On to Plan B

We had a couple of warm, summer-like days and I cajoled a helper to set up the tent on the deck and we arranged canvas curtains and furniture here and there to create my small outdoor heaven.

For another few days, I luxuriated in that little nest. I curled up with my book and tuned out the soft voices of the people next door, who were in fact, no more than six feet away but the curtains hid them from view.

Then we had a few days of heavy rain and I had to slog out to the deck with my broom to push the water off the sagging tent.

One night the rain turned to heavy, wet snow and that was the end of my cozy little nook. The metal roof supports for the tent bent into unredeemable shapes and everything crashed to the floor.

It’s time for plan B, whatever that will be. One way or the other, I will figure out a way to have a seemingly private sitting area outside.

It's Spring--Sort of

We look forward to spring around these parts but in reality it really never comes.

What we really have is interim weather; that’s the best word for it. It's that teasing, seesaw period when sometimes we shed the parka and don the lighter jacket and next day, boots and parka are back in use to battle the unexpected snowfall.The day after that there's a thaw and it's sweater weather.

We might still be mumbling about the injustice of a long winter before we finally notice we are into shorts and tee shirts and then we complain about the heat.

In the fall we make up for the non-existent spring; we really do have this season and the leaves are absolutely breathtaking.

While I’m in this weather mood, I must mention my morning walks are now taking place outside on the nearby nature trails. Trust me on this—it’s much easier to slog around an indoor track rather than try the outdoor stuff. Granted it’s much more fun outdoors but there are those roller coaster inclines everywhere and the calf muscles are pleading for mercy.


The good part is that when I return home I feel so pleased and virtuous for a good ten minutes and there's always a chance someone might notice my absolutely fabulous steel-like leg muscles.

Hail to Spring (or whatever it is that we have).

The Annual Ritual

Last week one of my morning walks had a touch of drama.

As I wound my way on the trail around the evil-looking swampy pond I heard the Canada Geese screeching loudly and angrily. It sounded like a public meeting on same sex marriage.

Judging by their behavior I was the object of their anger but what on earth had I done? I had walked this route before and they never cared.

I stood there puzzled by the commotion. Before I could turn around, close behind me I heard angry bird-honking followed by ominously close flapping of wings and two Geese sailed over my head close enough to ruffle my hair. They landed several feet in front of me and did their version of angry fist-shaking. I nervously skirted past them and ran home.

I figured it must be mating season and at least in this bird world, all signs of normalcy are off. They are cranky, cranky critters and it’s best to avoid them and any area that might harbor a nest.

This morning I felt brave so, camera in hand,I decided to recreate the scene for my blog and set off to the evil pond to scout out a couple of meanies.

Well, all I can say is the mating ritual must be going very well indeed because the Geese are all like pussycats today. Happy, obliging, and just plain boring. Even the swamp looked downright peaceable.
“Hey birds,” I snarled. “Let’s have some nasty action.” Purr, purr.

This rotten little beast lead the way along the path and wouldn’t have minded if I pelted him with rocks and no I didn’t.

I checked out the swampy pond and same thing. “Oh hi, girl. Did you come to take our pictures?”

Wait until next year. Or does mating season happen more than once in the summer? I’ll be ready.

Paradise In The Making

I'm sure you look at these photos and you wonder, “Is this part of a an army barracks? And what’s with the narrow deck?”

Well, I’m glad you asked. This is a blank canvas that I’m preparing to turn it into a tiny, beautiful masterpiece.

It's my intention to turn this little patch of heaven into an attractive back yard using a minimum of cash outlay and maximum labor from any obliging children who drop by.

I moved into this place six months ago, leaving behind tall trees,lily pond, beautiful mature plants and a gorgeous pool. The other house welcomed a full complement of mourning doves, cardinals, naughty blue jays and various orioles, robins, not to mention skunks and squirrels.

Now I live in a temporarily vast wasteland with few birds and many rabbits. It was hard to leave the other house but it was time for me to downsize.

I love a challenge and this place offers many of them. Off the kitchen is this narrow wood deck and it faces the deck and kitchen door of the house next door. See? This is a challenge.

I am determined to come up with a clever, attractive way for us to come out of our respective kitchens with complete privacy. I just want to walk out and not see another face from across the way and I’m sure they feel the same.

Incidentally, the top picture was taken before I moved in and that giant saucer is gone.

My little bird feeder hanging from the eaves is slowly attracting sparrows and grackles and eventually there will be more feeders and I will plant bird and butterfly -attracting bushes.

Stay tuned.

Words To Live By

I am easily affected by words; simple innocent words that are so harsh to my ear that I break out in mental hives. Apparently there are people who can still run their lives without cracking when a word corrupts their space and I wish I knew how they do it.

In my convoluted little world a promising relationship can be destroyed if Adonis smacks his lips over a hot dog and says, “Great eats.”
Great. Eats. Couldn’t he just say, “That was good?” Farewell Adonis.

The only way to keep my life relatively free of grating word-isms was to marry a journalist who would never, ever use those hateful things on me and who had his own list of hateful expressions.

“I feel badly”, was one that turned that soft- spoken man into a raving lunatic. He’d make a groping motion with his arms and snort, “This is how you feel badly. If you’re discussing your feelings then you feel bad.”

When the kids started swearing, he insisted that the transgressor explain in detail what the word meant so at least the child was using the term correctly. We were all surprised to learn the meaning of “schmuck.”

Now the next is a regional thing or perhaps it was because I come from English parentage and we lived in a city but the noon meal is lunch, not dinner. And, the food served after an evening of entertaining friends in our home is not lunch but refreshments. Supper is a ten o’clock extravaganza after the theater, and come to think of it, I’ve never had the pleasure. Of the supper, not the theater.

The kids once came upon a sign they quoted to me for years, knowing it affected me like a nail on a blackboard-- “Tasty Eats Galore,” quickly followed by store signs such as “Big Gulp” or “Big Slurp.”

“For free.” What is wrong with the word “free”? Why stretch it out with that unnecessary addition?

“No problem.” Who said anything was a problem in the first place?”

"He goes," instead of, "He said." This one has probably made it into the records as valid but not with me.

In Canada we own a wonderful, literate broadcasting system, CBC. The only time I want to throw myself on the ground and sob is when someone being interviewed repeatedly says, “You know”. Damned if I do know and I was counting on that person to tell me what I am supposed to know.

Sheesh.

the Critters in My Life

I am fond of Billy Bass. So fond in fact that I have two of them, one for general purpose and another that sings Christmas songs. I love the way Billy flings his head to the side while he sings and the way his tail smacks away in time to the music.

We were not so compatible last week though.

I was not well and spent a lot of time lying on the couch feeling sorry for myself and Billy took to doing something completely unnecessary and unlike him.

He didn’t wait for me to stagger across the room and turn on the switch with my pale hand. No, indeed. He just burst into song whenever he felt like it.

Imagine you are lying there mumbling, “why me god?” and across the room this nasty little scaled creature is warbling, “Don’t worry, be happy.”

If I had been in a saner frame of mind I would have thought to remove the batteries but instead I got up and banished him around the corner.

He took this as a sign of encouragement and warbled happily about every ten minutes until finally he ended up underneath the pile of pillows and he isn’t coming out until I say so.

We had an unexpected storm on the weekend with heavy wet snow and driving wind. Poor Furlop didn’t fare so well outside.
He looked as though he was the loser in a snowball fight with real rabbits.
Today the snow is melting and he’s back to looking dazed but perky.