Daisies and Yarrow
A busy Canada Day Weekend for Lisa and I. Our son Hunter and his wonderful girlfriend Bree were out from Calgary to take in the festivities with their friends. We put up a higher fence around the garden in and attempt to dissuade the deer from eating our vegetables.
Lisa stopping on a cutblock to admire the daisies.
Lisa busied herself further making wooden signs for our daughter Maddy’s quickly approaching wedding. Lisa is very handy with power tools and can whip together almost anything. This spring she made me a a potting bench, complete with a sink, from the old leftover cedar siding from our renovation a few years ago.
Driving Willow crazy.
This morning we escaped the ruck of the crowd in the valley bottom and got behind Swansea. We followed the creek a ways then turned mountain side. Crossed a few cutbacks covered in daises, kept up until the road ended in a spot we haven’t visited for awhile.
Always happy, even if sometimes one step behind.
Willow looked and dug for rodents. I took a few photos. Found a spring crisscrossed with moose tracks. Lisa harvested small new prickly pine cones. We picked a couple bouquets of wild flowers for home. Willow hunted until her tongue hung out of her mouth.
Very fine day.
“Yes I am. It’s on my resumé,”
said my neighbour,
after he was told
My fence even half not up
still tomorrow should
It’s good not to be a connoisseur of anything. It allows us to drink bad beer and wine, eat all the the extra parts of the animal, enjoy Jughead and Crumb, figure a fine is sometimes worth it, tell bad jokes, unpolitically correct or just in bad taste, share stories about birds, flying, laughing. . . those superior bastards.
Plus what would we do without sub standard music? Shite, we would all be listening to Brahms and Taylor Swift.
My boss likes to say, we ain’t building a piano. He doesn’t say it to me. He knows I haven’t seen a piano since keyboards. But for the other guys. . . those old fucks.
Storm clouds with nothing in them, neither rain or wind. Most go west to east and jump the mountains. It’s the northerners you have to worry about. They care little for geography, and will flatten a garden in a minute.
Exaggeration isn’t just bullshit.
Elegance in anything is worth the paper it is printed on.
Which is a lot in this day and age
Have you seen paper lately
printed on it,
All this time I’ve lived under the stars
and never once hurt
Even by my own standards
I’ve become a fake.
I think not.
I am sick of bringing the dog in when she barks. She has the perimeter, both of us in here, fat as hamsters, her, waiting for me to eat something and me, racked with anxiety, eating anything.
3 hrs of darkness
Last light catches rain.
Perhaps when I get old (er), I said to Lisa, I’ll keep the camera nestled in my lap while sitting on the porch and take pictures of clouds.
Lisa said, sure, reassuring like I’d just slipped off.
Lettuce, self seeded, beside the compost.
The garden is still behind but showing promise. The beans came up like gangbusters. Not like other years. The cabbage is doing the best out of what was planted. The weeds are kicking ass, until tomorrow. That’s when I’m heading out there like a pimp with my angry hoe.
A few early black cherry tomatoes.
Just words. My friend, said, he wanted a shirt that said, free speech is more important than your feelings. I agree. The problem is, if you want the shirt, you have to be on the internet and buy it from the white supremacists.
A pterodactyl or blue heron, one or the other, flies into the storm.
Fathers Day. I was lucky. Phone calls and even a few Instagram tributes. It was pretty nice. Better than being like most of the dads on Instagram . . . already dead.
Tomorrow, I’m heading out there like I said. That’s the trick, and probably what makes a good father.
Very fine day.
It was a quick trip into the bush this evening. It has been busy with work. Usually in bed before the sun is down.
We were looking for the next wild orchids. After the Calypso comes the larger Yellow species. These are said to be quite rare. They often grow by springs that arise from the mountain side.
The first cub is waisting no time getting hid.
Although still warm from the day, we saw a female Black Bear and two cubs on the road going up. I worry for these bears. Even though there is no hunting season for them right now, they are often poached for certain parts (feet, gallbladder, head) to be sent overseas.
The orchids were there waiting when we arrived. Very fine evening.