mouse
My dog has her tip toe shoes on. She is after a mouse. Walking slowly from edge to edge. While, more than likely the mouse is running scared. The mouse’s best chance is Willow falls asleep.
Surprise, surprise we have more than one mouse.
the turn
Late light.
The garden is looking weary. Plenty of yellow leaves. The vegetables are churning out, knowing fall is upon us. The carrots have the best growing in front of them, same as the cabbage
Old peas.
The nights are longer. It’s already cool in the mornings. Orion is rising when I awake. It clears the mountains before light.
Why the long face?
The peas have to be pulled. The ones I find I give to Willow. She appreciates them more if I open them. But what am I. . . her servant.
The stars and moon tell the story better.
the news
Willow eyeing up the carrots.
Recently, I had a conversation with someone I have a great deal of respect for. She is a business person who is smart and knows how to deal with personnel and clients. There is a lot of juggling that goes on in such situations. She handles it mostly with a smile on her face. Not much rattles her.
I call it ‘high functioning’, being able to deal with more than one thing at a time, sometimes more than ten things at at time. Some people are really good at it, she is one.
The other day her and I and a few others entered into a conversation. We talked about some of the recent events in Canadian news. Everyone in the conversation had an opinion except her. She said, she doesn’t listen, read or watch the news.
Now, back when I was growing up this was a form of ignorance which bothered me. In my uneducated world, newspapers and televised news was how a person educated themselves.
She explained, she didn’t want Trump and everything else in the news filling up her brain while there was more important stuff to think about and accomplish.
***
In the same boat.
My good friend Dave and I talk often. We have always laughed about how many children get rides to school, even when they live within walking distance. He says, it’s because we hear about a kid being snatched in some faraway place on the news and we take notice, it’s real, it’s like it happened under our nose, even though it is the safest time in Canada to be a child. We turn vigilant. It takes up space in our mind. It’s why our children have lost the pleasure of walking to school.
***
If I listened to it all, I’d pack it in. Call it. Say uncle. And sometimes I feel like it.
***
The sky is still blue. Sometimes it rains, sometimes it’s dry. The forest catches on fire and banks get chewed away by runoff.
***
Turning.
The moral of this story, if there is one, let your kids walk to school. Teach them to say, ‘fuck you’, when warranted. They are going to have plenty to be pissed about come future.
Perseids
You know you’re getting old when you go downstairs to get something but forget what it was once down there. Then as soon as you are back upstairs you remember. . . ah my teeth.
***
Wet on and off most of the weekend. I can’t say I’m disappointed. It’s good to face the warm rain. I prefer it to smoke any day.
***
The Perseid Meteor Shower is underway, but will be obscured by the moon and clouds, at least, for the next few days.
***
Was behind the mountains looking for Huckleberries. There was a few, along the cut, under the small pines. Picked enough for a taste. Time is scarce these days. It seems I’m due off the mountain as soon as I work the tension out of my joints.
***
These days it’s the far off dangers we fear while the small seemingly inconsequential pains go ignored. Crooked small town politicians, poor education and inadequate health care for everyone but the rich gets a pass in the face of such impending doom dominating the 24 hour news cycle.
We would all better off if we worried about the crooked little bastards running the local schools, weaselling away money while looking forward to retirement. Or the entire bunch of our small town and provincial politicians, changing the landscape to benefit themselves.
There is plenty to get riled up about right under our noses, before even thinking of Trudeau or Trump, in truth, two narcissist, blowhards that should be ignored while we focus on events closer to us, including the lives of neighbours and family, substantially more important.
long weekend
Dave rolls a dart, Chewy licks the papers. It’s a joint effort.
Damn, this has been a busy long weekend. Calgarians tailgating everywhere they go. All in a hurry to have fun. Making the most of it, they must figure.
While driving through town I saw two incidents of road rage. All four involved were from the city. One had a Flames front licence plate, stealing another’s parking spot. Cue the horn, hand gestures and expletives. I am ashamed to say this warms my heart. I wish the Flames were as aggressive.
It never ceases to amaze me how people act on holiday while trying to relax.
It also never ceases to amaze me the wealth that flows into the valley. If Alberta is hurting, we don’t see it here.
Also, if there is a climate crisis we don’t see it here. It’s big cars, trucks, boats, RV’s, ATV’s and huge second homes built as close to the water as they can get away with. All spewing CO2, polluting the land and water. Perhaps when they start worrying I should too.
Some of these folks can be counted as our most vocal environmentalists. Always reminding us they love it so much this is where they decide to vacation, drive, boat, ATV, fly, build, spend their money and die. Don’t think I don’t appreciate it. I have a $16 an hour job because of it.
Tonight the sky is blue. The breeze is warm. My arms are tanned and I have a full garden of food.
Very fine day.
distinction
It smells like dynamite in here, maybe not dynamite, but caps, the ones cracked open between rocks.
Not sure about the righteous or bad. They both have the power to corrupt. Plus they knock on the door mighty early. . . or late. Either or.
Am I left to figure it out, global warming, class action, fake news, bitcoin, psychology, gravity, astrology, all the rest. . . it’s like the g-spot; if 95% of the experts are arguing and can’t decide. . . what hope is there for us mere mortals.
****
Flippant, my mother said.
Now we had a relationship.
The day I was born, she probably, thought,
fuck!
I’m too old for this.
40 was old back then.
***
I love the word flippant and
guzzle, tankard, daredevil,
also a bunch others.
***
Knowing words
I can’t pronounce.
***
Still, look where we are, dreading the news,
forgetting what got us here,
the dust, all the wind,
floods and
thunderstorms.
***
I’m okay with it!
***
It seems indiscriminate.
The best we can hope for,
ro dun dent
A mouse has decided to make it’s home in our studio. It has chewed the weather stripping at the bottom of the door. I blamed Willow at first, thinking she was scratching at the door, though I’ve never seen her do so. The mouse has even got into my big teacher’s desk and chewed into my bag of veggie and flower seeds.
Willow knows it’s inside and it drives her nuts. She sniffs and snorts and follows it from one hiding place to another. Once under the old Heidelberg press it is safe. Willow falls asleep with her nose beside the pallet.
If Willow doesn’t pick up her game I may have to buy a trap.
***
The garden has gone from wet to bone dry over the weekend. It doesn’t take many sunny days to parch the earth.
The garden is producing more than we can eat. Tonight it is mixed salad including kale, spinach and chard, beets, carrots and spuds.
Another week and the zucchini and squash will be ready.
The beans are also on the rise, this year will be quite a crop as it seems every seed germinated.
***
A lazy Sunday after a busy week.
