Winter Is Still Pretty

It's early days so we still think the snow is pretty

And it is when you're indoors. Okay, I did open the door to get this shot.

Our first hoar frost. I always wanted to say that.

This is how Harry celebrates winter; sleeping on the artificial village pretty well makes his day. Mine, not so much.

Four Months and Counting Until Gardening Time

The cats are dying to get out on the deck and try out the snow but I suspect I'd have to wade out to bring them back inside.
Sorry fellas.
Here we are with summer and winter shots of the deck. The huge summer umbrella is neatly wrapped until it can find a reason to unfurl, like a summer day.

I Remember Summer

A giant finger poked a hole in the heavens and the stuffing is falling out. It's snowing hard.

This is a perfect time to look over the garden pictures from last summer.

The outside of my house resembles an army barracks. See for yourself.

I love puzzles and this was just one more to solve--how to make the place look more like, well, a house.

If I had a substantial amount of money then I could alter its appearance. On the other hand if I had a substantial amount of money I probably wouldn't have bought the place At all.

Anyway.

I was looking for the perfect contrast pictures--you now the kind. Perfect pristine lawn, no weeds, wheel barrow out of sight, no sign of litter boxes still drying in the sun, that sort of thing.

Apparently that kind of picture doesn't exist in my world so here we are three years later.
First, the house in its number-under-the-chin beginnings.

Here is the same vantage point taken last summer.




The barracks look is still there but the eye is diverted from the ugly sight.

Just think what I could have accomplished if I'd joined the army.

Tis The Season Of Kitschiness

I like over-the-top Christmas decorating and you can bet the farm I'm not a pop- the- tree- open- like- an- umbrella kind of person.

My tree is a zillion years old and probably made of the same stuff toilet brushes are made of but we remain faithful every year.

The Santas guard the stairs and as I wander down in the morning the hem of my robe tumbles them to the bottom. Consider that morning exercise, re-positioning them.

The cats take charge of re-arranging the village. They also like to chew the artificial snow although they are beginning to see that it isn't that flavorful.
This is the village before the daily re-arranging.

Horse is always a good sport although the season is lost on him. Personally I think he prefers St. Pat's Day.
Anyway, for those of us there who belong to the school of too much, hang together people; the pop-up people are slowly encroaching on our territory.

A Canadian / Thai Open House

Steve and Aw have been in their apartment for a month now and already they have more friends than the rest of us so it seemed right to have an Open House to commemorate the new place and Christmas.

Aw is a Buddhist and Christmas celebrations are a new concept to her. However Thais are extremely sociable and family-oriented and she quickly figured it all out
These people string up colored lights,chop down a tree to use for a week, run around looking worried while they shop and eat huge amounts of food, then so be it.

She opted for serving what she knows and it was a treat for all of us. I peeked in the kitchen and her fingers were flying.

The big round coffee table was loaded with delicacies we couldn't name but were indescribably good and when the room thinned out she called us to sample a multi-course dinner she had miraculously assembled.

This is the presentation before we demolished it. A hint of fresh ginger here, there a chili paste that waters your eyes. Not everything was spicy; just a nice sampling of mild and pungent.
Watching her cut vegetables is an art in itself; you swear it can't be done but she deftly slices away and a mound of exquisitely sliced green onions and red peppers appear.


Aw, you've enriched our lives--and our palates.

The first Storm

Usually the first major snowstorm of the winter leaves everything looking sparkling and hopeful.

Not this time.This time, it's cold and bleak. A good day to read Dickens.

It does look a little better from the front window.



But we know we will get get some of those Christmas card perfect fat snowflakes before winter is done.

FROST BITE

I pretzel-ed over a neighbors' fence to catch this view of the berries.

Next day, after a dusting of cold and snow, the berries turned to pale orange.

I guess the birds won't mind about the color. It's probably their version of
MandM's.

My Hero the Hibiscus

My Hibiscus is a sweet guy--he blooms mightily during the summer on the back deck. No surprise there; we'd be surprised if he didn't.

The good part is that when I lug him into the kitchen for the winter he gets into high gear and blooms his heart out all winter long.
Now is that cooperative or what?
He's pushed out of the way so Max can perch on the garbage pail and catch any outside action while Harry supervises from below.

I mean, nice dry leaves will be rustling past and then it's cat frenzy time.
We have to find different amusement when the weather turns bleak.
their all-time favorite is to watch the wrapping around the barbecue tear loose in a windstorm.
We get our jollies anyway we can during the winter.

A Market Morning

I had an urge to buy up a large quantity of squash and freeze the stuff for the winter and that was enough excuse to gather up willing kinfolk and head to the fabulous open air market.

We weren't in the mood for elk, buffalo or duck so we passed on this tantalizing stand.

They do have hot dogs in Thailand and by Aw's description the sausage is kielbasa-size. She declared this to be a fine imitation.

Still, she is tiny so she thought perhaps she should have some help.

Next time we'll try the elk.

the Last Hurrah

How did we manage for so long without the tall grasses? They're as beautiful after the snow comes as in the fullness of summer.


Some petunias are still blooming and the dry leaves are trying to tell them it's time to put out the lights for another season.

Not bad For Late October

The roses continue to charm and the changing leaves in the background are pleasing.


This little Maple was chopped down before my time and somehow staggered back for an encore. He tried so hard he can stay forever and he looks pretty good right now.

Fall Is Hanging In A bit Longer

The petunia blooms have packed it in it in but the healthy foliage remains.


The geraniums under the window have produced brilliantly all summer and this is their last hurrah.


I share this patch of lawn with my next-door neighbors who planted the Maple tree when they moved in and they love it. Me, not so much. Strange because I love trees.
It does its best with fall colors but comes last compared to its peers. it's like that one bit of a fireworks display that starts off well and then weakly fizzles out.




I'd love to get consensus to remove all the lawn and plant tall grasses interspersed with mounds of stones.

I'm pretty sure the tree would remain.

So What Is Family For?

Steve has been wandering around for months with a huge hole in his head. Well, actually it's a cavity but it was big.

"you'll get a brain abscess and die," warned his sister.
"You're killing me", I lamented in motherly fashion.
"Stevie, get it fixed," cautioned his loving Aw.

Finally Mother Nature prevailed; his face swelled and there was pain, lots of pain.



Aw and I drove him to the dentist office at eight o'clock this morning. Eight. He'll pay for that, yes he will.

Just think how you'd feel if you glanced at your seat companion and this is what you saw. Before daylight, let alone breakfast.



While he was down the hall, Aw and I did catch up with the fashions in Elle magazine, enough to know there are several models who will soon break their necks if they try wearing those silly four-inch-heel snow boots in Ontario.

The dentist removed the tooth painlessly (it had broken in two) and now Steve is ready to face the world like a real person without a hole in his head.

And how was your morning?

Swamp Walking

I hiked through an extrememly well bred swamp recently. Anyway, according to the sign I was swamp-walking.

I loved the tree shapes.





Around where I live this is what we call a swamp-- boggy, get-your-feet-wet; now that's a swamp.

The Last Of....

This is the last of the tall bush roses. They are around thirteen years old and tough as an old boot. Get too close to the thorns and you can count on spending the next half hour ripping your clothing to shreds while making your escape.

the kale is stepping up to the plate now, looking strong and colorful.

This is the last of the harvest. It's sad to see the last of the fresh tomatoes. It's never the same getting them from the supermarket.

Books and More Books

I introduced my kids to the library system at an early age and they have had a love affair with books ever since.

In our early days in Richmond Hill, the library was one large room in the old town hall. The prim librarian said that four-year old Scott couldn't have his own card until he could write his name. Yes, printing would do. Back at home,he quickly nailed this new skill, thus satisfactorily dealing with his first taste of bureaucracy.

When I recently stayed for a week at my son Mike's house minding the kids, his books (and Lorrie's) kept me company while I read myself to sleep.

Here's the view from one side of the bed.


And the other


And here's the overflow.



All serious readers also have a stash in the bathroom, but I figure you get the idea without the photo.

A view From the Other Side of Town

I was across town tending the grandkids and every morning from the back deck, I got amazing views of the sunrise




The trees were at their brilliant best. There's always that small envelope of time before the winds and rain wash the beauty away for another year.





I hate to see summer slip away but the fall colors do help ease the angst.