The Canoe

The leaves are gone, the birds are gone, but the forest still remains...filled with silent sentinels waiting for winter's cloak to envelop the land. It is a good time to go for a walk, to see the bare bones of these woods that we call our back yard.We live beside the Ottawa River in eastern Ontario, a land once ruled by the Algonquin. They are still present, and still play an important role in our community...not the least of which is the preservation of their culture. It is to the Algonquin that we owe our thanks for the ubiquitous Canadian canoe. Originally made of birch bark, the canoe was common on the lakes and rivers of this area.
In our back yard are many birch trees who's botanical grandparents  may have contributed to a canoe or two. On a day like today,with no leaves to block the view, and no birds to distract me, one can easily see why the birch was chosen as a prime building material. It's strong yet pliable, waterproof, light, and readily available.
Former Prime Minister, Pierre Elliot Trudeau, loved the wilderness and being out in it. He was an expert paddler, who was seldom thwarted. He once wrote, "What sets a canoeing expedition apart is that it purifies you more rapidly and inescapably than any other travel. Travel a thousand miles by train and you are a brute; pedal five hundred on a bicycle and you remain basically a bourgeois; paddle a hundred in a canoe and you are already a child of nature."

The canoe is a Canadian icon. Renowned author and historian, the late Pierre Berton, once wrote, "A true Canadian is one who can make love in a canoe without tipping",  to which the clever reparte is, "Anyone can make love in a canoe, it's a Canadian who knows enough to take out the centre thwart!" This is the stuff of culture...and that keeps us from being thought of simply as fur  bearing lumberjacks who yodel.  yodellolaaaadddddyyyywho!     If you would like to learn more about either the Algonquin, or the canoe, visit: http://www.algonquinsofpikwakanagan.com/Culture%20birch%20bark%20canoe%202004.htm

15 Minutes of Frosty Fame

Roadside weeds are just that ...shaggy, scrubby twigs, reeds, seeds and tangled tough stuff.    I pass them daily and sometimes in heat of summer they are overwhelming with their lush, passionate growth. They overcome the land that hosts them,  but in so doing, they become hosts themselves to birds, bugs,butterflies and all manner of creature that we don't encourage on our  tidy urban patches of manicured bland.   The humble weed field is more or less ignored, left alone to its own devices...visited occaisionally by birders and  bears.   But then, the day arrives when it is, indeed, the Weed's Day.

The day that nature turns her attention to the ditches, meadows and swamps. With a quick dip of her brush into the crystal container she instantly turns the bland to grand. Queen Anne's Lace becomes a delicate incredibly rare piece of art.

The lonely Robin's nest etches its longing for summer in the frosty fringes.

A simple branch becomes the essence of an entire season.

It is the Weed's Day....Magic minutes of frosty fine art, that melt our hearts just as the sun arrives to remind us that fame is always fleeting.
Treasure your moments.

 Find out how the sky looked elsewhere around the world at www.skyley.blogspot.com

Definitions

Definition of a nice day?
It’s way too nice to be in doors. A gorgeous mid November day, with lots of sunshine is not to be missed – so I didn’t.
Definition of cute?   The little Black capped Chickadee. When Nature created this fistful of feathers, nothing was left to chance. Perky tail. Wink of an eye. Kiss of colour. Sweet call a dee dee dee. And friendly disposition. What is there possibly not to love?

Definition of a teenager?
The Bluejay. Smart mouth, and constantly in use –whether imitating clothes lines or coming in for a landing and screeching at others to “Getouttatheway, Now!” Snappy dresser, likes to draw attention to its brilliant and various shades of blue. Picky eater. “Not just any nuts thank you., and next time? Shelled would be better!"
Just this side of gluttonous. I counted 5 peanuts this guy was able to carry in his mouth – all at once. He had that dish done in less than 15 minutes! And a party dude. This guy travels with all his friends…usually about 10 of them, eating me out of house and home, while scaring off the little ones. But still, there’s something you just can’t help but like about’em.

Definition of a banker?

The Hairy Woodpecker. Wears a prim black and white suit. Constantly working, rarely seen just hanging around the local branch. Always exploring places for new deposits. Always makes a big entrance, wings extended, “Hey look at me!” type. And definitely a little bit nutsy.

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.

Linear thinking.

 In a world gone mad with shapes, sizes, whirls, whims and fancy sometimes it's nice just to keep a few things straight between us.

A few things that rely on function first, and form second. This pier jutting out into Chesapeake  Bay is functional. It's for fishing. Secondary is the fact that it's rather pleasing in a pillarish sort of way.

 Dreamers dreamed of building this. Knowing someday, some way, it would happen. A bridge over the bay would be built. And both ends of that bridge would change forever. Did they ponder the effects of their dreaming?

Should they have?

Now the artist who dreamt this chair was thinking of many things.

Where we are when we eat food.

  Where food goes.What's the natural flow of food.

How do I keep people from sitting on my visual feast.

November is a good time to think about sort of serious things

in between Hallowe`en and Christmas.

Waiting

Gun metal,
Silver,
Sodden
And Slate.
Words that describe our sky as I wait

For a day like this...

That the Magnificent Frigatebirds made even more so.

A day, like this one in Samana, Dominican Republic, when all was right with the world, and our cares and worries drifted away in a little yellow boat..

Today, I will take my place on the pelican perch, and wait 'til the weather takes a "tern" for the better.

See the world as others see it at  http://www.skyley.blogspot.com/

Fowl Weather Friends

Driving home tonight, I crossed the bridge into Quebec, and there, grazing on the golf course was a large flock of Wild Turkey. Gorgeous birds that just looked like they belonged exactly in that spot. And they do. Did.
Until they were hunted to the brink of extinction in eastern Ontario throughout the first 75 years of the 20th century
Thanks to the  conservation efforts of the Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources, and the National Wild Turkey Federation, who began to reintroduce the birds into Canada about 25 years ago, there are now about 100,000 turkeys estimated in eastern Ontario, and about 13,000 in our area. Those are good numbers and testimony to the fact that these big birds are pretty wiley.

Gotta be a turkey to beat to a turkey who's hunting a turkey!

Future Plans

This weekend I planted a lovely Christmas buffet dinner for all the big black squirrels in the yard. If by some wonderful twist of fate, they all suddenly vacate the premises, then I will have a beautiful spring show of colour instead!


Crocuses, daffodils, and tulips will hopefully burst through the dismal days of winter and announce that we have once again made it through!

I don't think it's just Canadians who make plans for future bursts of bright cheerful splashes of welcome. But as I drive down the road and see the russet, gold, and orange heralds of change I feel myself begin to hunker down. I begin to get in touch with my inner bear, and I start thinking about soups and stews and hearty meals, that will help see me through winter.




I see seed pods and immediately get into gathering mode. Not that I collect seeds for making wampum or whatnot, but I do get this undeniable urge to go roaming about the countryside, and pick lots of bittersweet and raspberry branches and winterberry with which to decorate our home.


And I begin to make lots of  lists of Things to Do.
Like cleaning and organizing stuff. Even the Junk-oh is thinking this shed needs a little work!

It's a conflicting time of year...out with the old, even though you may not be quite done with it yet, and in with the new, despite the fact that you're not quite ready for it.

Like the Christmas music they were playing at the mall today. Egad!

The Gaspé

Nature’s palette is amazing, and in the Gaspe region of Quebec, she surpasses every expectation with cobalt blue, ivory white, tan and turquoise. The fact that she has lined the cliffs of Bonaventure Island with Northern Gannets takes your breath away, as they don’t just cling to the rock, they define it.

And just when you think you’re sated with her painting, she draws a line of black around the lip, gently adds a touch of melted caramel, and forevermore, changes your idea of a kiss.

Just like she did with the rock.

You can see more photos from around the world at: http://www.skyley.blogspot.com/

Creepfest aka Hallowe'en

I feel old. NOT because my joints ache sometimes (they do), or  my hair's turning gray (it is), but because Hallowe'en has gone beyond the pale. At least, it's gone beyond my pale! As a young child in Lloydminster, I'd get dressed up in a home-made costume, usually an Indian Princess or a Fairy Princess, or a Wood Nymph Princess. My brother once went as an amazing Jolly Green Giant with green skin and leaves and stems. My sister (who's now in health care) went as a Nurse or a Doctor, and my other sister who was cute and chased by all the boys went as a Cheerleader or maybe it was Sandra Dee. The point is we reinvented ourselves every Hallowe'en into safe, funny, friendly characters. We'd go trick or treating, with our UNICEF boxes in hand, and come home with bags of junk that would be carefully sorted by type and colour. All apples  and popcorn balls went into a bowl...likely to be fed to the birds later...not because there was any fear of razor blades or poison, but because the apples were generally bruised and hours old popcorn balls were plain yuck! Candies we didn't like (like those thick and sticky molasses kissespulloutyourfillings things went into a pile for the adults, the good stuff went into a pile that was kept under the bed, where no one would find it -or remember it, til spring cleaning day, when it would get tossed as green and gross. Then of course, being in a small town, 'round about nine o'clock, all the little kids were indoors, trying to get the greasy make-up off and the teenagers would start their run around town throwing eggs and yelling and upsetting garbage cans. Pretty racey stuff!!

But NOW?? Now, thanks to all the forensics shows, the special effects shows, Martha Stewart and Steven Spielberg, Hallowe'en has gone berserk. If my kids were little there is no way I would take them out to see the decorating gone amuck show that has in recent years become the norm.They would have nightmares for weeks! I would have nightmares for weeks! So I ask, do you really need the blood, the guts, the gore??


 You do? Hmmm...guess it's tricks for you then. Wonder where Freddy and Jason are?


(Ed.Note  -these pictures were taken yesterday in Lindsay Ontario which is having a Haunt Your House contest. Winner will receive $10,000 - half of which will go to the Boys and Girls Club. Gore With Heart.  It's a good start!)

Caution. Birder in Front of You.

The Northern Harrier is one of my favourite hawks - not the least because it's so easy to identify with its white bum patch. This afternoon while I was on my way to a friend's place, this handsome fellow flew right in front of the car, and over into the field beside me. I grabbed the camera, pulled the car over to the edge of the road, got the window down, the camera turned on, and stalled the car...all in about 20 seconds. This reinforced two thoughts I've had on previous occasions:

1) I need a bumper sticker that says "Pay Attention!Birder on Board. Watch for sudden swerves and stops."

2) Maybe I shouldn't have bought a car with a manual transmission.

Now, this hawk, a gorgeous Red Tailed Hawk, swooped in front of me yesterday, while we were driving to the garbage dump (a Saturday thing to do in the country). Luckily, in this case, John was driving, so he didn't  have to try to multi-task. He just pulled over, and I got the camera out. Still, the hawk was faster than me and by the time I was ready to shoot, he was pretty far away. Oh well, at least the truck didn't stall.

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/

The Auction

"Gimme $20 now, who'll gimme $5 more? Lookit $25 now, c'mon, gimme $5 more!"

The song of the auctioneer was loud and clear last Saturday as he cranked up the volume and frenzy to get the buying mojo going. I love auctions, especially if they're held in the meeting hall at the village fairgrounds, which this one was. Oddly enough, it wasn't all that well attended, perhaps because it was a gorgeous, sunny fall day, and the long Canadian Thanksgving weekend was in full swing. Families and friends together to celebrate the harvest with every root vegetable known to man, roasted turkey and pumpkin pie.
But I digress.
Back to the auction, which was a combination of three different family estates. Lots and lots of old, rusty, battered tools; sheets that might serve as rags; plain old trash, and here and there, a treasure or two!

Like this Massey Ferguson tractor. The auctioneer brought the crowd outside to take a look at this "dandy, handy thing" and he immediately got the ball rolling.  "All right folks, $1500 bucks...let's get'er started." he said. Silence, finally broken by the old gent standing next to me who called out "$1300." That to me is a lot of money in these trying times, especially for an old tractor. But, the auctioneer didn't think so. He merely looked at him, and said to the crowd in general, "Folks, this here is a damn fine tractor, and if you want to get serious and make me a good offer - over $1500 - then talk to me inside." And off he went! Back to schlep  all the other schlock. Old gent with the pretty good offer turned to the drifting crowd and said to no one in particular, "Ah, that's just foreplay!"

I love auctions!

My daughter and I were actually there by accident - having shown up a week early for  another event to be held in the hall. But, women with wallets, and lots of stuff to wheel and deal over, what more can I say? Four (!) hours later, we were the extremely  happy owners of an art deco maple veneer breakfast hutch; two bedside tables, handmade with square head nails;  two charming antique chairs with star stamped seats; one lovely bevelled glass mirror; a hand made fruit box with lid; an original soapstone carving featuring two owls in flight;a Henry Dreyfuss chrome biscuit clock  in excellent condition and still ticking; a green glass Eagle Decanter complete with six shot glasses; a Mad Men era martini shaker with stirling silver top; two metal peacocks; and orginal RM Wells oil painting -a beautiful seascape in an ornate plaster frame.

Total price for all this? $122.32
Afternoon at the auction with my daughter? Priceless.