It's Looking Up

This is my busiest week of the year, and today we're  putting the final touches on the site for the annual summer music festival. It's a crazy, hectic, detail day looking for what could possibly go wrong, what have we missed ,

what was forgotten, and what should we do if and in case.

In the midst of it all, I looked up and saw the silver lining.

Tonight's going to be a good night.

Filled with energy and expectations riding high...just like this little guy must have felt when he watched

and then copied his friend the Hummingbird...

There are no hard and fast rules. Whatever works, works.

Just take time to notice.

for more world views, visit http://skyley.blogspot.com/

When Hairy Met Sullen

I woke up in a bad mood this morning. It was an inauspicious start to the day. Cats hungry. Raucous crows outside fighting over whatever it is crows fight about. Everything? Whatever, I was feeling cranky too.

Being the middle of a long weekend, the need to do something a little out of the ordinary was niggling me at the edges. My inner athlete was saying, “Hey, get off your ass and do something! Today’s a good day for a bike ride.” So a bike ride it was. We live beside the PPJ Cycloparc, a bike path that extends from the Quebec border on the Ottawa River, and meanders along the river’s edge for about 82 km towards Ottawa. Well, I had no intention whatsoever of going that far, but a little 5 km spin would be just about right, take 20 minutes and leave me feeling slightly superior to my John, who was standing around, drinking coffee, with a hose in his other hand watering the garden in a better mood. Off I went.

Back 20 minutes later, John says, “I know what we can do today...we can go see the new trail they built up to Oiseau Rock. Oiseau Rock towers over the river near Deep River, and is a sacred site for the Algonquin. It’s got native pictographs that are historically significant and years of local graffiti that isn’t. While interested in seeing the site from the top down (as opposed to being in a boat and looking up, which is how I’ve always seen it before) there is a major problem with this suggestion. I hate hills and I hate climbing. Downhill skiing? Good. Cross country? Bad. Flat? Perfect. Up? No.

But, I thought, maybe I could give it a go, just to be a good sport. So grumbling flitting gaily around the house I begrudgingly cheerfully gathered water bottles, bathing suits, bags of nuts, and some fruit. The drive -about 20 km from here - heads straight up into the hills (up in a truck is ok) on a poorly maintained gravel road, with lots of sharp turns and loose boulders waiting to attack. Approach signage is minimal, as in one small 8” x 11” plastic sign featuring a pictograph. And if you happen to be blinking at the time, well so sad, you’re lost. Which we were within minutes. However, John does have a great sense of direction (compared to me, who is directionally challenged) and we ultimately found the parking lot at the edge of the trail. There was a sign there explaining the significance of the site, and how the natives revered it. What it clearly did not say was how long the trail is to the top of Oiseau Rock. 4 km. One way. And the very first 100 m was pretty much straight up. Hill. My inner athlete thought “absolutely no effing way Great!” And off we went. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. For 2 hours. Did I mention that it was 26 C? (83F). No? Well it was. But, and here the truth be told, it’s a beautiful trail, through some virgin forest, green and verdant and filled with birdsong.

FINALLY we got to a sign that said: Oiseau Rock 2 km. Parking Lot 2 km. Had it been Grand Central Station I would have sat down and wept. And still we walked. We passed three other groups...all returning from the lookout...all quite cheerful and quite sweaty. They mumbled encouraging words as they passed. John cheerfully smiled and said hello. I didn’t.

And then it happened. A bend in the trail, and a small white sign depicting Scenic View. Don’t Fall off the Cliff.

We had arrived at the top and could see the beach far, far below us. The boats looked like tiny toys, the people tiny ants.

The view of the Ottawa Valley, spectacular. Half way down the rock was the lake people climb up to swim in, and we decided we weren’t going to climb down to swim in, then back up to the top of the mountain again. That was asking too much. Way too much.

But we had done it! And so we had a celebratory drink of water and a plum. I won’t bore you with the details of the return hike. It was brutal and I almost expired with heat exhaustion challenging. With the air conditioning on full, we made it back home to the beach, and into the kayaks in record time. Paddling out to the swimming hole I realized I was feeling better...fit and full and content.

Diving into the cool water, it was a great way to end the day – and to celebrate 16 years together! An anniversary to remember.

( And next time we wash our hair in the river, I’ll remember to bring conditioner too)

What is a Community in Bloom?

For the past several weeks, I have been consumed with Communties in Bloom, an international competitive civic beautification program that fosters civic pride and ultimately allows participants to cite tangible examples of improved quality of life within their villages, towns and  cities. This week the judges arrived to assess our efforts. One of the critical elements that is provided is a Community Profile Book that outlines all of the municipality's accomplishments in 8 different categories. This is used to help compare apples to apples as the judges travel North America and Europe, evaluating the entries. My job is to write that book, and this year it occurred to me that defining a community in bloom is not a simple thing...it's much, much more than hanging baskets of flowers....

This is the foreword to the book:

 Eleven years ago, when Pembroke first enrolled in the Communities in Bloom program, the thinking was relatively straight forward: being a community in bloom meant that we would take better care of our surroundings, and encourage others to do so as well. It would look nicer, and therefore, likely be nicer. And that is exactly what happened.

That first year, driving into Pembroke on the day the judges were to arrive, I remember feeling awed at the changes I saw! Clean streets, beautiful flower beds, everything looked so nice and welcoming and there was an almost palpable feeling of hope and optimism for the future. Those feelings haven’t changed in the past decade – but some years you feel it more than others.

The past two years in particular have been interesting because there was a lot of negative economic news throughout North America and the world as the most far reaching recession in decades hit homes in the cities, towns and villages of Canada. Finally, this spring the business news picked up, jobs were created, and the world heaved a sigh of relief. Here in Pembroke, we emerged relatively unscathed, as our economy is not dependent on a single industry. Still though, families were stressed, and tough times were had.

They’ve been had before in this town, which started as a rough and ready frontier camp, with a scattering of tree prospectors staking claims to the tall stands of timber 180 years ago. There’s a boom, bust and echo story here that gets retold about every 20 years…but one thing that never changes is the spirit of the people who live in Pembroke.

The people of Pembroke are proud, stubborn, and relentlessly helpful when help is needed. They pitch in, pick up and pat their neighbours back the moment they hear someone’s hurting. It’s an awesome thing to observe. And that’s what a community in bloom is.

It’s a collective of people who respond to each other. There when the going gets tough, and there to celebrate after the job is done. A community in bloom is not just “that flower thing”, it is the communal spirit that plants the seeds of good will, and that regenerates and nurtures itself throughout time. In sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse…that’s the spirit!
And that’s what makes Pembroke an incredible Community in Bloom. ...


What's YOUR definition of Community?

Pining Away

 It's been so hot lately here in the beautiful Ottawa Valley, that it saps the thoughts right out of me, and they dribble away meekly hoping for a cool breeze to revive them. Writing is a chore it seems, better suited for cooler weather!
So instead, I thought I'd share some photos I took a few weeks ago at Les Chutes Coulonge, a waterfall park not far from here that's an example of the creative re-use of primary resource material. The log drive used to take place on many rivers in this part of Canada.

It's the reason the region was first settled 180 years ago as tree prospectors came looking for tall white pines to make masts for her Majesty's fleet of ships back in jolly old England.

Today, the park has a  trendy zip line through the tree canopy and across the falls. Where nature used to be harnessed to drive the timbers to market, now it's tourists who are harnessed, screeching their way across the canyon, as the timbers quietly watch.

for more scenes from around the world, go to http://www.skyley.blogpost.com/

The Tom Sawyer Approach to Renovations

Haggle, bicker, nag and bribe...none of these traditional  methods of getting something done around here was being particularly effective this past month. The screened side porch was in dire need of paint and a polish, and  most definitely new screens. The bugs didn't have to bash  and bruise their tiny probisci to come for dinner. Uh uh. They just made a bee line for one of several holes that had appeared over the past decade.

Something had to be done, and early one Saturday morning in mid-June, after a fortifying cuppa coffee, I did it. While my prince lay resting his weary bones, I tore a strip of screen off one panel,  and then another...and that was that. Gaping holes in the porch wall where now anything ...bugs, bees, bears, and anyone...could amble in and join us for breakfast. The gauntlet had been dropped and the project was on!

I was pretty sure that this would be a quick little job, as they so often are...so set about emptying the porch of all furniture, washing the floor, and preparing a list of stuff that we needed to finish the job by supper time: floor paint, brushes, rollers, screening, paint for uprights, and beer.

When  John arose, we were off to the races, or at least to Home Hardware for the necessary supplies...and back home, ready to go by oh, about 2:00 pm. First the floor...a quick fresh coat of butter yellow so it looks like the  sun is always shining...I barely got started, when John began telling me to go parallel to the wall.

"Hmm, "  I wondered to myself, "which of the three walls might he be meaning?" So I picked the left wall and began the long w-shaped roller strokes.
"No, No", he promptly said, as he sipped his coffee, " not that wall, the other one."

So I switched directions, and chose the other one. Oops! Wrong again!  And two wrongs made me realize that Tom Sawyer was absolutely right! During the course of painting his fence he  had "discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it — namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to obtain."  That (a perfectly painted floor) seemed to be happening right at my finger tips! So I handed the roller to my friendly critic and suggested he give it try to show me how, while I 'd go in and  see about rustling up some late lunch.

Perfectly painted porch floor was glistening as we sat down to a quick bite to eat half an hour later. And on we bungled. First removing the rest of the screening, then getting ready to paint all the battons, and naturally discovering a host of little "problems" that had cropped up over the intervening years...like wood rot and 2 x 4's that would need to be replaced. Ah well. As my dad always said, (and yours too, I  bet) " If a job's worth doing, it's worth doing right." So we worked 'til the light left us, and said okay, tomorrow we'll get at it bright and squirrely. Which we did actually. I awoke at dawn to the sounds of cat meeting squirrel on the deck, as squirrel was interrupted trying to have a little breakfast of sunflower seed I'd inadvertly left in the porch overnght. No fur flew, but it was time for day 2.

Problem with day 2 was the weather...I mean who wants to paint in the pouring rain? So we waited 'til it cleared up, then slowly got assembled, and started the tedious task of putting the porch back together again. My brother and his lovely wife were arriving the next day , so it would be really nice to have this wee project done!

But, alas...it wasn't. It was partially done, as in some of the posts were painted, some of the screen was up, some wasn't down yet, none of the battons were back up...and then arrived the brother. And the second Tom Sawyer truth along with him."Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do, and play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do."

Well, my brother did not consider fixing the porch work at all! And neither did my sister in law! Holy get the job done right! They were totally into making this porch a master piece. Battons? Ha!! Battons, molding, mitre cuts, measuring for gawd sakes! These two saw a project, knew John and I were pretty much incompetent DIYers, and they just took over! The Taj Mahal Porch is something we never envisioned, and had we emphatically stated that it wasn't necessary to go to all this trouble. "You're on holidays you two! Relax!We don't need to do this while you're here " was met with deaf ears, and Tom Sawyer noted that, "To promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world to make a body want to go and do that very thing."

What can I say! Total time to finish the job? Seven days! But the final result looks great, my brother got to practice his finishing carpentry skills, my sister-in-law had something to do besides listen to the men natter about men stuff, and my prince got to watch a job well done, er, done well!
And me? Well, I got exactly what I wanted too!

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.