Reed or Weed...Trash or Treasure

We have the absolute best, bar none, neighbours in the entire western world. No contest! They are kind, gentle, funny and friendly in assorted degrees. We get along great, and John and I consider ourselves blessed to count them as important people in our lives. When we go away, they watch the house and care for the cats. We share our garden with them. And we have dinner parties, and gatherings, and we laugh a lot together.

All except for one thing... and that is MY insistance that the beach grass remain undisturbed in front of our place. They respect that, they do, but it bugs them. They prefer an ocean style shorefront (where rapid wave action prevents grasses from establishing on the shoreline).

But what actually exists is a river's edge,where the plants establish themselves to prevent erosion of the shoreline, provide fish and amphibian habitat, and food for migrating birds. Not rocket science, but definitely botany and the laws of natural selection being imposed.

They  ( the two husbands) respect my wish not to have them "rake" our beach with their ATV's by dragging a bedspring type contraption behind them. And they cringe when I ask them how they're enjoying my grassy garden.
It's confusing ...they're here - riverside -  because they proclaim to love nature- the fish, the birds, bugs, and butterflies.

They just don't seem to make the connection between all of the things they like about the waterfront, and the impact that clearing it has. No fish. No birds. No bugs. No butterflies. Just a bunch of crows and vultures!  (seriously, they wouldn't be here either if there was just sand)

Drives me crazy really. And if either of the two hubby's ever read this, know that I love you both...but I don't love what you're doing to the shoreline.
There. Said it. (But you already knew all this).
It's very difficult to try and find the fine, thin line between good neighbours, boundaries, philosophies, and friendship.
Caw  caw!

The First Snow

Several years ago I read an interesting thriller by Peter Hoeg entitled Smilla's Sense of Snow.  It was set in Denmark and Greenland and what struck me while reading it was the many different kinds of snow that revealed clues about a murder.  I'd never really thought about different kinds of snow before, although that's odd for a Canadian who spends about five months of the year dealing with the fluffy white stuff. 
We northern climate dwellers spend an inordinate amount of time talking about the weather. And today, as the first snowfall of the season fell around us, the chatter turned to snow in all its variations. I agreed with the Treasurer who stated firmly that we all love the first snow...until we get to the age that we are the ones sent outside to shovel it. And it's true. Today it fell gently around us, and you could almost hear the jingles warming up to start the bells of Christmas!
The Operations Department Manager called today's snowfall "white rain". It took less than 5 seconds to process that it meant he wouldn't have to arrange for any snow plowing or sanding of the roads and sidewalks, because it was melting on concrete and asphalt surfaces. This kind of snow makes really good snowballs  as it sticks tightly together in your hands, and holds its shape when thrown at your friends or enemies. It's too wet for snowmen, and there isn't enough of it on the ground...which is still warm(ish) and preventing accumulation.

Tomorrow, all this snow will be gone. In time though, within weeks, there will be sugar snow, that is slippery and dangerous on the roads. Powder, which is excellent if you happen to be at a ski resort. There will be skiffs of snow, and crystal snow, and yellow snow. And there will be drifts, mounds, mountains and dumps of it.
 Ah snow.

For today, the sky was beautifully soft and grey. And we all took a private moment and watched as nature blanketed our world with her cold and beautiful duvet.

Hawkalert!

I think someone should invent a webcam that's about the size of a pea, that one could wear like an earring or hair bauble or something equally charming. And then when you happen to be out and about, and you don't have a ten pound camera just handily hanging around your neck, but you DO have your point and shoot digital dead battery carrier on hand...you could actually take a picture of something you see that's awesome!
Like the Sharp Shinned Hawk in the garden, who nabbed one of the crows from a previous blog, and took off into parts unknown to savour some crow pie for lunch!
Or, the Sharp Shinned Hawk in the garden , who nabbed a goldfinch under the feeder , and took off into other parts, still unknown, to enjoy some finch fingers.
Or, the Sharp Shinned Hawk in the neighbour's garden (finally!) who nabbed the little chipmunk, and flew off into totally unknown parts for some finch and chips.
I have not one photo to prove any of the above, but I will tell you this...I am getting new batteries for the camera, and I am keeping it in my pocket always!

Lots to Crow About

Lots of people don't like crows. Matter of fact, lots of people hate crows. They're loud, bumptious (love that word!), cantankerous, ornery, ill-mannered flockers! Not unlike a bunch of teenagers hanging out at the mall. (Not yours or mine, of course). But... I happen to think they're pretty cool. I know, I know - the CAWCawCawCAW-ing at 5 am on a Saturday morning doesn't win them many friends and it likely influences a lot of others that the crows should be watching out for over at the local dump.
But I once had the honour of trying to nurse a wounded crow back to health - after he'd been winged by an errant bit of buckshot at the dump - and my opinion of, and respect for, crows changed almost instantly! For starters, up close and personal, they're stunning! Irridescent green, bronze, black, and midnight blue blend to create a cloak of darkness, but when captured in sunlight, they positively glimmer. Another thing? Very,very smart! We kept Boris our wounded winger in a reasonably large cage, suitable for a mid-sized dog. He had that latch to freedom figured out within an hour! Little peck here, a pull there, and bingo! I'm outta here! Since the experience with that handsome fellow, I've watched crows a lot more closely. We have three at present who like to lurk around the feeders in our yard. Little feeders meant to hold peanuts for little nuthatches, and suetcakes for downy wee woodpeckers. But do the tricky trio think they're too big for the feeders? Absolutely not, sunflower seed! A few days ago, I watched in wonder as one stood on a fence post, close to the metal tube peanut holder. He hitched his leg up and caught the feeder with his claw, drew it over to his beak, and then proceeded to chow down 'til that tube was totalled and the nuts were gone. Now that 's something to crow about!