What I'm thinking today

Monday, 20 February 2017

Monday Moanings - February 20, 2017

It's a holiday Monday!

It's Family Day, and aren't we a stunning bunch -

Dad's family

Mom's parents

We improved with age...

1962 - Mom and her girls

1971 - one of the few photos of all of us

As you can see, I've spent some time trolling through the family photos again, stopping by memories - from the poignant to the hilarious and everything in between. This has been a lovely reminder of just how fortunate I am to have the family I do. No room for moaning today!

And our lives would be so much less without the four-legged, fur-pawed wonders who have greeted us with their big tail wags and bigger love.

Here's to each and every one of you, past and present.
We really are a stunning bunch.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for bringing me to where I am today.
Heaps of love.

Happy Family Day!

Thursday, 16 February 2017

Thursday, or Thereabouts - February 16, 2017

I'm with the Robins and the Blue Jays

It's a brilliant bitter day in the land outside my door. Just -15°C (all of 5°F!) out there first thing this morning, with a wicked wind threatening to rip my face off. Hard to believe that today I have to dress like this...

...and by Saturday, I'll be thinking more along the lines of this (IF the forecast of +12°C holds!)

Just what season are we in? Well the prognosticating groundhog in Wiarton, Ontario announced two weeks ago that it's Spring. What followed in the days since February 2, was not consistent with that pronouncement. And yet, yesterday, who did I spy in the red pines outside my kitchen windows? Not one but three robins!

I grabbed the closest camera to click off a photo. Not the greatest shot but enough to confirm the bird.

Before I could get the telephoto mounted on my camera, the three of them took off. They headed NORTH. I switched out the regular lens for the telephoto, so I'd be ready to catch them the moment they came south again. I then wasted the rest of yesterday afternoon looking out the windows, all of them around the house, scanning the trees for what I was sure would be a hasty return. Alas, I only found a black-capped chickadee and a slate-coloured junco hiding in the trees...

...but the robins' visit was the talk of the town.

I should have been writing. Though it's often said that we writers are a privileged group of folks who can be hard at work while staring out the window, I truly can't use that claim today.

No, I was looking for birds and when I wasn't doing that, I was consulting the fount of all knowledge, Dr. Google, for advice on what to feed robins who arrive when the ground is still blanketed in thick snow.

Berries are the answer. There are lots of sumac trees here and they are loaded with red berries ripe for the picking.

This guy from last year (March 25/16 - more than a month later than this week's visitors) knew about the treasures of the sumac tree.

So, maybe the robins and the groundhog know something?

After all, spring training in the Grapefruit league begins in just a week. Our Toronto Blue Jays arrived in Dunedin on Valentine's Day and will take to the mound next Saturday in Atlanta.

The boys of summer are warming up, the robins are here and the groundhog has spoken.

Winter is gone.
Winter is gone.
Winter is gone, gone, gone.

Monday, 13 February 2017

Monday Moanings - February 13, 2017

A drop in the bucket...

On the street where I live

It's an overcast -4°C (25°F) with a whopping 47cm of snow on the ground. Just a week ago there was 8cm of snow on the ground. Just Friday there was only 26cm on the ground.

I guess it's still winter.

We're halfway through the last row of firewood.
And the lock on the shed door where the hulking great snowblower is housed was frozen this morning.
And it's Monday. Again.

And I haven't got a clue what to write here today. A thousand ideas clammer for attention. A
thousand more ToDo's wave frantically (and sorry about my ineffective verb demanding an adverb - it's Monday so give me a break!).

Oh, but wait - what light through yonder window breaks?
An advert for the Maple Sugar Festival at Brooks Farms just popped up on my Facebook newsfeed.

Now there's something to lift the spirits. The folks at the farm think the sap will be running by March 4, a mere 19 days away. Sweet!

I can taste the cool sweetness of the clear sap.
I can hear the 'plink' of a drop in the bucket...

I can smell the wood fire under the blackened pots.

Pour it on, right out of the pot. Sweet!

Oh, and that frozen lock on the shed door? A three-minute heat treatment from my blow dryer put paid to that. Even an intrepid cardinal was impressed.

It's going to be a great day after all!

Enjoy!

p.s. Sophie has a question...

Thursday, 9 February 2017

Thursday, or Thereabouts - February 9, 2017

Small, Beautiful Things

I scrolled through my Facebook® feed early this morning, bleary-eyed and not really attuned to anything. I stumbled across this post originally from The Idealist page:

I've been a grumpy old sod for a while now with not a whole lot to cheer about. But this sentiment gave me a bit of a whack upside the head. Then suddenly my space filled with light. No, not a religious experience, but close to it! The sun came out! My kitchen flooded with glorious warm rays. I got up from the computer and turned to embrace the day star's return.

I had to get out there. Donning parka, toque, mitts, scarf, and boots with ice cleats, I braced myself for the frosty -10°C air. It was indeed crisp but it was also clean and, out of the wind, warm solar rays soothed my sun-starved soul. It was a small but beautiful thing. Mitts and toque stuffed in my pockets, and now with camera in hand, I trudged around and about the ice-covered snow, looking for more beautiful things.

Here's what I found on my quest:

Even just the blue of the sky is stunning.

After I'd uploaded the photos, I was curious about what other beauties I had captured this month but not fully appreciated, or at least that were worth a re-visit.

These you have seen recently:

But then there are the ones from just this past Tuesday when freezing rain pelted down. Some days I have to work to find my own sparkle from somewhere other than the sky.

I'm happy to say that our puffin is looking much less burdened today:

And a steaming cappuccino first thing in the morning is a beautiful thing.

Whatever the day may bring,

may you find enough small beautiful things to nourish you, heart and soul.

Monday, 6 February 2017

Monday Moanings - February 6, 2017

Oh look, it's snowing!

The view outside my windows this morning was like peering into a snow globe. Choreographed by the wind, big fat swirls of white swayed across the yard, sometimes so thick I could not see across the street. The snowflakes were the only things enjoying the dance. I was not - not even close. The only steps my feet took were to stomp out a protest beat. And for our delectation, tomorrow's forecast is for freezing rain, rain, and more snow.

A mere two months ago I welcomed the exquisite white crystals from the sky with joy and wonder. I delighted in their accumulation. I swayed in delight, enchanted by the great white tapestry outside my door; all the colours of the rainbow woven together into one brilliant white exposition of form and texture. I was thrilled by every winter weather watch and warning that came along.

That was then. This is now. This is February in southern Ontario where the white stuff is so yesterday's news; neither fresh nor inspiring. SSDD - Same Snow, Different Day, or words to that effect. It's not just boring, it's dispiriting. That prognosticating varmint declared winter over just four days ago but clearly, the weather gods did not get the memo.

Ah, but even these February lamentations are nothing new, at least for me. I can depend on their annual visit. Better yet, I know I can bank on their annual departure.

This is one of those days when I can hear my Dad the weatherman, telling me and all his radio listeners how a good thick blanket of snow is good news for the coming Spring; how it insulates the ground from the bitter cold and prevents the frost from going so deep as to kill off the dormant seeds; how it will in time bathe the good earth in abundant yet gentle moisture that is so critical for new growth.

I hear ya, Dad. Thanks for the reminder.

The light is returning and underneath all that white, the green lies waiting for re-birth.

Thursday, 2 February 2017

Thursday, or Thereabouts - February 2, 2017

Of Ground Hogs and Candles

It's Ground Hog Day in these parts today. And if you are tired of winter, Wiarton Willie had good news for you this morning. The Ontario rodent did not see his shadow which means according to the folklore, that winter is pretty much over.

Nova Scotia's Shubenacadie Sam agreed. Their western siblings reportedly held the opposing view, as their dark shadows stretched out across the snow.

Though one of the favoured east-enders of the nation, I won't be putting away any of my "Nanook of the North" equipment. For the next two months my tuque, mitts, scarves, heavy boots, down jacket and shovel will remain in place by the door. Tonight's forecast of gusting winds and temperatures of -12°C (10°F), along with an extreme cold alert gives good reason for that.

Today is also Candlemas Day, a Christian festival of light. In some traditions, candles are blessed, then lit and processed through the church all in commemoration of the presentation of the infant Jesus in the temple.

It's quite likely that the early church chose February 2 in order to counter the ancient Celtic feast of Imbolc. Back in old England and Ireland, the spring lambs were born around this date thus bringing back the flow of ewe's milk or "Imbolc" (other spellings: Imbolg, Oimelc, and Imelg).

The ancients celebrated with candles, lots and lots of candles, to welcome the return of the light to their days, to welcome the first signs of Spring in their flocks.

I prefer candles over ground hogs. They are so much easier to keep and quietly hold their dance until I bring flame to wick. They give warmth and comfort without fur balls or poop. They give light and cheer to heart and home. But once lit, candles demand our attention - left to their own devices, they can go wild.

Bitter winds, cold and snow are not over, but as sure as the sun, the moon and the tides, the light is returning. In the forty days since Christmas (yes, it has been that long), our days have lengthened by sixty-one minutes to 9 hours:57 minutes. By the end of this month, daylight hours will have stretched to a full 11 hours and 10 minutes.

It's time to peruse the garden shops...