Big Wind

This little guy stood in one place long enough for me to get a picture. Quite unusual for them to do, and it's the only one I've seen around here. It's about the size of a robin, and there's nothing in my Birds of Saskatchewan book that looks exactly like it, but my guess is that it's a sandpiper of some sort.

In other news, this is our second windier-than-usual day:

And now one of the yearling cats accompanies me and the dogs on our walk:

He kept up for the entire 2.7 kilometres, too.

And then he and his sister make me curse and grit my teeth when I step out onto the deck and find them curled up together in a flower pot. Right on top of a steel dragonfly I have put there to deter them. They don't seem to notice it.

Wasted Mornings

Ol' reliable daylily

Loud thunder woke both Scott and me at 4 a.m. Rain poured down so loudly I thought it must be hail. But my flowers don’t seem damaged today. I took only a quick tour though, as the wind is cold.

Both yesterday morning and this one have been "lost" ones, in that I've been visited by the trusty old migraine and had to take a pill and go back to bed till early afternoon. I have a job that permits me to work around this condition; I know I'm very lucky. And thank god the pills work, given a few hours. Before they came my way, I'd spend the entire day crying and puking while trying to escape the pain by sleeping, which was very difficult to do. Usually I'd have to keep one eye open to make sure the boys were okay, too; fortunately they weren't the kind of small children who get up to no good when left to their own devices.

Also, for the past few months, I haven't had six or eight migraines each month. I've had only three each month. That is a significant improvement that I seem to recall also occurred last summer. Oh well. Shrug. I've never figured this thing out yet, and maybe never will. 

Emil Has Two Favourite Neils

Last weekend we stopped downtown on the way to take Emil back to his place. On the street we saw this fellow, who is one of Emil's favourite people. He doesn't live at the same house as my laddie, but he either comes for meals or drops in to visit fairly often, and he works at the same place.

The lad didn't want to come home this weekend. There was no particular reason to stay there on his days off, he said, but he can, so he will. This is a sign that he is happy there, and that makes me happy. All six residents of his house were taken to the farmers' market on Saturday; maybe he knew that was on the agenda. It would be enough. He loves to go anyplace that he can walk around; if there's food, more's the better.

Next weekend Cathy is coming — yay, Cathy!! — so the spare room will be hers, and Emil, because he doesn't want to sleep on the couch or out in the camper, will likely ask me to bring him out for the day but take him back to town to sleep.

*** New blog alert:
Click here to read Trinkets and Tales.
It's my friend Joanne P's webpage. I've also linked to it in my list of Saskatchewan favourites at the bottom of this page.
Leave her a comment; it will encourage her to continue and I will enjoy that.
And it's all about me, right?
And speaking of Joannes, it sounds like Joanne Bohl ran into a pretty nasty hailstorm on her way home from the city: click here for her description.

*****
I've been catching up on Daniel MacIvor's "Notebook," and his picture on June 6 has spurred me onto posting this one I took yesterday afternoon when Ducky discovered me lying out in the swing under the crabapple tree, the lilacs (watching for what I think was an adult catbird feeding its young one; you only get glimpses through the leaves, they rarely let you see them) and the spruces:

Why, just go ahead and make yourself at home, Ducky.

Go read Daniel MacIvor's biography at the Canadian Encyclopedia. He is one of Canada'a best and most successful playwrights.

Evening Paradise

The ravine
Is blue and green
Or so she thought.

Look down.
Golden yellow and brown.
White.

We rode our bikes there last night, me and the Shnev.
Sigh. I love summer.

Housecoat Heaven

When I finish work for today (I've changed my office hours to 1 - 5 p.m. so my mornings are free! FREE, I tell you!), I think Everett and I will head into town to do a little laundry.

I used to feel sorry for people who had to do their washing at a laundromat, assuming they couldn't afford a washing machine and dryer. Now I know money has nothing to do with it or, at least, not always. Not that a sizeable influx of money wouldn't be a good thing, but it's the friggin' water situation around here ... grumble grumble grumble... and money will only go partway toward remedying it.

Actually it's not that bad. A person gets used to it and makes do. Like most things, I suppose.

Right now it is 10:30 and I am still sitting here in my housecoat, though have been outside to turn the sprinkler on a section of the flowerbed. Was too lazy to head off on my daily walk when I first got up and will have to do it tonight instead, as the day promises to be hot.

Everett sometimes accompanies me but can't keep up so he either turns back or, at my suggestion, rides a bike alongside, only then I can't keep up with him. Guess I could start jogging, which I've actually been tempted to do lately. Must be a sign I'm getting fit.

***
5pm
In the course of my internet research this afternoon, I came across Tantoo Cardinal's webpage, where she offers a sampling of some excellent videos. Click here to see them.

We Can See Where I Get My Love of Paper From

My great-grandmother's scrapbook

I am the keeper of May Jones' scrapbook, in which she pasted colourful cut-outs and poems and songs clipped from newspapers.

The cardboard cover and back tie together with green string.

Page one

Gave by M.J. to M.J. on 23rd Nov 1898

Pages 2 and 3

This is among many clippings she didn't get around to pasting in.

May Jones had a stroke when she was in her fifties, and didn't recover. She died before Mom, her first granddaughter, was born.

Just Another Day

Morning coffee on back step

Dining room window

On the china cabinet this week

Sunset

Evening tea on back step

Bertie and Elizabeth

King George VI and Queen Elizabeth

This is a tin box Mom had, that she kept sewing supplies in.
And that is that for that. I am off to bed now, in the wee hours.

✿⊱╮
11:46a.m.

I finished two books (see them on the right till I get a chance to change the images a little later, and click on the book covers for more information), Shakespeare's Wife and How To Live: A Life of Montaigne in One Easy Question and Twenty Answers (or something like that; I'm sure I never get it right).

I wouldn't recommend the first, which I was so excited to pick up at the library and then was quickly bored to tears. Although the author's research into the lives of everyday women in Shakespeare's time is diligent and from it she deduces what the real story of Ann Hathaway's life, and relationship with Shakespeare, quite likely was ... as opposed to what the historians have made of it, lacking evidence or historical knowledge ... it is still guesswork. Next to nothing is known about Ann Hathaway, and that's that for that. I skimmed through quite a bit of this one, I'm afraid.

As for Montaigne, he was new to me and I am thrilled to have discovered him. He sounds like my kind of guy in many ways— someone who understands that what we know for sure is dick-all and in the long run doesn't really matter anyway. This book about his philosophy of life, his famous collection of essays, and what the centuries have done with them, was not only well worth the read; it will make me search out his work and read it for myself. Also, he thinks like I do when it comes to letters, diaries and journals:

“I set forth a humble and inglorious life; that does not matter. You can tie up all moral philosophy with a common and private life just as well as with a life of richer stuff.”         

✿⊱╮ Don't forget to have a look at today's card and interpretation on my tarot page (see link in column on left, or click here).

Flurrs

What's this wild thing? It grows in the ditch.

You guys are getting pretty slack when it comes to helping me identify the wild plants around here.
Here's one I can name, because it's not wild:

A two-toned rose, one of five bushes (so far) planted in memory of Mom

Velcome. Vel, come in!

Shedaisy

The first flowers I ever noticed were daisies

Saving Valentina

With thanks to Schmutzie, who posted this video on her blog.

Joanne, you mentioned the St Marysburg church and I said I’d recently read something about it. You can read it too: Click Here.

Wild Things

Spotted a mile or two from our place

I got a short video but it's 22MB, too large to upload to Youtube. Drat.

Can you identify the wildflower that appeared in my herb garden last summer and this?
.

I've had my nose to the grindstone again this week, content to be indoors when it's so hot. Outside, the weeds are attacked with a stirrup hoe for only 10 minutes at a time — and in this heat, it's enough — whenever some physical activity is required to break up the hours spent in this chair. Maybe the flowerbed will be presentable again by the end of the week; it has gotten away on me yet again, as it does every summer.

Signs

That is per litre

Sweet evening light hits a corner of Main Street

%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^%^

Maggie, Shelly phoned this morning. She's off on an Alaskan cruise in a couple weeks and I'll catch her at home when I drive Everett back to Edmonton.

Gettin' Hitched

My nephew Marc with his bride Michelle (my new niece! and what a doll she is) and his parents, Karen (my sister) and her husband Dick.

Yesterday was a perfect day for an outdoor wedding ceremony: sunny with a breeze.

&*&**&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

My old friend Maggie has put together a piece about songs sung for a wedding couple's first dance (by the way, Karen sang the song Marc and Michelle danced to. Something by Johnny Reid). Read Maggie's blog, Serendipity Doo-Dah, and check out the videos: Click Here.

Also, Maggie has accepted a challenge to post an entry every day for 30 days. This is good news indeed, so I encourage you to keep an eye on her webpage for the rest of the month. She is a thoughtful, entertaining and intelligent gal who has a uniquely quirky perspective on all things. I love her writing to bits.

More Medicinal Wildflowers

false sunflower down at the ravine

wild yarrow flowers make a tea that fights respiratory infections and colds

not a dandelion! gumweed makes a sort of glue

Can't Win fer Losin'

Ducky scared up this grouse from the long grass along the road

A while ago I was disgusted by the dogs killing a kitten.
This morning I’m disgusted by the mother cat bringing a fledgling bird—maybe a robin—still alive for her kittens to play with, kill and eat.
At first I thought she’d caught a very large mouse or maybe a rat and said to her, “Good for you.” Then I got a closer look. My first urge was to rescue the bird (not that I’d know what nest to return it to, or anything else, and perhaps it was already near death) and took a step toward it. Immediately a kitten grabbed it and scooted behind some boards. I gave up and left the tractor shed, downhearted.
   I know this killing of the innocent is natural, but this is part of nature that does not please me. Not that it bothers me one bit when the cats kill mice; on the contrary, I hope they’ll kill many. But birds . . . I consider my friends.

Have to admit, my walks are rather glorious ... a mile cross-country from our place is the old Rosebud Hall, still used for dances and parties and reunions, and they have a horseshoe tournament on the grounds every year

Cara's Kids

Hayes, absolutely edible

Hambones like the camera: Trea and Kade

It's an active household and my niece Cara is on top of it all, one eye on her children at all times . . . a really, really good mom and sweet, sweet kids. We're going up there this evening to have supper with Scott's grandma, so maybe I'll get some baby snuggles in once more if we catch the family at home. Little Trea has started to come out of her shy shell with me, too. 

One Less Flowerbed

When I said I was downsizing my flower gardens, I wasn't kidding. For three summers I hand-weeded around this ugly old piece of farm machinery (it may be an "antique" but it's still ugly) at the end of the driveway, where I'd put in edging and planted daisies, poppies and wildflower seed. Last summer the ditch near it was so full of water that a cat-tail started growing in the flowerbed. This year the water in the ditch has crept even closer, so I said "To hell with it, let it do what it wants." And so it has.

I still haven't posted the Stop sign properly, but at least it might make a driver think twice before blasting onto the road, where you can't see a vehicle coming because the grass in the ditches is so tall.

We've got cooler days, which I prefer to the extreme heat. I like being able to use the oven. The other day I made biscuits to go with a bean soup, and cookies, and a big batch of granola. Today I've got supper in there, hoping the oven will warm up the house a little. My fingers are cold as I sit here. Better get moving. Maybe immersing them in hot dishwater would do the trick?

Was in Kelvington today for a doctor's appointment and stopped in afterwards to visit with my niece Cara and her three kids (five and under). Had the camera along so there will be photos tomorrow, or when I get around to posting them.

By the way, Everett's application to the Digital Media and Internet Technology program at Northern Alberta Institute of Technology (NAIT) has been accepted, so he'll start classes in September. He plans to live in Edmonton with his dad for the two years required by the course.

Missing People is No Fun

American Coot baby

I see this little fella as it hurries away from the roadside where I'm walking, but feel a bit sad as there used to be three. Probably its siblings were eaten by a fox or something. Did you know that only 7% of hatchlings of all kinds survive their youth? Most are taken by predators.

W-w-w-walkin'

The snowy mountaintops of Saskatchewan off in the distance

Picked Emil up at Lake Manitou this morning and was about a half-hour late; he hoped I'd forgotten, because then he would have had to spend another night there.
He asked if I've missed him while he was gone, and informed me that he had not missed me.
"And that's a good thing," he added with certainty. "It's no fun, missing people."
Gee, does that sound like anyone else you know?