There is something Friday, Oct 6 2017 

curiously satisfying about mowing a paddock (we are hoping to get a new horse in the near future — and an unmowed paddock is a seriously bad idea).  Can’t really say what, but it is.  Very peaceful  It reminds me that now — some time on! — I realise how truly at peace with himself and his world one of my early … mentors, to use a modern word he wouldn’t have recognised, was.


Besides, it is a beautiful fall day — so here are a few pictures to enjoy!





We are the land Monday, Sep 4 2017 


We are the land…

We are the farmers and the woodsmen

The fishermen and the ranchers

We are the gals in old pickups

Coming to town for feed for their animals

The men on the town truck

Mending the road

The Wichita Lineman that someone wrote a song about

We are the farmer with his tractor coming home at the end of a day

The rancher, checking his stock before a coming storm

The fisherman, looking for the harbor lights in the evening

Woodsmoke on an autumn wind

A light in the window

The land is not ours –

Oh the deed down at the courthouse may say so

But the land is not ours

We keep faith with our forefathers

And we care for the land for our children

And our children’s children

We are the land.


Cedric Saturday, Sep 2 2017 

IMG_1902.jpgIt hasn’t quite gotten to this colour around here yet — another few weeks, though.

But it is cool enough so that we finally gave up and turned Cedric on last night.  Who is Cedric?  The boiler for the heating system.  I do hope that we are not the only ones who give odd names to at least some of our supposedly inanimate objects.  Supposedly.  Not everything gets a name.  But some things do.  Cedric, for instance.  Then there is Fergie, who is an elderly but still quite functional Ferguson tractor.  Or Girl, who is the lawn tractor and mower and in the wintertime sometime snowblower — who got the name Girl after the poem (“there was a little girl who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead.  And when she was good she was very very good, and when she was bad she was horrid.”  Remember that one?).

Whimsy never hurts…


When it rains… Thursday, Aug 31 2017 

No, not the liquid sort… but, it we haven’t really managed to finish the peaches yet (getting, there, getting there!) but now…IMG_7464.jpg

Wolf River.  I think.  The tree is having a wonderful time this year (it’s one of those every other year trees).  Looks like we can’t relax just yet.


Peaches Thursday, Aug 24 2017 

There probably is a very good reason.  I am sure that there is a very good explanation… but

Do they all have to come ripe at once?


The cooks in the family have been industriously sterilizing jars and making up a sugar syrup and taking the skin off and so on and on.  That’s only a very small part!  There are more on the opposite counter, and yet more in the cellar.  They’ll be very welcome this winter, but why do they all seem to come at once?

And we’re not done yet!


Where’s the ladder?

Time Wednesday, Aug 23 2017 


For something which is completely inexorable and steady, time has a curiously elastic feel somehow.  How long ago was it, really, when I looked out on the view above and the spring crocus were coming up on the edge of the field in all their colors?  Did it seem then that summer would last?  When I was taking my nap just now, how long ago was it that I was lying in the same bed and listening to the milk man come with his glass bottles, on a summer morning just like the one which we had this morning?  Last week? When was that?


The fall asters tell me that summer is all but over, and that autumn – perhaps the loveliest time of year – is just about to come.  For our young people, perhaps a surer sign is that the school busses are out on the roads, learning their routes.  For others, it is time to break out the canning jars and work on the peaches again.  Another year has rolled around, and much has changed.  And yet, and yet… I look out across the hills, or just across the Keeping Room to my piano, and I wonder.  Just what has changed?  But change, like time, is everywhere and always.

Perhaps the psalmist says it best, as paraphrased here by Isaac Watts:

A thousand ages in thy sight are like an evening gone, short as the watch which ends the night before the rising sun.

Time like an ever-rolling stream bears all its sons away; they fly forgotten as a dream flies at the opening day.


Now Sunday, Aug 20 2017 

I was sitting peacefully in a canoe the other day, in a quiet backwater cove of a small lake.  Not really thinking about much of anything at all.

Then for some reason a song came into my head, which I’ve often listened to and thought some about, but I’m not sure I ever really made sense of it for myself: Lennon-McCartney’s “Let it Be”, but not their version; the one Joan Baez did.  And I realized that it did make sense, finally – some 44 years after I first heard it (I’m a little slow at times).

It is so important to be where you are, who you are, when you are there.  A thought which has been expressed often enough – it’s hardly original with me (there are innumerable songs along those lines – some better, some much worse, including one of mine!).  But now is where you are.  What has been, has been; it has informed who you are and how you got to now, but it is only something to be remembered.  Fondly, one hopes, but only remembered.  Tomorrow is yet to come, and will be when it does, but…

Let it Be.  Take today, and be alive in it, for it is the only reality we have.

B natural… Friday, Aug 18 2017 

My sister recently acquired a new washing machine.  There was a time when washing machines just stopped when they were done.  For that matter, there was a time when one had to watch the washing machine…  What was I saying?  Oh yes.  Then washing machines, or some of them, had a little bell.  Not much later, they went “beep” when they were done.  Not this new one.  I’m told that it plays a jolly little tune when it’s finished.

All of which got me to thinking in a disorganised way of the various artificial sounds we hear, more or less all the time or at least part of the time.  There is, in many places, a gentle background hum which we never notice, or rarely notice, from our electric power.  In North America, that turns out to be a slightly flat B natural tone (in Europe, it’s a slightly flat A flat).  The vacuum cleaner which is running in the background is an F sharp.  The other day a string trimmer was running outside; it is more musically ambitious, being a chord of C sharp and G sharp.  Telephones used to be a pretty formidable bell (ours still is) but now they, too, can be had which beep or play tunes — almost any tune.  Sometimes in the middle of a concert…  Then there is traffic, which usually isn’t a specific tone.

Some artificial sounds can be pleasant, of course — music is, but I’m not thinking of that.  A tractor, for instance, in the distance working a field, or a distant propeller airplane.

But how often are we able to be in a place which doesn’t have those sounds?  And listen to the natural sounds?  Perhaps the wind in the trees — or waves on a shore?  Or a brook?  Or birds?  Or busy insects?  A chipmunk, busily finding things in the leaves?  It’s not easy to do.

It’s worth taking the trouble to find quiet in our lives, and then listen to that quiet.

Norman Rockwell? Sunday, Aug 13 2017 

We were sitting on our kitchen steps this evening in the sunset light, looking out over the fields and listening — courtesy of a cell’ ‘phone! — to a country village band concert. The enormous contrast between what we read in the news and what we see and live crossed our minds. Yes, there is hatred and violence in the world, and we must all try as best we can to not take any part in it, and to help others to remove themselves from it. And yes, there is sorrow in the world. But… there is also beauty and joy and friendship, and neighbours. We can focus on the one — or on the other. Let us all try to focus on the beauty and joy, and on our loved ones and our friends and our neighbours, this evening and tomorrow and tomorrow.

Bzzzzz… Sunday, Aug 6 2017 


The objective of the exercise was to prune the weigela and some roses and a few other bushes.  This was somewhat interrupted when some of the local fauna took objection.  If you look carefully in the center of the photo, you will see…

A paper wasp nest. Not the largest we have had, but good sized.  Paper wasps are, we are told, a beneficial insect in the garden, as they like to eat caterpillars, beetle larvae, and other sundry critters which munch on the vegetables.    They are said to be relatively non-aggressive (unlike yellow jackets, which are very aggressive!), but they also don’t like to be disturbed.  So… the pruning got put off to another day.

We’ve also had them under porches, which interferes with painting… country life!

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