Fall and Winter Have Retired.

Who'd a thunk?

Not me certainly!

When I said " So long, adieu to you and you and you!",  and tore off the shackles that bound me to a career as an Economic Developer I really had no idea what would happen next, where I would go, what I would do, when I would know I had arrived at that magical place where retired people dwell, how I would manage, what would it be like....

So I had to just LET IT ALL GO. And the night I decided that that was the best plan, this happened:

And nothing was revealed. Well, not quite true. It was a beautiful autumn evening...a Tuesday night. And while we sat around the bonfire enjoying the full  golden moon, the lovely merlot wine, the soft evening breeze it hit me! I didn't have to go to work the next day, and I was accountable to absolutely no-one but me! And so I stayed up past midnight. 

And the next morning, I slept in past 9. And dreamed of a trip to Cape May, that wouldn't be a vacation at all. I didn't have to take a holiday from anything! I just had to go and enjoy the gorgeous ocean breezes, fabulous seafood, stunning scenery, and the birds. Oh, the birds!

And so I did!

Getting used to having no schedule whatsoever, other than a self-imposed one, took about 10 minutes. And then it became a huge release from stress, worry, and time constraints! My time had arrived, without me being aware that I had been waiting for it! 

All of a sudden, I realized that I could do anything I felt like - and I didn't have to wait until the weekend to see friends, go out for dinner, go rambling around, cook, clean or not clean...time had suddenly become my friend!

Hello!

Hello cooking classes. Hello mid-week birding excursions. Hello I don't think I feel like doing anything today. Hello Netflix binge. Hello  afternoon yoga classes. 

Hello life!

Autumn morphed into winter, and even our white world became something to celebrate. Previously there had always been those moments of frustration - have to clear snow off the car, scrape the windshield, put on coats, mitts, boots, scarves moments - just to simply leave the yard. No more!

I can stay in with a book. Or not. I can, and did, go skating and had the most memorable skate of my life one gorgeous sunny day in January when water turned to ice and the magic happened.

It wasn't just one day, either. There was the day when we found not one, not two, but THREE Snowy Owls as we were taking a leisurely afternoon drive around the Valley.

There was the morning when I looked out the window, and saw deer in the yard, and then later, along the road, in the fields, and into the woods...deer here, deer there, oh deer!

There were days of wonder. Days of sleep. Moments of laughter. Time with friends. Time with family. Day dreams. Incredible scenes.

And ever so slowly, my world began to shift. It was - and is - a better place to be. And softly, winter dropped her coat, and it became easier to breathe. And signs of Spring coming appeared. 

The days got longer. And the sun warmed. 

And Spring arrived.

And so did I.

Owl Prowl

It was a brilliant, sunny Saturday  morning in 1980, and I was driving along a snow-covered country road in the   Ottawa Valley. My mood didn't match the passing scenery. Lost in thought about this's and that's and what to do about them all, I barely noticed it at first. A large white football with wings? Oh dear God, an owl! Not just any owl, a Snowy Owl. Practically floating just inches above the hood of my car, its wings steadily beating, and going the exact same speed as me! I have no idea where he came from, but I immediately felt connected and comforted.

Deep inside a childhood memory awoke of my Mother reciting, "A wise old owl sat in an oak/The more he saw the less he spoke/The less he spoke the more he heard/Now wasn't he a wise old bird?" That little nursery rhyme has stayed with me forever, and the wise old owl has been my "spark bird".  My Mom had died  the previous year, and I  believed immediately that this stunning owl, pacing me all the way down the road was a message from her. There were no words. Just peace. That road is about 3 km long, and that bird stayed above the right front part of the car the entire way 'til I had to slow and make a turn, at which point it drifted off across the field and over the horizon. I pulled over and wept.

The next siting was several years later. I had moved away, and then moved back again. And in the meantime, had discovered birding. It was another wintry day scouting out the fields and forests along winding country roads by myself. I often bird alone. It's my time to just be. This day was no different as I pulled over to take a look along an old fence line hoping to see a white oval in the distance. I rolled down the window, reached over for the binoculars on the seat beside me and turned to look at the field. And there he was! Landing on a fence post not 2 metres away! Feet first, little bit of  a shuffle and arranging his wings just so, perfect perch, and then he turned his head and met me face on. Staring, not moving. Considering. We looked at each other for about 2 minutes, me barely breathing, but breathing it all in. Then a big shrug and off he flew, directly north of me, across the field. I put the bins up to follow then, and watched in utter astonishment as he landed mid-way across the stubble, pounced on something, alit, and flew right back to the same fence post where I was parked. Now absolutely astonished, I sat and watched in wonder as he proceeded to eat the mouse he'd just caught for lunch. Slowly, surely, holding it in his claws, delicately pecking and pulling, and finally all done! Again, he turned to look at me, while I still stared. I whispered a quiet "thank-you".
He flew off then, and I drove away having just been given a gift  that I would cherish always.

Good Morning Miss Cellanea

The past several weeks have been full of work, and more work,

then throw in some work, and that about sums it up.

Holidays are wonderful but there's a price to be paid besides the Visa bill at the end of them. Starts with W. So I haven't had much time to sit and relax, and go through the photo albums that are so easy to build on the computer! Take the camera, go for a drive, take lots of shots, download, name the file, and then...wait 'til there's a spare hour hanging about.

That would be now! Finally!

So going through the album for September, I remember this day clearly.

A soft, misting September morning.

Quiet. Perfect day to grab the bins, the books, a bun  

and just go.

The Ottawa Valley is a perfect place to ramble. Rolling meadows, roadside streams, very little traffic once you're off the main highway. You can take your time and look to see what the ditches have to offer.

Obviously well used, and right in the middle of a raspberry patch?

It's all about location, location, location.

Just beyond I spy a sure sign that summer is over, and birds of a feather

are making flight plans.

The signs were everywhere on this day. Some less subtle than others.

Obviously, this is where I was meant to stop.

A place to have a little picnic - or catch one if you can.

The area was originally settled in the 1800's, as loggers and farmers and merchants came to the Ottawa Valley in search of the tall stands of timber. It was a tough life, that spared no one. Coming across small family plots overgrown and unkempt is not an everyday event, but nor is it that rare.

This particular road is an old one, and it was likely once an animal trail, 

  that followed the river. It still is rich with life.

The hunted and the hunters dwell here.

They know they're being watched.

By this guy.

While the chickadees hunt juicy little seeds and berries, and

the Great Blue Heron heads to the next fishing hole.

It's all a matter of perspective. Yours. Mine. Theirs.

Life and death. Daily dramas.

Food for thought.

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/

Fiddleheads

The Ottawa Valley, and especially Pembroke, is renowned for its fiddlers and step dancers. There's a huge annual Old Time Fiddling and Step Dancing Competition held every Labour Day Weekend that attracts musicians and dancers from all over North America to our little city to raise a little hell and have fun while they're at it. People gather at Fiddle Park, and well over 2000 RV's are filled with lovers of  a waltz, a jig and a reel. Anything fiddle goes. But what you won't be able to find is a fiddle head. Because that 's a spring thing, and it's here right now.

If ever you want to know what spring tastes like, this is it. It's fresh, it's green with a slightly bitter after taste, and it goes exceptionally well with butter.

While there are hundreds of different kinds of ferns that grow throughout the woods of eastern Ontario, there is only one fiddlehead, and at maturity it looks like this...

They grow to about 2 feet high, they like damp, shady areas, and you often see them as transplants -up against a house foundation -don't eat those ones though, the homeowners might get a little testy if you're caught lurking around the back porch. If they're this size, you're too late...

You need to pluck them when they're just up out of the ground, still tightly furled,

just like the head of a fiddle.

Rinse them really well to get rid of the brown papery covering, in fact, I rinse them and then par boil really quickly -no more than 2 minutes. Discard that water, then toss into a pan, cover with a bit of salted water, bring to a boil for about 3 minutes (same time  as you would give asparagus) so that they're still slightly crunchy. Serve hot with butter, salt and pepper to taste - and it's music time for your mouth while your taste buds do the two step! And the very best part?? It's free food -  and it can be yours for the picking.

Bon Appetit!

My View

It's Skywatch Friday, and  our sky  -just outside the window -has been absolutely incredible in the past 24 hours....
I glanced out, and this little rainbow caught my eye. It must be raining in Westmeath.

Ten minutes later, the cloud lifted. Literally.

Early the next morning, the show was still on...and the sky was ablaze.

Imagine having a wall this colour.  I did.

visit Skywatch Friday for views from all over the world

http://www.skyley.blogspot/

It's Just Another Day

24 hours. Nothing special planned. No where to go, no one to see, nothing that has to get done. A take it as it comes kind of day. And so I did.
Busloads of tourists come to our area every year to see the fall colours. The tour operators tag the tours with catchy names like "The Flaming Leaf" or "Autumn Rhapsody". We call them a sure sign that winter's on its way.



















As I was taking the shot of the leaves, I could hear a little chirping. Saw a quick flit out of the corner of my eye and swung the camera in that direction, hoping to capture the source of the commotion. Ah Ha! A little Yellow Rumped Warbler...so cute. Often called "Butter Bum" and you can see why.

















This is a shot of the Ottawa River from the bridge that links Ontario and Quebec. These rapids were used as a "Toll Gate" by the Algonquin back in the days when the fur trade and les voyageurs were combing this area, seeking pelts and prospecting for tall pines for masts for her majesty's ships back in England. The Algonquin wouldn't let them use the portages on either side of the rapids until they paid with tools, utensils, beads, or whatever the hot commodity was in favour that season.





















The sky on Tuesday evening, through the living room window. Raining in Greenwood. Funny thing about living on the river, in the Ottawa Valley. There are hills to the north and south of us (hence, valley) and the weather will often circle around us. It was the other side's turn to get wet.














This morning, the view from the window is completely different. Large flocks of Canada Geese rest in our bay overnight, lulling us to sleep with their chatter, and waking us up with the same...only more insistent and considerably louder.



















Just after I took the shot the geese from the window, the sun burst through the clouds...day break. And that's the past 24 hours at home in the Valley. Now on to the next.

Skywatch Friday

Today was a glad to be alive day here in the Ottawa Valley! Skies that give the word 'azure' its meaning, clouds that look like you could live on them, and sun that warmed the soul!
Looking due south from our home on the Ottawa River...Take a turn to the east...

90 degrees to the right brings you to the north...this is a blog about, among other things, birds..but I don't have a clue what little feathered friend this is...a bird in the north, caught by the camera..warbler, and that's as far as I can go...any guesses?So then I look to the east, beside the cottage... this little sprite I do know...


And a turn to the west brings us to this view that we get to enjoy daily...And one more look just before I post this...a spectacular harvest moon that will likely keep poets, songwriters and lovers busy tonight. Enjoy!

For more views of the sky from around the world, visit http://skyley.blogspot.com/

Jus' Fiddling Around

To enhance your reading pleasure, click here
http://www.canadiangrandmasters.ca/mp3/AndreBrunetTuneOfChoice.mp3
(That's Andre Brunet, a Canadian Fiddling Grandmaster playing)

As we (me and a great committee of staff and volunteers)are putting the final touches on our plans for this year's annual Waterfront Festival it's hard not to think about the amazing talent that exists n the Ottawa Valley!
The "Valley" was first settled 180 years ago by a rough and ready mixture of Scottish, Irish, German, and Polish lumberjacks, who honed their musical skills in the logging camps during the long winter nights. Step dancing and fiddling help to while away many an evening,as there were no boom boxes, TV's or laptops available. While I definitely do NOT profess to know much about music, I DO know that the fiddling that evolved out of the Ottawa Valley is considered "dirtier" than that found in Ireland, and the dancing is looser...Likely because

they were all having far too much fun to worry about concerts before the Queen and her consorts!
Most importantly, when the men would erupt from the logging camps in the spring like a bunch of wild banchees, the fun really began, and thousands of little stepdancers and fiddlers and singers were begetted or begatted. And that lineage is responsible for the the fact that you can't swing a cat without hitting a musician of some sort here in the Ottawa Valley today.
And a great bunch of people they are too!

Brian Hebert, Peter Dawson, Louis Schreyer - all from the Ottawa Valley - all in the Ottawa Valley Music Hall of Fame - and AMAZING to listen to and or watch. Bands from the 70's, like Rocky Sands and the Pebbles with the incredible vocal chords of Eli Boucher, and his band of merry dancers with really big hair, and really tight pants. THAT'S a sight for sore eyes! And to top it off, they weren't good, they were great! Three decades later they can still sing, and dance, and fill the local arena.

Not to be outdone are local legends like Timmy Hermitte, who croons and fiddles and charms everyone he meets - and has been playing pretty much all of his life.

And then there's Sab, with a voice like Tom Waits, a love of cherry whiskey, rock and roll and life itself.
These guys are all phenomenal, and many will be playing here in Pembroke this summer - along with their friends and families - at the Waterfront Festival - Aug. 7, 8, 9, 2009.

It's a Celebration of the Ottawa Valley, and YOU should come!