I Saw The Monarch Today!!

It was very exciting, because it's not something that happens every day here in the Ottawa Valley!
It was also a tad odd, because she was hanging about with a bunch of viperous has-beens. Not at all what I expected really. I mean we go to great lengths to cultivate the proper young guns that will attract and retain her attention around these here parts! She's definitely not here all that often and has flown 1000's of miles just to spend a few hot and steamy days in our midst, so naturally, we do all we can to make her visit meaningful.
However, come she did (we hope) and the rather fluttery thing by her side was  nice to see too! Her once and still charming prince...leaping up whenever she moved anywhere near him. Doing his duty for God and the Queen - I guess  he must take that rather literally!
Then all too quickly, it was over...all good things must, of course, come to an end...and like proper folk everywhere, they just discreetly folded up, and  sought a quiet corner  to recover from a very exciting time!
Oh...and Canada's Monarch, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth was in Ontario today too accompanied by her Prince Philip. Coincidence? I think not!

She was likely much too busy attending dinners and eating cake to notice the real Monarchs among us!

The regal pose of a true Monarch in repose.

The Heroes in our Midst

Funny...if you google heroes, which I just did, up pops about a trillion links to the TV series about beautiful teens and 20 somethings fighting the  good fight based on good versus evil. It's  a mish mash of  Sci-fi meets Harlequin romance, and somedays, the good guys win, and other days, they get smashed to pulp by the bad guys.

No where did I find any reference to Dave. ...

When Dave isn't providing impassioned oratory for some community event (like Canada Day) as our wonderful Town Crier, he's a Lay Preacher, and he works for the Canadian Cancer Society fighting the battle of our lives.

He can't  jump tall buildings or self mend his broken bones if he falls from one of them. But he's there where needed. He's a real hero.

Like Gord...

Not only does Gord show up to play taps for the Legion Band whenever required,

he's also working relentlessly to help save the Chalk River Nuclear Laboratory,through an employee coalition called CREATE, to establish a  national research laboratory in Canada. Tough job, but someone has to do it.

Play the Reveille Gord.

Whenever there is a community event, it becomes self evident who the real heroes are...they're the ones who care enough to show up. They don't use words like shoulda, woulda, or coulda. They are people of action who believe that actions speak louder than words.

Some of them play the bagpipes, fairly loudly, as a case in point.

And they're not just blowing hot air. They love what they're doing, and are proud to be a part of the pomp and circumstance that requires their attendance. They're heroes.

Yes, there are other kinds of heroes, who have fought valiently for national and international causes, who have lost liberty and freedom and risked life and limb...

We honour them.

While at the same time, we pray that the duly elected officials of our Nation act wisely on our behalf.

But really?

We don't need another hero.

We just need people like Dave and Gord. People who show up.

Sing it Tina.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F1FPK5-Rm38

Linear Thinking

The phrase "Linear Thinking" comes up often in the thoughts that I think.

I believe that the mold was broken in my family, when I, the fourth and final child, popped out of my mother's by then weary womb.

My siblings are linear thinkers all. They know how to get from A to
B to C to D .. and all the way to Z...one determined step at a time.

They have successfully climbed their respective ways to the top of their personal flights of stairs, and this is all good.

Then there's me!

Sometimes guilty of being flighty, and drawn to the cock of the walk. Sometimes just plain feather brained. And sometimes, rather chaotic in my thinking. I, unlike my siblings, do not go from A to Z in an orderly fashion.

No I do not.

I love to mix things up, throw caution to the wind, and  see what lands if you turn sideways.

I remember being in grade school - round about 10 years old, and the teacher (Miss Wushke) asked  the class to list all the things one could do with a  brick.

Thinking it was a test of some kind, I tossed, and turned and perculated on the question, and ultimately came up with 130 uses for a brick. It wasn't a contest.

But she was amazed. And half the class wouldn't speak to me after that, as I had officially crossed the LINE. I was a school geek girl.

Shit.

Thus began a life long attempt to build bridges with others who think differently. Not better. Not worse. Just different.

Sometimes I find ways to bridge the gaps, and sometimes, I don't know zip.

The thrill is in the seeking. Crossing lines of my choosing.

And exploring some of the many paths between A and Z.

Let'er Zip!

If You're Happy and You Know It Clap Your Hands

Because I am sick and tired of reading the news, hearing all the buck passing, watching the head shaking and eye rolling, and listening to the excuses for the latest environmental catastrophe,  today’s topic will be about hands.

Hands  on.

                                               

Hands off.

Shaking hands.

Helping hands.

Handily.

Handsome.

Hand it over.

Hand made.

Hand fed.

Handshake.

Handyman.

Then there’s the whole “many hands make light the work” thing.

And “idle hands are the devil’s tools” or some such handy saying for wayward teens and BP oil executives.

also

Hand over fist.

Hand held.

Hand me downs.

and

Hand in hand.

Heart in hand.



All this because I went on a foraging course!

From which I came home and said, “Hi honey, I'm home! Here’s a burdock root I dug for your dinner!” and decided that apart from learning that pretty much everything around here is edible, the gentle man teaching the class has lovely hands. And he knows far more about the relationships between the micro/macro/endo/ecto/ whatevero living things that call Earth home and the biological necessity of synergy. In other words,  if we don't  all hold hands, we'll be going to hell in a hand basket.

Hands Up?

It's Not Just the View, It's the Vision

The irony of the title is that I wrote it as a headline for a full page print ad selling high rise condos in the 90's. It was for a real estate development company that had so much vision - mainly of sugar plums - that  it lost sight of the bottom line and went belly up. At the time, I wrote a lot of poetic dribble about "lofty" views and didn't mention the sky high prices except in passing, as an afterthought..a little half million dollar blip.

Last week I spent some time in the country, on a "real food" course. There wasn't a high rise condo in sight!

It took two hours to walk less than 1/2 km (1/4 mile) as we let our inner children out to play.

There was barely anything in the meadow that couldn't sustain you, and we stopped to look, touch, smell and taste it all.The man teaching the class calls himself a polyculturalist.

For him,  "leave only footprints" is a lifestyle, not a park slogan.

He has learned to live with the plants and animals on this earth...encouraging some, ignoring others...but being of the environment. Of is the operative word here. He does not seek to thwart, threaten, or have dominion over any of it. He is aware and therefore, part of it.

In turn, it supports and provides and sustains him and his family.

He is happier, and clearer eyed that any man I've met in a long while. He does NOT remind me of the real estate moguls who one by one, bit the proverbial dust, and are no longer part of anything.

The world is weary of all the bad news...at least I certainly am...and the environmental disaster that has yet to be contained in the Gulf of Mexico. The devastation is not yet fully realized, but it will be reminding us of man's inability to control nature for decades to come... daily nudges that fossil fuels and greed is a marriage made in hell. And the alimony payments will be horrendous.

Thankfully, hope springs eternal!

These are not ancient Olympic rings - although they could well be. They are fish nests in the wetlands leading into Long Point conservation area beside Lake Erie. They're the  first to be observed here in several years. Here because a group of people had a vision that linked back to nature instead of bulldozing it over.

No condos, no parking lots. Just paradise with a great view.

for other views visit: http://skyley.blogspot.com

The Rolling Thunder Review

Spring this year is not  behaving properly. It's supposed to be generally sunny, with warm gentle breezes,  and soft rain.  Instead, it's often hazy, hot and humid, and many times in the late afternoon,

the gods of thunder come for a visit.

Zeus, Odin, Jupiter, Thor...

they take turns  rolling down the river, threatening to drown us with their cumulous sorrows and vast veils of tears.

They put on amazing shows...but  like so many politicians, it's mostly just a bunch of hot air, filled with sound and fury,

and signifying nothing.

How does one placate a thunder god ?

Visit http://skyley.blogspot/ for more views of the world today.

Take My Picture and Make it Snappy!

I know. I KNOW!

It's not easy being beautiful, and please don't hate ME because I am.

I see you no-shells. You swirl around me, and make loud honking sounds, and get close to me, and then leave (!) your shiny shells and place yourselves in great danger of being hit by other shiny shells, just because you see ME.

You want to help ME cross the big, gray, dry stubbley river.

You know you like ME.

It's not easy being beautiful.

Does YOUR Mother love YOU?

Mine would likely snap my head off if she was still around!
But she's not. Uhn -uh. No siree. Left me lying in a gravel pit on the side of the gray stubbley river. She left me! So I pecked myself out, dusted myself off, and headed for the nearest swamp. There are likely still flecks of Mommy dearest on my wrinkly carpacious back. Thanks to YOU and your disposable  shiny shell things.

Bet you  didn't know that I am the OFFICIAL REPTILE of New York. Chosen because I am crusty, cranky, and on a scale of one to ten? I'm an eleven.

Bite you.

(That's what I'll do if you come too close.)

And you want to talk about claws? Hah! I nailed that one!

And political cartoons? Hah hah!!

ME! 1807. I was the first!

Betcha didn't know that  Ograbme is Embargo spelled backwards! And this little snippet is all about the Jeffersonian Embargo.

I'd bite anyone who tried to trade with  the British.

You love ME!

Now, make like a turtle. And make it snappy.

The Long Point of View

Long Point on Lake Erie in southwestern Ontario is a long way from home - a bum numbing seven hours spent on Canada's busiest highway, and then some. But once you arrive, it's worth the drive.

Best friends, birding and basking on the beach. Life's good.

Add some fresh asparagus, and it's perfect!

To learn more about the Long Point Bird Observatory, please visit them online at

http://www.bsc-eoc.org/longpoint/index.jsp

See more of the world around you at http://www.skyley.blogspot.com/

Find'em, Drill'em, Fill'em, Bill'em

Back in the not-so-kinder, but definitely younger days when I was married to a student dentist,  this (see title) was the Toothy Tune that the soon to be drillers, fillers and billers would hum.  At the time, it seemed harmless, silly and, well, yes, thoughtless. But like, who cared, eh?

Then along came the Karma concept, and all was revealed. You should be nicer, and maybe give a little bit. No, not the large burr, it's too expensive, but the little bit- because, like,  if you were not nice, then FATE would come along and bite you in the ass. And Harry Chrishna to ya too! It was definitely don't see, don't tell and inhale if you want, but keep it to yourself  time.

Then real life got in the way.

Three decades, two divorces, and kids later, and whaddya know?

It's find'em, drill'em, fill'em and bill'em time...all over again,  and with a cosmic, karmic twist...

And to the victims, go the oils.

What. Have. We. Done?

These pictures were taken two months ago, on the then clean beach in the Gulf of Mexico.

Make a wish...

At the time, we were busy complaining about the unseasonably cold weather.

while the gulls and terns flocked together for warmth and protection.

I wonder what they're doing now?

The Farmer in the Dell

And in the spring, a young man's fancy turns to dust, and dirt, and the urge to plant seeds so he can then reap what he sows at a later date. It's a hard, thankless task pretty much, and threatening to become a lost art as North American farming and food production becomes ruled by large corporations, and the disconnect between what the employee (aka farmer) is told to plant,

and what is right for the land grows ever larger.

The ubiquitous corn crop - a curse, not a cure.

So, today is an ode to the farm, the farmer, and his field of dreams.

This is what milk looks like before it's packaged into cartons and jugs and bags. These are jersey cows, prized for their rich milk and the dairy products like cheese that are made from it.

Here's a AAA Black Angus steak on the hoof.

Really raw hamburger looks like this...

This is what a scrambled egg looks like, before it hits the pan. It is also what your chicken wings look like before they hit McDonalds.

And seriously? There's really only one question to ask here...

WHY?

Hi ho the dairio, the farmer's in the dell!

Canadian singer/songwriter Murray McLaughlin's The Farmer's Song

is an eloquent tribute to farmers...enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a1eoOI6gi24

Just Another Manic Monday.

I was late getting to work this morning. I left with plenty of time to pick up a Tim Horton's coffee, and have a leisurely drive to put the day, and the week, into perspective. I headed out the driveway, admiring the bright yellow daffodils that look so perky and cheerful, and feeling pretty proud of myself for actually remembering to plant them last fall!

As I came to the first bend in our driveway, I also noticed a bunch of little pinecones sitting straight up on the edge of the road? That's weird - so of course, I pulled over for a closer look, and Eureka!! Not pinecones at all, but a whole little herd of morels! We have spent many hours to little or no avail, combing the meadows of our area looking for what is  thought (by many gourmands) to be the best edible mushroom that grows wild in eastern Ontario and western Quebec.  And here!! Right here in my own backyard, there's a flock of them!

 

They're pretty easily identified. They look like little conehead brains and are hollow on the inside.

There are blonde, brown, and grey versions (just like my own personal hair stages). It's antithesis, the False Morel  is poisonous, doesn't have a fully attached cap, is black and slimy, and has white frothy stuff inside the stem. Everything about the False Morel says, "don't eat me".

I was pretty excited and called John to come with a bag and help pick them - which he did. So, guess what's for dinner tonight?  It made for a memorable morning. 

And it made me late.  Thus, when I pulled into the parking lot of the arena where my office is located,

I had completely forgotten that we have visitors in town today.

Not everyday an elephant takes my parking space - but she's 38 years old, and gentle, and she can have it for as long as she wants. She is sharing it with a few of her friends too.

Awww. They're very cute, and while I don't generally advocate for live animal circuses, I do know that these animals are well cared for and loved by their trainers and keepers. Our Animal By Law Enforcement Officer checks to make sure they are being properly tended - as does every other ABEO in Canada, wherever the Circus visits.

The big questions, of course, always revolve around the poop - as in "Who's going to scoop the poop?" and "What do you do with elephant poop, or pony poop?"   and  "Can I purchase the poop?", and of course that favourite question that inquisitive minds just need to know, "How big is  elephant poop?"

Imagine! All this, and it's not even noon yet.