Spring Has To Be Somewhere Around Here

The feeder is flocked with shivering birds I haven't seen all winter ...the ones that look like wild canaries and I always forget their name when they first arrive ... goldfinches ... Americans.

The sun is shining and the days are much longer ...

The snow is decaying and ugly and the odd mound of dog poop can be seen ...

I am beginning to spruce up the house in anticipation of a thorough spring cleaning.

I have started to dig my snow tires out from under a huge pile of snow and have scheduled my spring visit to Grant's Garage to have my tires installed, my oil changed and my suspension checked.

I am sorting clothes first by season and then into several piles and boxes ... ones for each season that I will probably wear ... ones I can't bear to get rid of even if I haven't worn then for several years ...  ones I will definitely give to the Sally Ann ... and ones that are fit only for the garbage bin.

But winter is hanging on up here with a cruel and frigid grip.  I washed my down parka the day before yesterday and had to pull it out to wear yesterday ... along with long underwear, winter boots, ice grippers, a hat and mitts.


And last night the air was so clear that CBC almost got lost in the cacophony of other voices.


My hydro bill corroborated the fact that this winter has been harder than the past couple of years, especially in the last two months ... my bill was $150 higher than last year's bill for this period ... Last year I turned off my heat line to the lake in March.  This year I wouldn't even think of it. And I am not one of the Ontarians being expected by her premier to freeze in the dark.

But it really must be spring ... after all it's almost April and an election is on the horizon.  Won't someone please tell the weatherman? 

By the way, check out CBC's questionnaire on your political position (the Compass)  ...I was surprised by a couple of things: first that the political spectrum in Canada is not a line running from left to right as it is elsewhere.  Instead there is one party to the distinct right and all the rest are clustered to the left of centre with the Liberals just a tad closer to centre.  Maybe Canadians should stand up and shout that a coalition would indeed be a great idea especially since that is obviously what Harper fears most and since over half the population votes for those left of centre parties anyway. The second surprise was that my responses coincided most often, not with the NDP or Liberals as I had expected but with the Bloc!  Of course those three parties and the Greens share a great many viewpoints, so it really was a toss-up. Except I have never even considered voting for the Bloc so I was surprised.

I have tried on all my slacks and now I am going back to my painting.  Have you any idea how many coats are required for vibrant colours? Enjoy the sunshine, but bundle up.

Spring is here ...

Yesterday I began one of my favourite warm weather weekend occupations ... garage saling.  A good friend tells me I am crazy not to want more money ... not to want great luxury when I travel or entertain myself ... can't believe that I honestly have more fun my way. 

I spent a lovely sociable morning starting with a garage sale where I bought nothing but chatted about inconsequential things like the warmth of the day. 

Then I spent $2.50 across the road where I bought four tiny floral boxes for my lavender crop, a lovely deep turquoise glass bottle for a single flower for my bathroom, and a sky blue bottle painted in a nautical theme in which to serve water with outdoor meals.  They threw in a small brass milk jug for my collection.  All for $2.50! 

Next I moseyed on down to the Anglican Church sale where I bought a gardening knife, a DVD and a book by a local author for  $1.50.  There I had a long chat with the old gentleman at the cash about something I had read about using garage sale serrated knives for cutting roots and dividing plants.  He told me that the same knife I had just bought sold for over $20 when it was called a gardening knife. 

Outside, a very elderly lady was selling house plants and perennials and enthusiastically dispensing free gardening advice with every purchase. I bought a healthy ivy plant for $6 and learned that old fashioned hairpins are excellent for encouraging plants to send their roots into the soil. 

Imagine!  A whole morning filled with happiness and treasures for $10!


On the gardening front ... my zen garden is becoming more zany than zen ... but Kenya lies on the hilltop each evening for hours contemplating the solar lights that change colour ... and I hope to spend a lot of time reading, writing and reflecting ... as I drink wine in the evenings ... once the black flies die off.

ee cummings did not share his home with either dogs or kids ...

... Now I have no proof of that statement ... but I can surmise.  I do know that his first wife left him after nine months taking his only child, a daughter, away with her and refused to honour his 3 months per year custody rights; that he only got to know her when she was in her twenties, and not likely to play in mud luscious puddles on puddlicious  afternoons. 

I love his poem, but the reality for a dog owner living in the country is that all that delightful mud comes in on thick winter coats and paws and becomes, along with the shedding puffy masses of undercoat, sand, pine needles, and, in my case cedar sawdust from the latest construction work.  After a few hours of sweeping, mopping, and bending, my floors are a little cleaner but my back feels as if it might break.   I wish spring were over.

It is my least favourite season out here at the lake.  It is the dirtiest season.  The lake is unsafe so Kenya is unhappily restrained, and I am getting tired of always exercising her on-leash. Summer brings  its own problems ... black flies, mosquitoes, and wet dog odours, but I can swim and kayak and enjoy the garden and deck, so those seem less formidable. Fall is the most beautiful time up here, followed closely by winter, despite the weather.

So ... while everyone happily quotes ee cummings in springtime, I say, bring on summer ... the sooner the better.

Ice Floe Rescue Attempt

"Your goal should be out of reach, but not out of sight."

This advice may be wonderful for most enterprises, and certainly for the Olympic rowers urged on by it, but my basic premise has always been, "Don't risk falling into the waters of  a partially frozen lake to save a dog.  Kenya is younger and more agile, and her body weight of 80 pounds or so is distributed over four legs.  She will save herself.  You, on the other hand, will drown or die of hypothermia."

Yesterday, the dog I thought was smart enough to recognize the dangers inherent in the shifting cracking ice of Pike Lake decided to investigate to see if she could get closer to all the spring walkers enjoying the sunshine on the other side of the lake, and I broke my own rule.

I headed down to the shoreline with small pieces of cedar planking which I placed on the ice to allow me to get closer to her.  I offered a Dentibone, thinking she might just be refusing to come in.  She ignored the treat.

I tried going just a step or two closer.  The ice began to crack and split apart beneath me.   When the ice began to crumble away with every attempt to save myself,  I felt the same terror Kenya must be feeling each time she tried to get back onto a solid footing. 

Finally I felt solid ice beneath me, and turned back to shore. 

When she saw me retreating, Kenya keened, a long drawn out plea for help.


I hurried a little faster.

By the time I returned with two sleds that I thought I would shoot over to her, she was pacing in the freezing slush.  Her eyes never left me as I exhorted her to come NOW! FAST! she could do it.  But after a few more half  hearted attempts to get onto ice that would support her weight, she stayed where she was.

I realized the silliness of my plan at about the same instant she did.  She looked over toward the floating dock now mired in ice and snow.  And I shouted again, "C'mon, Girl.  You can do it!" 

She dashed across the moving ice floes to the dock and in a frenzy of relief spun around in circles on it before making the last run to shore to meet me.

We headed up to the warmth of the house where I dried her paws and she settled in before the fire with her dentibone.  I lay down beside her, buried my face in her ruff, breathed in fresh air and sunshine, and exhaled relief.

Yes, I Can ...

New Look, Sugar, Cleaning and Taxes ... It Must Be Spring

Yesterday I emerged from the shower, took a good look at my hair, and decided to lop off a bunch.  It has taken me nearly seventy years to get up the courage to cut my own hair.  I wonder why it took so long to realize that hair grows back in.  Maybe it has something to do with painting funky furniture and realizing that you can always sand a mistake back and do it again.  Or maybe it is realizing that you never know what you can do until you try it.  Or maybe I'm just cheap.  Anyway I no longer look like an elderly native man ... more like Topsy.

This is Erin's  first attempt to make maple syrup too.  She and Rodger are tapping over thirty trees and producing wonderful maple syrup.  Saturday we feasted on pancakes, homemade sausage patties made with lean local organic beef, salads, champagne and orange juice.  I donated the smoked duck and dim sum I had purchased at T&T the day before, but my experiment with Asian groceries turned out to have been a mistake. 

Before I left home, I tried steaming the first two dim sum dumplings, expecting to discover that they would have little treasures of tasty minced pork hidden inside.  No. Steaming produced a gelatinous mess with nothing at the heart of the mushy globs and strands.  I decided to try baking the remaining four at 350 for 30 minutes.  This produced buns but not nice fluffy ones.  More like little golden rocks.

The duck was fatty and tasted a little like the unpleasant smell I associate with Asian grocery stores.  Now I know how the odour is produced ... by smoking.   I have a feeling that you either develop a taste for Chinese smoked duck or you hate it forever.  I fear I belong to the latter category, but at least now I know that the unpleasant smell has nothing to do with dirt or a nasty ingredient ... just with a smoking process that uses tea and rice.  I prefer my duck crisp and orange flavoured, my tea piping hot, nicely steeped, and in a cup, and my rice in a bowl or on a plate.

The place overflowed with dogs ... Erin's two, Rodger's one, a strange little wiry creature that reminded me of a small wart hog, and a Golden Doodle named Marshall.  (There seemed to be more but I didn't get to know all of them because most stayed outside.)  When Kenya first saw Marshall she must have thought that it was Remi with a brushcut, and she chased him around the kitchen with her nose up his bum.  Once she satisfied herself that this was a different Doodle, she fell in love, and spent the rest of  her time with him. 

Today I think I  will begin my spring cleaning with my bedroom.  Right now it looks like a repository for furniture I wanted to work on this winter.  I want to restore its tranquility.  (I haven't decided yet where I will store the chairs.)   The second thing I am going to do is get the closet set up properly.  I am tired of rods that collapse under the weight of clothing every few days.  I will install large hooks on one side and a pair of rods on the other.  I also have some patching and touch-up painting to do because of the first winter's problem with the roof.

Or maybe I will clear the dining room table and tackle the taxes.  I have a feeling that will be a week-long exercise in frustration and angst.

Or maybe I will treat the two projects as on-going tasks that provide relief from one another.

The more I think about it the more I wish I could just start the funky high chair!  The responsible side of me insists, though, that has to be my treat for getting the onerous jobs done first.

Enjoy the rest of your weekend, and have a good week.

A Morning Fresh with Possibility

I feel good this mid-May morning!

Everywhere the trilliums are glistening with dew, the birds are making the woods a noisy busy place, and one of my plants has burst forth with a flower that is all seed pod. A Canada goose is almost drowning out the birdsong with his honking. My day's plan is to continue to transplant day lilies, and get my knees all muddy again. Calvin says that "if your knees aren't green by the end of the day, you ought to seriously re-examine your life."

Yesterday I had my car in for its spring tune-up. It cost $700 but Grant, the local mechanic, told me that it is a solid little car and I should get 300,000 kilometres out of it. It is 10 ½ years old and has just over half that kilometrage, so the Corolla, Kenya and I may all just make it to the end of my ten years here at the lake.

I got the names of qualified roofers from James up in Kaz and will call them today. While I was there I noticed that the baby finger on James' left hand looked just like mine. I asked him about it and discovered that he'd had his set two years ago at the Hull Hospital. I wonder if the orthopaedic surgeons at that hospital think baby fingers looks better that way!

Last night I fell asleep listening to the rain on the tin roof and my bed became Avonlea. I was certainly glad that watching Anne of Green Gables had been a stronger influence than watching The Last King of Scotland. It was much calmer spending the night in Avonlea than it would have been in Idi Amin's Uganda. 300,000 people were slaughtered during his rule. The movie made clear that his political opposition was wiped out, but when I was in Uganda learning to whitewater kayak, my friend Tim told me that he got rid of anyone who was educated because he feared them. Tim lost his school teacher father during that period.

Such terrible things have happened in Africa.

But some of the most heart rending and uplifting stories also originate there.

Yesterday Marie sent me a letter about a young girl, and asked if Layla's Gala money might be able to help her. Layla immediately responded and said that the $1500 raised at the Gala and whatever money is raised at Philemon's fashion show (likely another $400) may be used to help Linda.

I found a Daisy photo of a girl called Linda. I wonder if she is the same Linda.

Here is Marie's letter, and Linda's story:

I saw a girl today who I think some of the funds for Daisy might help. She is a student at Mukumu Girls High School. When she was in primary school she fell while carrying water and broke her Right lower leg. Her grandmother refused to take her to the hospital -saying she was just trying to get out of going toschool. When she finally did get treatment she had osteomylitis in the leg. She spent four years (yes 4) at Kakamega General Hospital because her family said she was dead and refused to consider taking her home. A Social Worker at the hospital finally helped her go to Daisy to complete her primary education.

She passed well and was taken at Mukumu. She has been taken today as a CHES student (they had extra money)but she has a very badly contracted leg and must use crutches to get around.

Because of the infection in the bone she has a huge open wound on her shin from knee to ankle which must hurt like hell.

Now comes the good part. She is number one in a class of 386. To top it off she is a cheerful smiling girl who helps others by encouraging them when they get down! I would like to send her to Kijabe Hospital near Nairobi - they are a mission hospital specializing in orthopedics and they might be able to help her. They have a staff of doctors from the USA and other countries who come for short periods. They are not that expensive but we have no source of money for this kind of thing. Do you think some of the Daisy money could go for this? I can't think of a more deserving person to spend it on.

Just a small endnote:

Kakamega Hospital is a forbidding grey building with minimal facilities. Outside its gates the coffin makers line the road. It is a place in which to die - a terrible place for a young girl to spend 4 years.

The Daisy Centre is a cheerful boarding school for disabled children and AIDS orphans in Kakamega.

CHES is a Canadian organization which sends very bright poor girls to high school in a couple of places. They have an office in Kakamega and another in Tanzania. They provide all fees, boarding costs, school uniforms and books for the girls. It is not easy to get acceptance by CHES. They are deluged with requests at the beginning of each school year. Only the very best candidates can be accepted and provided with the four years of high school education. If they are successful they are then given ACCES scholarships to continue their education.

Signs of Spring

The signs are everywhere. The Mergansers and the Blue Heron have returned to the lake even though there is still almost no open water for fishing. There are large numbers of enormous crows in the woods near Mountain Road. Hawks glide and float above the mountain. The smaller birds are mating with little decorum.

A deer came down out of the woods when Kenya and I were walking past Rose Marie's house.

There isn't much snow left in the woods now.

The sound of water rushing down the mountain to the lake is one of the more vocal signs. Pike Lake Road responds to the water by crumbling away. I just learned that the municipality will not be building a by-pass. Too bad. It would have been nice to see the end of the logging trucks that have done so much damage to the road this year, and the beginning of a path by the lake that would be restricted to foot traffic.



So far things here are still grey and dun coloured, but there is the odd bit of green showing up where it is fed by the running water, and on the verges of Suncrest where I walk Wilbur, I saw flashes of bright yellow yesterday.

But the best signs of spring for me are elusive, intangible, ephemeral.

The butterflies romp in the air moving too quickly for me to catch them with the camera. Monarchs ... others sporting muddier oranges ... and larger ones with black wings fringed by white edges.

Remi does try to catch them. He bounces at the butterflies, leaps on their shadows, and runs after leaves scattering in the wind. Occasionally he catches a leaf and figures he has won the battle of the butterflies.

He loves the puddles, paddling through them, and peeing in them.

I love the energy I am seeing emerge a little more every day, and love that my own energy levels rise to meet it.