Cuppa Tea and Some Morning Mergansers,please

It's 6:30 am on Friday morning, all is quiet as I putter around, slowly waking up.
I love this time of day...my quiet time when I collect my thoughts, and bit by bit, get ready for the day ahead. Until, that is, I look out the window. Then I may as well phone in late right now, because the view on the river is far more interesting than anything I need to do today!
There's the beach flock of Common Mergansers out for their morning swim with Mom.
We've been watching this particular flock for the past 2 months, first as cute little fluff balls that seem to run on water, and now they're almost teenagers! Mom's still in charge though. Every day, she's got them out of the nest and on the river swimming laps up and down the beach. They practice their synchronized swim routine - heads down, under water. Go! Go! Go! Make waves, git those webs workin'! Now dive! Make no waves, leave no trace, leave'em wondering WTF, where'd they all go?
Now, up up up UP!...hey, you out front, you're too far ahead! Get back here! We're supposed to resemble a flock of geese in flight,as in s,t, u, V not p, i, d you daffy duck you!
There's a lady standing in the window up there, trying to take a picture, and your job is to help her!

Now, all together, let's do this again, from the top, 5, 6, 7, 8....

Sheesh! You boids need a lot more practice, but one thing's for sure. The lady with the little grey box in her hand is totally distracted now - completely featherbrained no doubt! She'll probably have to make a second cup of tea 'cause we made the first one go cold. Good Job!

ABAB Ad Hock Committee

In a former life I had an ad agency, and many clients. Now I work for a municipality, and it is technically speaking my one client. Part of my job is to communicate the public face of the community to investors, visitors and residents...and I like doing this. But, over the years, when it all gets to be a bit much, as it sometimes does, I turn to abab type poems and just let it out there.or, here as the case may be! Found this old nugget while cleaning up files and trying to take up less space on the network...
Warning! There are more where these came from ;>)











The Client Presentation
I gave the presentation,
I really did my best.
I hope the clients liked it.
Oh Shit!
There's mustard on my vest!

Was it there before I met them?
I'm afraid that must be so,
For we didn't nibble hotdogs.
I wonder, did it show?

While I spoke of all the things
That I could do for them
Based on past performance,
Did they see one messy fem?

When I raved about our attitude
And strategies and such,
Did they think behind their lowered lids,
This woman is too much!

We're not a graphic house, I said,
We really do much more.
Did they notice that my mustard was
The same shade as their floor?

And when they finally make a choice
Between the others or us,
Will they bother with the golden splotch
Or fuss about the muss?

I have a vested interest
In the outcome of this session
As we only get one chance, they say,
To make a first impression.

I ate Ireland.

I believe that carrots, onions and green peppers are called trinity in most cook books, and the combination forms an essential taste base that sets the tone for the entire recipe. The carrots add sweetness, the peppers a tang, and the onions keep them from fighting with one another.
That said, I am sitting here at the table, munching away, and pretty much in a state of bliss! There is absolutely nothing in the world that tastes better (in my humble opinion) than a raw carrot, quickly pulled, rinsed, and still warm from its earthy sheath. Except of course, another one or three.
The second best taste is a cucumber, twisted off the vine, peeled, salted and sliced, then straight into the mouth. My mouth. Slightly sweet, a tad tart, it is the taste of summer.

Add to this some cottage cheese, and a little pepper, and you have created Irish Sue! Enjoy!

Lilies of the woods

Driving home from Lindsay, Ontario last week, through the woods of eastern Ontario a river of red and yellow suddenly appeared on the left. One of those sights where you think, "What's that, that's, uh, that's flowers, holy crap, that's a whole huge road of lilies!Who puttemtherelet's stop!" And so, we did.

We were somewhere near Bancroft, and there was nothing else nearby, except of course, the proverbial little cottage in the woods. We pulled in to the driveway, and there was a sign, "Lilies For Sale" a slight understatement I'd say! There were literally 1000's of flowers!

My Grandfather, Dr. Arthur Brown, was a renowned Canadian horticulturalist and educator, and was also known as "The Prairie Gardener". He had a gardening show on CBC radio back in the 50's and would talk about plants and growing things and how it was all connected - an eco-warrior just slightly ahead of his time. I thought of him immediately when we saw all these lilies, as he had propagated his own variety.

Turns out the elderly Dutch couple that live in the little cottage in the woods, have been here for the past 40 years, and the husband grows lilies to sell to collectors. I couldn' t afford any of them (at least not with my not so great gardening abilities.) He had varieties set aside that were going for the north side of $200. Huh! Who knew!?

Their yard, naturally, was spectacular, and we were free to wander around engaging all five senses. The lovely wizened wife told me that as her husband had been ill this past winter, he had only managed to propagate and pot up 1000 containers for sale in the past month. Hmmm. 1000 x $200...you do the math! Unbelievable! Puts a whole new meaning to having a green thumb doesn't it?

Moon Rise

Random Moon Thoughts:
The moon is not made of cheese. It is made of pink cotton candy.

I have tried many times to recreate these colours in a bedroom and nature always does it better.

It must have been incredible to actually stand on the moon -I know, I know - understatement of the century! but still...


There's a child's poem I used to recite to my kids...part of which was.."I see the moon, and the moon sees me."













I know that I'm very very fortunate to be sitting at my dining room table, looking at the moon as I tap away on the keyboard. Can't imagine not living this close to nature anymore. I sit here, the moon rises, fish jump, waves lap on shore...I'm healed.

Manet got it right.















Goodnight moon.

Green Herons Up There

My friend Fred lives on the Ottawa River, as do we. However, his property has a lot more cedars than ours, and consequently, a lot more Green Herons than we do. In fact, the score right now is three nests at Fred's place to none at our place.
So when Fred called to say come see the Green Herons before they're completely fledged, we went with binocs and lousy camera in tow...or toe...doesn't really matter which. The photos could have been taken by toes judging by the quality. You be the judge.
First up, er, down...proof of nesting activity. Note to nest site seekers...wear a hat and keep your mouth shut. Lots of activity here, at the first of Fred's nests. Didn't see any Green Herons, but did see an empty egg shell...smooth, light green, no one home.
So we wandered across the yard, past several more cedars over hanging the water's edge, down the driveway and into the woods beyond the house. Site #2 had the same signs of life - lots of white wash, lots of empty shells on the ground.
And a million branches getting in the way of actually seeing the nest, which if you look really really carefully is the blob of twigs at about 11 o'clock. Hah! I didn't see it either until I had total birder's neck going on.
Then there was a slight movement that didn't bend with the gentle summer breeze, but went the opposite direction, and sure enough! A bird! Not just one but three of them sitting on branches near the nest...
This little Green Heron seen through binoculars has really bad hair, all spikey, and big yellow eyes, and is very very cute. The mother was lingering near by as well, so we didn't spend a lot of time looking...besides, they were at least 30' above us, and the neck thing was starting.
This picture of a Green Heron is a really great one. I can say that because I didn't take it. Tom Hughes did...kudos to Tom wherever you are! Some day I'm going to get a camera with a big honkin' zoomer on it too!

Toes to my daughter

I have always had problems with my feet, ever since I can remember and especially since I had bi-lateral bunionectomies (!) when I was just 16. I think the bunions, which are essentially extra calcium deposits, were helped along by the ubiquitous foot x-ray machines that popped up in every shoe store for awhile in the late 50's early 60's. Regardless, had the big boney bumps removed and couldn't walk properly for 2 months, and had lovely garbage bags as sox for a week or two, but I eventually heeled -er, healed - and the only residual foot issue is that they ache quite a lot, and yearn to be rubbed and massaged frequently....ahhhhhhhah hhha....

So when my daughter came home recently for a holiday, imagine how sublimely happy I was when she insisted that we go shopping for stuff...like nail polish, foot scrub, and cute ickle remover! Peddie party time!!

Amazing how polished the colours have become in the past three decades! I mean really! There was an entire array of colours, a complex rainbow of polishes, some for before, some for during, some for after. Some with sparkles, some with hints of sunlight, some with gold dusting...who knew the little piggies could have so many choices? And after much consideration, having picked a colour, that it would be so satisfying! To look down and see a ruby toed ankle-ender simply glowing! Or a brilliantly hued turquoise bouquet of tiny toes...that's something that calls for a celebration!

So here's a toes to you my clever colourful daughter for putting your foot down and refusing to let me feel defeeted!

Fun gal injections

Well, it's been raining just about every day all summer here in the woods of eastern Ontario, and now that we've become an inland rain forest, lots of strange and slightly sinister fungi are showing up.
Saffron yellow, deadly poisonous.













Amanita, don't a eata. (sorry, it's the rain that's rotting my brain!)



















Can't find this slightly floral looking one in my guide book. Not about to pick this posey.












This might be a bathtub fungus (or Sparassis crispa)...the guide says I can eat it to flavour a souffle. Ha! Over my dead body!













Oh gross! Look at that thing! I have a slight aversion to slime...especially the moving variety with little antennae attached to one end of its body!





In a previous life I would have been a gatherer. I absolutely love mushrooms, and especially ones I pick for free in the fields. Those one's I trust. The forest varieties? Them I leave for the witches, haints, and slugs.

Defining Summer ...

Some things say "Summer" more than others.
Soaking up the sun on a kayak in the middle of the river is definitely
a summer thing I long to do (just like my daughter's doing in this shot)...
especially when it's 40 below, and the wind's howling and it's the middle of January!

Daisies say "Summer" too. They're so bright and cheerful, and compliant! They're pretty and perky, and bend with the breezes, and they're not overpowering, like uh... Begonias.

I never knew 'til I planted some this summer that I'm not really all that fussy about Begonias. In fact, they're too much really! They remind me of someone's old Aunty Flo, who's a little gin fizzled, her hair's awry, her lipstick is smeared, and she's about to start crying. I'd never even given Begonia's a thought before this summer but there you have it. I prefer the pert and sassy daisy! Sort of the cheerleader of flowers. Ol' Flo is just too much of a good thing, gone overboard.


The plants I really love, which deserve the Best Plants of the Garden Award, are Hostas and Ferns. I have lots of both, and they're the Dignitaries of the Sideyard. They add culture, class, texture, and subtlety (unlike a Begonia which will never win an award for tact). They appear every year, just as they are supposed to, they perform perfectly, and they're really no trouble at all. They're diplomatic, and if they were movie stars, they would be the Cary Grants and Katherine Hepburns of the plant world, you know, movie stars of my parent's era, which had more filler and less thriller.

You Ate What?

Right now I'm reading "The Art of Eating" a collection of essays on food, and the love of it by M.F. K. Fisher. It's a wonderful book that is fun, witty, wise and interesting. And it made me think of all sorts of odd things we eat in the course of a lifetime.
In 1967, my mother, Eleanor A. Ellis, wrote "The Northern Cookbook" as the Canadian centennial project for her department within the Department of Indian and Northern Affairs. Intended for use as a text book for students across northern Canada, it is a compilation of recipes and techniques for harvesting and cooking country food aka beaver, moose, seal, ptarmigan, goose, rabbit...all sorts of fish and game. There's also recipes for breads, fruits, veggies and a whole section entitled "Pointers from Pioneers".
Mom always claimed that she had tried every single recipe that she collected in her abundant travels across the Yukon and North West Territories (now Nunavut). I have a little trouble seeing her working with this nugget for Baked Skunk: "Clean, skin, wash. Bake in oven with salt and pepper. Tastes like rabbit. (No smell). Skunk fat very good for whooping cough." However, I do know that she tried Sweet Pickled Beaver, because I was actually the one who made it. An old fur trapper named Henry Metcalfe, whom I'd befriended, once brought me a beaver. He'd skinned it, and then brought me the meat to try in this recipe. It was a very lengthy process, as the meat had to soak overnight, then it simmered in a brine for ages, and had to be skimmed every so often...bearing in mind that beavers eat trees, and taste just like...trees. Until you use this recipe that ultimately calls for roasting it with cinnamon, mustard, pickling spices, white wine, and pineapple juice.
When it's all done, you have a party and invite a lot of friends over for a potluck buffet dinner. You place the beautifully carved and presented Sweet Pickled Beaver, which now looks exactly like a roast of beef, on the table amidst all the other meats and salads and rolls and see what happens.
At our dinner party, it was totally cleaned up...nary a sliver for leftovers. And when guests asked what they'd eaten we told them....made'em feel akin to the north, and more than one was heard to say "Eat a beaver, save a tree" with a new little chuckle!
The cookbook became a northern classic, and even had a favourable write up in the NY Times. Mom died several years ago, and every now and then I get out the cookbook and hold it close.

It's not raining?

http://showyourworld.blogspot.com/
For the first time in over 5 days, it isn't raining. Even the clouds aren't sure what to do next.


Well, this cumulated fella looks like he's finally blown it...

and this nebulous dirvish is gonna kiss the moon goodbye...

and now it's officially a red sky at night...sailor's delight. Hello world, nice to see you again!

Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! Gulls on high!

I have never seen our Town Crier cry. In fact, I have only seen him smile, and chuckle, and grin, and outright laugh, right out loud! Even on Canada Day when he was jumping over puddles, dodging lightening bolts, and yelling above the thunder he was positively beaming! Proof positive that it helps to have a positive outlook if you're called to do your duty to God and the Queen in the middle of the pouring rain. Which he does. In spades. And buckets.
Happy people are a tonic. And on Canada Day, it seemed that I was surrounded by them. Makes sense I guess, as who but happy people would come out in the rain to watch the Legion honour the fallen heroes and lay wreaths and play dirges. A sombre enough opening ceremony on a sunny day, but in the rain?? Takes a person with a cheerful inner child to do that.
It didn't pour constantly mind, just enough to give the biceps and triceps a workout opening and closing the umbrella, and flipping it outside in when the wind finished blowing it inside out! Good exercise for the chipper upper lippers among us!
And as we all know, every cloud has a silver lining...and there was no exception to this rule on Canada Day. After it had downpoured for about the 10th time in ten minutes, a city Works guy said, " Well, that's all the rain we're getting for the next few hours." He said it with such authority, that I turned and said to him, "And you know this because???" To which he responded,
"I' m a Newfie". Well, that explains it! But then he pointed up to the clouds, and said "See all the gulls heading out over the river?" Which I did. He said you can tell a storm is coming by watching the gulls. If they are heading inland, there's rain on the way. The further inland they fly, the worse the storm. And, after the storm, they'll head back out over water...which is what we were watching as he explained all of this folkie wisdom. And as we looked up, the sun broke through the clouds, and the sky cleared, and all was well with Canada for the afternoon. Then the gulls flew back to land, all hell broke loose, we had to cancel the fireworks, and bow to Nature's version instead. Which was quite allright with all the cheerful people. And the gulls too - happily chowing down on popcorn and french fries instead of fish.

Has anybody seen my time? I've lost it.

Utterly amazing how fast this past month has gone, and the other hundreds preceding it! I woke up one morning this month - my birthday actually, and thought I was drowning! I was in fact, in dander and fur! Gawd...breathing is definitely all it's cracked up to be. But , I never used to have allergies, and frankly, Scarlet, I don't really give a damn. I 'm not gettin' rid of the feline,and I ain't takin any steroids or whatever it is one takes. ( I may consider buying stocks in Kleenex).
So I was going to write about that particular incident in greater detail, but then the rest of the day intruded...and took all those thoughts away with it. Then I was going to write about a trip I took to the beautiful Haliburton Highlands, in eastern Ontario. It was a business trip, but I took my time getting there, and it appeared to be "Turtles trying to cross busy highway to get the other side day" and I nearly got myself splattered across the county road trying to save this not so little dude. There are only 3 kinds of turtles in our area - snapping, mud, or painted. I think this is a female mud turtle. I think female...who else would face speeding metal and steel and whining rubber to drop a few dozen eggs in a safe place? I actually stopped and darted out in to the middle of the highway on 3 separate occaisions that lazy afternoon! These turtles were hell bent to accomplish their mission, and I, apparently had become their designated life saver! Karma points! Woo hoo!
That being said, the road was winding and taking me through places I've never even heard of, but should, to wit -Cheerful Lane!!
Maybe that's where all the turtles were headed! If so, I wanna go there too! Imagine living on Cheerful Lane! Are you allowed to feel sad on Cheerful Lane? Not for long I bet! Some little bluebird would likely come and sit on your shoulder...and fly away just before you got ready to smack him for being so bright and cheery!
Just down the road, there was another lane called "Cope Drive"...so I did just that. I coped with the death wish turtles to the best of my ability, and tried to be cheerful while I drove! I must say, that sights like this barn, deep in the ancient remnants of the Laurentian mountains, made it easy to cope.
A village near Wilno, Ontario is the first Polish settlement in North America, and one of the groups of people from that area are the Kashubs. They are master artisans and crafters and as you can see, their barns are particularly cheerful!
This drive was taking me forever -mainly because I had turned it in to a mini I need a holiday day. Stopping wherever and whenever I felt like it. Thinking thoughts that middle aged women sometimes think about, while gazing at spectacular scenery like this...The little red arrow points to the Great Blue Heron I interupted when I stopped just to breathe in the fresh hilly air and listen to the babble of the brook. Stopped because there's so many things to think about, and really, so little time. We just don't know when our time will be up. So it's important to take time in as many chunks as we can possibly grab. And it's important to let friends and family, family especially, know that time is a gift not to be wasted. Ah-choo! Kleenex please!

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!

There's something you should know.

I feel like I haven't been completely open with you, dear reader..and it's not because I don't want to be, but because when I sit down to write a little ditty, I get really focused and forget to tell you other stuff. Stuff like, uh, like, this is essentially a bird and nature blog. Aaannnddd...we have two cats.
Incredibly wonderful, funny, furry, affectionate, cats...Dawson and Tess. Since the kids moved out, they have become the welcome home committee, when's dinner greeters, can we go out 'n play guys, and time to cuddle furballs that make this house a home. They're rescued barn cats from Killaloe, and if you google Killaloe, you'll know exactly what that means!
Just thought I should get that out there, in case at some point it became an issue. One never knows where issues will come from, or when they will arise...so I'm being proactive.
They wear bells most of the time...Tess especially. Because she is a hunter. She's also very bright and has learned that when I go out and yell "NO! DROP IT" it's in her best interests to do so. Chippie runs free, and she is treated lovingly in return. As for Dawson...well, he's not wearing a black and white tuxedo, but a shaggy, orange long-haired coat, and I have actually seen a mouse run right in front of his nose...and he just looked at it and asked,"What's yer name thingee? Wanna snuggle?"
They are great pets. And now you know.

Mary's View: Dragonflies

Mary's View: Dragonflies

Up close and personal with some amazing photos that make the common uncommonly beautiful.

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!

Something Smelly This Way Comes.

You just never know who you'll end up chatting with at a dinner to honour family doctors. That's where we were last night. It's about the safest dinner in the world I've ever attended. For once in my life, I was suffering from a richness of doctors! Imagine! About 70 of them for 350 'patients', also known as dinner guests. What a feeling! Choking on a chicken bone? No probbie...poke the guy next to you, he'll fix it. Cut off your tail with the carving knife? Surgeon's next table over, two seats down! It was wonderful! And wouldn't you just know it? Not one Doctor got called!!!
So in that sense, we all got skunked.(Slang Dictionary : verb, as in,no points and nothin' happening you want to remember).
However, the woman I sat next to used to take in orphaned,abandoned,sick, and wounded wild animals. Having been to her home once, years ago, we reminisced about the raccoons that roamed the dining room that evening, searching for treats...Rocky and his pal Mustave. She said that she no longer took animals in, as they'd moved from the country to town, but one of her fondest memories was taking care of baby skunks (North American striped variety).
Note to readers! I sat next to a woman at a doctor dinner who said, " You scoop the skunk up by the scruff of the neck, stick his tail between his legs, and give it a baby bottle.Would you please pass the pickles?"
For your sake (and mine) gentle reader, I demanded clarification! A skunk will not release his disgustingly odoriferous, makes me want to puke, scent if he/she can't get the tail up above the back. So! Note to skunk skulkers, tail goes down.
Former wild animal rescue girl, now real estate agent, also said that skunks can't actually see very well - mostly shades of black and white and shadow - which is why they also are sometimes seen snuffling along the edges of things. Living things like cats or dogs, who then jump and bark or meow in dismay as a mega spritz of skunk juice hits them between the eyes. And then they (STINKY cat or dog) let their slaves (you or me) bathe them in tomato juice and club soda for the next several weeks.
Score at this point? Skunk - 1, Cat/Dog/Human - 0 (aka skunked).

Is it in Good Taste? How Apt is it?

A couple of days ago I ran across an article about aptonyms. It became my new word of the day as I learned it refers to the phenomenon of some people's names being particularly suitable to their professions. As in Dr. Dick Tapper, a urologist in Toledo, or Mrs. Shirley Loveland, a wonderful kindergarten teacher in Ottawa. Today I heard the best aptonym ever! It belongs to Mr.Dickie Arbiter...who is the Queen of England's former (ahem) press secretary. Dickie is quoted by CBC News as saying "I find what she's done extraordinary to comprehend". He is referring to Canada's Governor General attending a northern celebration in Nunavut with Inuit elders, and honouring their cultural traditions by eating a sliver of raw seal meat. (http://www.cbc.ca/canada/newfoundland-labrador/story/2009/05/27/gg-seal-snack-527.html) The British establishment is, apparently, in an uproar, thinking we Canadian's are pretty gauche, while vegetarian's world wide are going "ick". Anti-seal hunters are aghast, pro-seal hunters are happy happy, and pretty much every Canadian has formed an opinion by now.
Me?? Well, I think it's amazing that we love all things "Native" when it suits us. We can eat meat, but raw meat? uh, no. Who cares if it's done with respect for the animal that will feed a village, and has been part of the Inuit culture long before there were government regulated hunting and fishing seasons? ( I do, for one)
I also think GG Michaelle Jean is to be praised for respecting the traditions of an ancient culture and being brave (yes, I think this was a brave act on her part)to do it so publicly.
And Dickie Arbiter? Would you care for some Steak Tartare?