I tell him, well aware that anxiety does what it wants. Go ahead, try to boss it around. Good luck.

"Your job is just to picture them arriving home safe and sound," I say. "They're in no more danger there than they are here, or in Calgary traffic."

Still.

Badgers & Gophers

This is a badger hole right at the edge of our road. It's quite large; you can't tell from this picture, but that hole is about eight inches in diameter.

Badgers are ferocious but I can't help myself, I go look anyway, trusting it will stay below if indeed it's even still there. Probably not.

Scott says badgers can hear young gophers in their underground burrows, and they very quickly dig straight down — making a hole like this — and slurp them up.

It's turned cold and windy here again, dammit.
I turned up the furnace when I got home tonight. Down-filled jacket in the morning, I guess.
But after the warm few days we've had, the snow's gone from all around the yard and the driveway's dried up. I didn't have to wear my rubber boots to the office today. Woo hoo! Yay, Blundstones!

Also, Dad's coming out near the end of May for TWO MONTHS. This is a minor miracle, as he hasn't wanted to spend that much time here for more than two decades. It'll be nice to have him around for so long.

Indulging the Self

So yesterday I did most of the dishes, though not all. Today I'll get them polished off.
I didn't bake bread; it's not essential, after all, and if we don't have homemade bread, so what. Besides, we still have a full loaf.
I felt like making cookies, so that's what I did instead, while thinking fondly of the friend who gave me her recipe for oatmeal cookies. She is over 80 now, and I have the recipe in her handwriting.
I went for three — count 'em, three! — walks, instead of the usual one. I rambled north, I rambled, south, I rambled east, and I rambled all around the perimeter (or as close to it as I could get, considering all the sloughs on our property) of our "back 40." God how I love rubber boots. You can go almost anywhere!
Oh, and I did work for two hours; I wasn't totally self-indulgent. Responsibilities are responsibilities.

At one point our old dog Jenna Doodle was barking like crazy; I could tell she was mad. When I went to see what it was all about, from the back step I saw a very large white coyote making its exit from the swampy area just behind the dugout that's behind our back yard. We live in a wetland, y'know. It's bird city around here — fabulous! so much birdsong now that I went downstairs and brought up the window screens so I can hear the birds while I'm in the house — and yesterday the frogs started their spring courtship songs. Before long they'll be so loud it won't matter if all the windows are closed, we'll still hear them out there. It's a wondrous time of the year. Robins are singing their territorial songs; chickadees are doing the same; there are even some bird calls I don't recognize. Scott says he saw but hasn't heard the sora, one of my favourites. I'm waiting ... .

Click to enlarge

Also, the endless flocks of snow geese are now flying over. They fill the sky for as far as the eye can see. I stand there amazed.

We went for a short drive last night so Scott could check on some cattle that are about to calve — indeed, the first one had — and he asked if I'd gotten a picture of the trumpeter swans that flew over my head. I must've thought they were geese, because I didn't notice them.

Yeah, that's my exciting life. Other than that, the only thing more happy-making these days is that my sister Joan keeps sending me these hilarious distorted-face videos of herself on Snapchat, making me laugh out loud and appreciate her more each time. I can really use these laughs! and am most grateful to have such a fun-loving person in my life. Thanks for these little pick-me-ups, Joanie!

First Fire

There are tons of things to do indoors today: work, bread, dishes ... that's just the essentials and not the "could do" tasks and projects ... but it is far too gorgeous out there. I'm not ready to make myself stay in. Or maybe I just can't do it. My inner child wants to be outside in the sun and my grown woman does too.

Yesterday:

Me & the Trees

"Think of it as a day of rest," she said, when I told her over the phone that yesterday had been "wasted" with a migraine. Thank you, Shelly; that's a much better attitude.

But today, now ... today! I'm fit as a fiddle and was out the door and walking down the road in the sunshine. My spring/fall jacket was off and on a few times; so was my tuque; but that's Saskatchewan weather. It's not a lot different in full summertime. The wind blows, you're cold. The sun comes out, you're hot. Back and forth, off and on; the temperature fluctuates.

It's so nice out today that Scott's gone to town for wieners so we can make ourselves a little fire and roast them for supper. It's a perfect time to be out there, enjoying the days before the mosquitoes come out.

It was jarring, when I went north, to see that a bunch of trees have been knocked down on the other side of a field since last time I looked that direction. It always feels like an affront, one about which I can do absolutely nothing. I'd like some kind of environmental controls to be put in place by the government so that there are limits to the amount of trees farmers can bulldoze from their property. (Are they really gonna take them all? as Dennis Lakusta's song says.)

Sure the trees belong to the landowner, who needs (does he really? it must pay; it costs plenty to get rid of trees, and heaven knows farmers don't like to spend money for no good reason) the acres to grow crops. But I don't think the landowner actually "needs" to take out so many trees, does he? And in the long run, owning property shouldn't mean that you have the right to fuck it up for the wildlife whose habitat has already been decimated, and to increase soil/wind erosion ... and these things do matter, not only now but to future generations. There oughtta be a law, since it does look, alas, like far too many landowners don't give a shit about any of that.

I know, I know. They've gotta make a living. Money talks, and I understand and empathize. Nevertheless, I'm going to start writing letters to government. It never seems to make a difference, but maybe someday, someone with a brain and power will listen and act for environmental responsibility and integrity. I'm not holding my breath though. In the meantime I'll still feel helpless and hopeless whenever I see these wide swaths of mature trees biting the dust, and farmers will go on clearing trees while thinking of themselves as stewards of the land.

Mottoware

In June it will be a year since I took Mom's mom's mother's mottoware from the top of the fridge and shoved it into boxes under a bed so that Scott could install the new kitchen cabinets.

"I need a favour," I said to him this morning over coffee. "Please get the shelves up so I can display those old dishes again. I hate having them shoved away out of sight."

"I'm trying," was his response.

Fair enough, I thought.

I need a retired boyfriend with carpentry skills. Know anyone?

Already Gone

The way things were a couple days ago.

Oh yes, they are always changing.

It drives poor Scott nuts. 

I like a change though, even if it's only the living room furniture and doodads. 

I moved the dragon tree further right, where there is more light -- even though it's further from the window.

Who was Here

It was Sharon Butala's memoir The Perfection of the Morning that reminded me that everywhere I'm walking, there might have been a teepee camp or a well-travelled hunting path.
I live on territory that was once occupied by the Saulteaux.
What were their lives like?
They were peaceable, I imagine, because they had figured out that fighting with your neighbours means loved ones are going to lose their lives, and who wants that? No one. It's better to be civil and trade fairly for what you want and what you need. It's obvious.

Oh beauteous darlings

It's a damn good day

Water laying on the ice

Dark-eyed junco in the bath

Katej

People are always asking me, "Do you prefer to be called Kathy or Kate?"

I don't have a preference, but my family calls me Kathy.

There are some old friends who call me Kay, although I don't think I ever really felt like a "Kay." Kate feels more right, for some reason; more me. (I answer to Madam Editor too, since Alison -- Madam Publisher -- has been calling me that since I started at the newspaper two years ago.)

When I was 19 and embarked on the nine-month KATIMAVIK volunteer project (the little sojourn that somehow got translated, by gossip and rumour around here, into me being part of a "cult" that handed out flowers at the airport; hilarious! i still can't help laughing), there was a group of 30 of us. In that group were three Kathys, and two of us lived in the same household, so to make it easy I took "Kay" as an identifier. (I realize now that it wasn't at all necessary, but then I probably thought "K" would be cool). Among that group of people, I'm still known as Kay by most.

Then when I got connected to the internet for the first time and needed to come up with an email address, naturally I tried for Kathy and KJohnson and KathyJ and so on, but they were all taken and I'd've had to add a number in order to use my own name, which is an overly common one. I didn't want to use a number, so kept trying variations until finally hitting upon one that was free: katej.

And so, in email, I began signing myself as Kate. It only made sense. And now it's what my fingers type out automatically and it's how my online acquaintances know me.

And that is your little bit of Kate-age for today.

Now: last night's supper dishes to do (Emil thoroughly enjoyed that chicken) and I plan to bake bread and get out for a walk and do laundry and change bedding; oh, and must fill those bird feeders again, and not to forget — I've got to work for a couple hours, too, on the NEWS webpage and the archives. When you line it all up like that, it looks like a busy day ahead, doesn't it!

We've Got Robins

This blog has, according to Stats, had almost 2000 pageviews today. Why? I can't think of one good reason why there should be such a ridiculously high number for this little ol' bloggy thing. Did I inadvertently write a porny title or something? 

In the back yard this morning was a flock of big fat robins; they looked twice the size that robins normally do. What's up with that?

Three things always remind me of my friend Luanne, whom I spoke to on the phone earlier today:
1. I'm baking bread. Lu's a bread-baker too.
2. I'm putting on the winter scarf she gave me when I asked for it because I loved its colours.
3. I'm listening to Eleanor Wachtel interview an author on CBC Radio. It's something about Wachtel's conversational tone.

If you're interested in tarot cards, I've been including one-card readings in the STUBBLEJUMPERS entries. Any café worth its salt should have a card reader, even if it isn't a Russian tearoom. Please remember, I'm not Blondi Blathers (except on Twitter, where @blondiblathers is me). I have placed her as a character into my childhood memories and used some people and experiences in my life to fill hers out, but that's it. Over at Stubblejumpers Café, I'm just watching Blondi and the others and writing down where they go, all in the service of practice writing in the third person.

This afternoon a chicken is roasting with potatoes and carrots for an early supper before I have to drive Emil back to town to be ready for his work week, which picks up again tomorrow. His dad's coming out from St. Albert on Friday to spend the weekend with our boys, and Emil's pretty excited about that.

From the Corner

When Emil and I got home from town last night, it was damn cold out there. I was sure it had to snow. By this morning it hadn't, but looking through the window and hearing the wind blow, the great outdoors was not in the least appealing.

I went out anyway because the bird feeders were empty, and discovered to my pleasure that the day is mild even if there's ice in the breeze. The air is as soft, rich and sweet as it might be in a magical fairyland. I couldn't resist a short walk.

Never, never go outside without my eyeglasses, I tell myself. But sometimes I just want to set my face free of the things and away I go, knowing better. And each time, I regret it.

Today there is a joyful twittering in the trees across the road, but I couldn't see what kind of birds were making it.

Will I ever learn!

Nothing to Tell

When you don't get to the office till 10, and you've a full day's work to do, and you stop once to walk through snow, slush and water to buy buns and slices of ham to eat at your desk, and you take an hour for your regular shiatsu treatment, well then you don't leave the office before seven o'clock like I did tonight, and when you get home you wash some dishes and eat some chicken noodle soup with crackers for supper and then sit down and watch a movie and before you know it, it's past 11 and your eyes are pressing down and you know bed is going to feel damn good and even better because the radio will be on and will talk you right to sleep.

Bon soir, mes amies. Á la prochaine ... .

Out and In

Yesterday I could walk out past the barn on bare grass.

I'm told the woodticks are already out, which means it's time to start adding bitter citrus oils to my bathwater again, and slathering wrists, ankles, neck and hair with oils the ticks don't like. Gross things, and we have been overrun by them in recent years.

Today it's snowing and everything is white again, including the sky. I don't want to go out. But the birds have been so active at the feeders that, even though I just filled them yesterday afternoon, they are almost empty. Darn hungry, those little beasties.

One of the best things about going outside when it's cold is coming back in.

Activity Around the Yard

Sure, Mr Doodle does a lot of lying about, but he seems to be the only animal doing so.

Outside, a pair of magpies is making a nest in the row of lilacs near the back step. That won't be good. I thought about knocking it down before eggs are laid, but I don't want to hurt their feelings. They've done a lot of work! Alas, it would be the smart thing to do. Their noise drives us nuts enough when the nests are quite a bit further from the house. Scott always threatens to shoot them, but never does. This is the kind of man I like: one that takes no pleasure in killing, even when it may be a solution to irritation.

With no cats around the yard these days — something got our tomcat Bob and dragged him off to the chicken coop this winter — the smaller wild animals have become less shy. I got my first glimpse of the rabbit yesterday afternoon:

I won't be too happy when it discovers my flowers this summer. Click for a better look.

At one point I could hear noise east of the house, but there being no window anywhere in that wall, could see nothing. Thought maybe I was imagining things, or maybe a vehicle was on the road on the other side of the bush. Was about to put on a jacket and boots and go see, when the noise moved to the back of the house. A certain someone was close to being stuck out there:

Through the office window

Me & Frazey Ford

It was the rawness of her voice, the emotion in it.
Where was that? Somewhere in Edmonton? I seem to remember her onstage but, like many memories, they aren't reliable. Maybe she was on TV. It was a long time ago.
What struck me most, next to her singing, was that she was on that stage in front of a full audience and she was missing — if I remember correctly — her top teeth.
Onstage singing without your teeth. Now that takes nerve!



Another thing I'm noticing a lot of lately is that women are no longer wearing loose, dark clothing in an effort to hide "extra" poundage. Nosirree! They are putting on pretty duds, tight ones, even, and letting it all hang out. Gotta admire that kind of self-respecting, take-me-as-I-am courage. It's well past time we stopped hiding ourselves away, as if we're not perfect enough.



Could I be completely wrong about the teeth?

Cool Spring Day

At this rate it won't be long before all the snow is gone. However, it's still cold out there. The wind pretty much slices into your eyeballs. I don't much want to go outdoors, even though the sun is shining and I know from long experience that once I'm out there I'll be as content as could be, as long as I'm dressed warmly. 

So I'll go, and see what I can see. 

Last night I left the office and stopped over to see Emil, who's had a cold all week and wanted his mom to make sure he's all right. After picking up a bag of groceries,  I drove out of town. Nearing home, I saw an owl perched in a treetop. Maybe this is the one I've been hearing; the one that left its wingmarks in the snow along the driveway. 

Because I had a few things to bring in, I pulled right up to the step and got a start when a large bird flew past, right in front of the car. The prairie chicken! Oh how nice it is to have chickens we don't have to look after. We are careful not to mention it, though, to Emil, for he is afraid of chickens. We don't know why, but he is. He only likes to eat them. If we got chickens for the coop here in the farmyard, he'd think twice about coming for a weekend. I guess we could call it by its correct name (spruce grouse?) and maybe then he wouldn't make the connection.

Now well on its way out

And now, to compile and send out my monthly newsletter, Kate's Five Things.
See ya later.

What Can I Say

It's just that the sky is so darn pretty.
What a beautiful day it was.
A day for walking!
I am happier out there on a fairweather day than anywhere or anytime else.

Click pics to enlarge.

It's the little things. 

Like the way these dry stems absorb the sun's heat and melt the snow around them:

Like my first sighting of a slough beside the road:

Or the way the sign on this tree tells hunters and trespassers, Don't:

And that I got to wear a spring jacket (and no ski pants) for the first time this year:

Finding the Funny

“You can’t throw that away!” she said to me, wiping her tears.

I had, just the day before, finished reading through a journal from when I was 18. It had taken me a long time because — 18 again? No thanks — but finally I’d seen it all and decided what, if anything, was worth keeping. The binder containing the rest of the lined looseleaf covered with ink was slipped into a big black plastic bag destined for the fire bowl I’m about to light up any day now.

My high school friend Bev came over and we sipped herbal tea, talked, ate Mary Psovsky’s perogies for supper, talked, drank wine, and talked. In the course of the day I remembered something in the journal about a situation with a mutual friend, and retrieved the binder for Bev’s entertainment.

I flipped through and read several passages aloud.
We laughed so hard, we cried.
It was high drama, man!

"So ... are you going to leave your Christmas balls up all summer?"

Animals are About

The blessings of a fresh snowfall are the animal tracks plainly visible the next day.
There is a lot of wildlife around our yard, but we don't see all the activity.
It was a glorious walk, I can tell you.

The rabbit

Marks of a bird's wings when it swooped in and caught something? A rodent?
I did hear an owl the other evening. 

The prairie chicken that makes its way ever-so-slowly around the yard and house.

All this and more, just along our driveway.

Then down the road:

Probably deer.

Sunday morning:
I knew I was forgetting something. The vehicle tracks and my old dog, who now lies in the road waiting for me to turn and walk back.

Me & Jane Fonda

"For feminists, a belief system is the enemy, not men."

"As the Indian sage Kristnamurti said, 'You think you are thinking your thoughts, you are not; you are thinking the culture’s thoughts.' "

These are two quotes from a piece written by Jane Fonda about how she came to understand feminism rather than assuming it was a distraction from the "real" problems of the world. Good article, Jane. 

Me, I became a feminist on the day I looked around at the boys in my Grade 6 class and thought, "Them, superior to me? I think not!"

http://www.lennyletter.com/politics/news/a311/my-convoluted-journey-to-feminism/