Where the Rose Climbs

Hey, good morning.
Tomorrow it's officially spring.
It's 23-below.
There is so much snow that we're being told flooding is likely in many parts of the province. Oh joy.
Fingers crossed that the sun shines just right  — not too hot, not too cold — to melt the snow away in exactly the right amounts to be easily handled.

As if it's up to the sun.
I hope you're not taking my "science" to heart.

Things My Memory Forgot

Fri night, in PJ's on bed, reading Grade 12 journal from back in the day:

• boring stuff (now) about boys
• I see I never stayed home
• I see I said I was depressed
• I worried about not having enough money
• I wanted to get good marks
• I was smoking pot with my friends
• I seemed to seriously consider going into law (why? I wonder now. I don't recall having any actual interest in the law)

I took my Gr12 while living in the girls' dormitory at Luther College in Regina. When I was there for Gr10, my dorm neighbour and good friend was Cathy Ritchie. I see from the journal that she visited me there after she graduated, and so I text her about it:

Cath: Don't remember that.
Me: Me neither but apparently your visit made me happy.
Cath: I'm sure it made me happy too. Some things never change.

Reprinted from Facebook

Friday Night Report

A quick note to say hello, and goodnight. The day has gotten away on me somehow. I can't explain it. Oh yes I can. A lengthy telephone conversation with a longtime and dear friend this morning, and a batch of raisin-rye bread out of the oven in time for lunch. Work in the afternoon, and a quick trip to town earlier this evening to pick up a working teenager (Scott's nephew) from his job at the store, and while I was there, a few things from the store for the inlaws. Emil's not coming out this weekend and I'm spending tomorrow night with one of my little sisters. Something to look forward to. Considering I haven't seen her since Dec23rd and she lives only 20 minutes away; shame on me. And on her, too.

And my back is much improved. I'm still using my legs exclusively when it's necessary to squat down for things— which is every five minutes apparently — and being very careful not to bend, but to lower myself straight down and to rise straight up again. I don't dare use my back. Or can't. Who knew one needs to use the legs so much, anyway? You don't realize till something goes awry that you haven't been lifting properly all along, though you'd have sworn you were. You can sure find out in a hurry that you have been an idiot.  I'm glad the worst is over and I don't feel like an invalid half the time, like I have for the past two weeks.

Reading Old Journals, and Gerald Durrell

Lately I've been reading two things:

1) My journals from 1975, when I was in my mid teens. Oh my! Good for some belly laughs, for sure, as I lie propped up in my bed and Scott surely wonders, from the other room, what is so darn funny. Then there are some of the serious themes, like being disappointed in people, and self-exploration, that I now see were challenges even then, as they continue to be. At 15 I didn't think much of astrology or marriage as an institution, and I tried meditation for the first time. Now, some 40 years later, I have a lot more respect for astrology and even less for marriage, and I'm still meditating. As a matter of fact, the other day in a meditation my "Intellectual Self" (which appears as a character in an imagined scene) told me I have an "Irish intellect." I have no clue what that means, but it was related to my ancestry, and since there is likely some Irish back there somewhere perhaps that's the intellect gene I got? It's a mystery.

2) Gerald Durrell's book about his trip to Argentina to collect animals for a zoo. Great stuff — humorous and descriptive in an anthropomorphizing sort of way, as he describes the behaviour of elephant seals and fur seals, for instance, that he observes. Not to mention the habits of his Argentinian hosts and guides. I've also read an earlier book about growing up with his family, a wild and entertaining bunch: My Family and Other Animals. I recommend them both.

Bling for the Laundress

What would you clip the clothespins onto if you were wearing these earrings?

I equate clothespins to domestic work, so I might list one of the following chores on each of four tiny paper squares:

• sweep step

• dust bedroom

• put roast in oven

• fold clothes

You would wear these earrings on Halloween, when you go to the party dressed as a laundress.
Doesn't everyone always want to be a laundress?

I Love Snow. There, I Said It.

Spring is so just around the corner — I can feel it!

My standing-desk experiment is at an end for now. Yesterday morning I enlisted help to lift and switch the computer and printer so I can sit again to work. Otherwise I'm going to be a poor girl. I like standing, but can't do it with my back being fussy. Which SHALL SOON PASS, goddammit. Actually there is noticeable improvement. I'm just not telling you what it is. Only that after a half-hour of standing, I still crave a nap. The dishes don't get done in one go, sometimes. But they're always there when I get around to them, crusty little darlings.

So soon, all these brilliant patterns will be gone. 

I know, I know ... If I had to shovel, things would be different. 

Crank Phone

Coming up in June, there is a family reunion on my dad's mother's side and I've been sorting through the old photos to find pictures of my grandmother as a young woman.

It's a purely pleasurable (and often head-scratching) pastime, and provides me with plenty of chuckles.

I'm posting the one below (that's me on the knee of a family friend [Art Klein], who is talking with Dad) because it's got the old crank phone in it. Remember those, anyone?

Margo, our home town, was one of the last places in Saskatchewan to get dial phones, I'm sure. This pic would have been taken about 1962. And on the farm, we still had party lines till I was in my early teens.

Tracks of What

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fawn and Follower

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

They take turns following each other.

Julie has posted another poem:
CLICK HERE.

One Small Thing

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

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

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

Sometimes the treatment seems too simple.

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

Unwanted Welcome Guests

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

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

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

Here we go:

Farewell You Son of Canada

If you are Canadian, nothing more need be said.

Wedding Parties

Flower Girl. My first wedding party.

Spite Houses

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

CLICK HERE to see 9 houses built for spite.

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

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

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

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

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

Kathy! Bring The Camera

A few yards from our back step.

Time to mosey on I guess.

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

Do not tell this guy:

Great White Hunter

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

Ducky's into the tequila again.

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

Doppelganger

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

Go see. CLICK HERE.

Still Kickin'

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

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

Mmm...mmmolasses ...

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

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

The twins found the birdseed this morning. 

King of the Hill

Meet L'il Lexi

My grandniece is six days old.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sodium

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