Larry Gibbons' Blog

I FEEL GOOD. I FEEL WONDERFUL.

1/4/2020

OH NO! A MONSTER VIRUS!

I feel good. I feel wonderful.

MONSTER VIRUS

This positive mantra reminds me of the words in the movie ‘What About Bob?’ Poor Bob Wiley was paranoid about almost everything and he was, in this movie, really funny as he baby- stepped through his scary world.

Lately, I’ve felt that way.

I often use humour to get through rough times. I also can understand that saying ‘I feel good, I feel wonderful’ might not be a bad idea. Because this virus outbreak can wear on a person’s sense of security.

HOME SWEET HOME

Take the post office. I went there to get some stamps. That’s all I wanted. Stamps. Ten of them. A rather mundane request.

I walked into the post office after reading the warning sign, and I heard,

“Have you been out of the country in the last—?” I forget how long it was.

“No.” I started walking towards the counter.

“No! No sir! Go around the other side of the display counters.”

“Yes mam.”

“How can I help you?”

“I’d like ten stamps.”

“Stay there. Don’t get close.”

“Okay, come here and pick up the stamps.” Etc. Etc.

I feel good. I feel wonderful.

SOMETHING INTERESTING ON NICHOLSON TRAIL

I went through the Timmy’s drive-through. When I paid, I told her to keep the corona virus change. She looked mystified. I didn’t blame her. I’d used my weird humour.

“You can keep the change because of the virus. It’s a virus tip,” I explained.

She smiled. I think she might have got it. Don’t blame her if she didn’t.

I feel good. I feel wonderful.

BELLE COTE BEACH

I sterilized the plastic cup by cleansing it with hydrogen peroxide.

SEAGULLS RELAXING ON BEACH

At the co-op, I went to exchange an empty bottle for a full water bottle.

“We’re not taking exchanges at the moment,” the woman said.

I said. “I guess I’m going to see the empty plastic bottles as big investments for the future.”

She looked at me as she disinfected a bottle of disinfectant.

“In Ontario I turned in a hundred dollars worth of plastic bottles before we took off for Nova Scotia,” I explained.

She thought that was interesting. I’d clarified.

 feel good. I feel wonderful. I baby-stepped.

BELLE COTE BEACH

At the beer store I told the clerks that my hands were going to fall off from all the hand sterilizer stuff I’d been putting on them. Not a glimmer of a ha-ha.

I feel good. I feel wonderful.

Oh, and I’ve had to take my ring off. All the virus killer has made it so my ring keeps slipping off my finger. The last time it fell into the bottom of my grocery bag.

I feel good. I feel wonderful.

AN INADVERTENT SCULPTURE

The drugstore was a crap show. I asked the woman why were only two people allowed in and why all the police tape and such. Is there some news I haven’t heard about? Ha,ha,ha.

The woman did squeeze out a grin. She was the one who told me to stay where I was and asked me where I thought I was going.

I feel good. I feel wonderful.

GOT ME THINKING

A few days ago I woke up with my stomach full of bees when I thought about the world and the virus. It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel wonderful.

So, I climbed a mountain. I sat on a log and listened to the absolute silence, except for the wind which had just begun to bring in a snow storm. I did feel good and I did feel wonderful. The silence of the wind, the snow, fresh air, the forest, it couldn’t help but make me feel wonderful.

MOUNTAIN FOREST

And you know what. Remember when I told you that they wouldn’t take my empty water bottle for a deposit. That did, at a later date, make me feel good and wonderful.

You see, I was sitting on the couch drinking tea, eating a tuna sandwich and watching Trudeau trying to do his very difficult job. I didn’t watch the other channel because I can’t stand watching the orange clown bragging about how well he is doing his job. Too not feeling good. Too not feeling wonderful.

Sue was also doing a difficult job. She was wiping water up off the floor. She’d dry it and it would be wet again. She’d dry it some more and it would be wet again. She was definitely not feeling good or wonderful.

ME ON MOUNTAIN BY MY LONESOME

I jumped off the couch and checked out the problem. There was, not far away, the new water bottle that I’d bought that morning. I picked it up. It’s heavy. Water was leaking out of a crack at the bottom of the bottle.

Guess what? I had an empty bottle to empty the water into because the store had refused to take it because of the corona virus. Wasn’t that handy? Wasn’t that good and wonderful and coincidental?

I feel good. I feel wonderful.

Hopefully, we all will, at some point.

TREES REACHING OUT

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APOCALYPSE?

22/3/2020

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THEY POSED THEMSELVES

The bad news is everywhere and the virus is in some places, but not yet everywhere. I don’t think there is any use of my overloading my anxiety system with too much bad news. I believe in good information. Constant bad news is bad news.

BUSTER CALMS US

Some folks think this is the end of the world. I have to disagree. Life the way we know it, good chance. However, having spent a fair amount of time in nature, I can’t see that the non-human life forms, that are everywhere, are going to be greatly disturbed by what happens to the human race nor do I think they will have much to do with a human-centric apocalypse.

BUSTER FINISHES FLOSSING

I know the blue jay, which for some reason was in our woodshed and who was above me, dropping bits of wood and stuff down on my head while I held my hand over the beer glass so nothing got into the elixir, doesn’t give much of a hoot about this particular virus. I wonder if she is building a nest? She seems reluctant to leave the woodpile.

FOLLOWING THE FOOD

“Perhaps the greatest achievement of man is his ability to die, and his ability to disregard it. Certainly poetry and paint are no deterrent, nor the high hurdles of the mind over the skulls of realism. Let us say, finally, that truth is not all that matters—often, it is the putting aside of a truth.”
Charles Bukoski, Portions From a Wine-StainedNotebook

SALMON POOL'S TRAIL

Sue and I have always figured that being in a quieter, less populated area is physically and spiritually healthier, even if it may be a more difficult environment to live and function in. It has it’s disadvantages, but the advantages over-rule the negatives. Just ask one of my Kingston cab drivers.

LEAVING SALMON POOL'S CABIN

This reminded me of something Emily Carr wrote

“That miserable chalky lifelessness that had seized me in London overtook me again. The life-class rooms were hot and airless. Mr. Gibb told me of a large studio run by a young couple who employed the best critics in Paris. Mr. Gibb himself criticized there. Students said he was dour and very severe, but that he was an exceedingly good teacher. I would also have the advantage of getting criticism in my own language.
I studied in this studio only a few weeks and, before Mr Gibb’s month of criticism came, I was flat in hospital where I lay for three hellish months and came out a wreck. The Paris doctor said, as had the London one. I must keep out of big cities or die. My sister and I decided to go to Sweden.”
Emily Carr, Growing Pains

INSPECTING A DEAD BARRED OWL PROBABLY KILLED BY HIGH WINDS

“When I’m in a big city or even a smaller city, I find my body capable of handling the noise, rush and concrete for only a few days. However, I have found that alcohol and a clove of garlic, sliced or crushed and put into a BLT is a great help.”
Larry Gibbons, Blog 105

ICE BALLERINA

I’ve got some bird cafe’ information for you. You may not know this, but blue jays are rather aggressive and if they find your bird feeder they will very likely take it over. They eat and squawk and screech. They like to screech by stretching up on their feet while twisting their necks up towards the sky.

NOT SOCIAL DISTANCING

The last few years the blue jay patrons have increased in number to the point where we now have, some days, over thirty blue jays. The poor juncos, chickadees, grosbeaks, etc. just have to humbly peck where they can, never getting even close to the best tables.

EVENING GROSBEAKS TAKE OVER

However, last week, the grosbeaks, who usually only numbered around two to six, had had enough. They brought their friends and relatives. They took over the feeder. They flew in, in mass. Forty or more and it was humorous to watch. I saw one blue jay sitting on a branch, his head twisting this way and that way as he tried to keep track of all the grosbeaks who were flitting around in every direction and who had taken over all the good tables.

BLUE JAY AT BAD TABLE

Way to go Grosbeaks.

EARLY MORNING ICE COVERED TREES

SUE RESTING ON A BIG SNOWBALL

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THANKS FOR THE HELP

28/2/2020

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VIEW ON WAY HOME FROM SHOPPING

Our bird feeder restaurant must be highly rated. Whenever we count the different kinds of birds, the sum almost always comes out to an even number. Which to us, says that the birds are bringing a date to our eatery.

OUTSIDE OUR LIVING ROOM WINDOW

On Sunday, a friend and I snowshoed. This episode reinforced my idea that we all have an angel or angels looking after us.

I’ve also heard, from an intelligent person, that some people need angels more than others. I think my hiker friend and I rely heavily on our angels.

The weather forecast was for above zero temperatures. I therefore sprayed silicone on my large pair and my small pair of snowshoes. The silicone helps prevent wet snow from sticking to the metal teeth. I wear different sized snowshoes depending upon the depth and state of the snow.

TWO SNOW STORMS AGO

Later on, I pulled into my friend’s driveway. I think I may have been whistling a tune, but I’m not sure. I jumped out of the truck, possibly still whistling, walked to the door, grabbed the door knocker and gave the door some hefty knocks.

That’s when I stopped whistling. Had I remembered my snowshoes? I couldn’t have been that stupid. I rushed to the truck, opened the tail-gate. I was that stupid! &*(!!

My friend told me she’d borrowed a pair from the library. Ipso facto, she had two pairs. Her own pair had been slightly injured, but was still useable.

Thank-you angel or angels.

SUE'S CAR

My friend told me while we were inside her closed-in porch that she had a ski pole I could use. However, would I be so kind as to loosen the poles’ connections so they could be stretched out and made longer?

I quickly and carelessly grabbed one pole and began to tug and turn. My hand slipped, the pole shot out to my right and bang, it smacked heavily into the window. An expensive window located on the inside inner door.

It was close, but it didn’t break. It could have been, relatively speaking, a rather expensive and catastrophic inconvenience?

Thank-you angel.

PAPER DELIVERY DOG FOR SALE

Then we were off. My friend wanted to ski along Bras D’or Lake. The trail-head begins off the road and is a straight pathway which leads to the water. It ends at a boat house. Another trail runs along the shoreline. It’s a great pathway for getting a chance to see all the rich folks’ cottages and boat houses. It also offers hikers a wonderful view of the wide, snow-covered lake.

Oh, oh! My friend informed me she didn’t know exactly where the trail-head was. I didn’t either.

So, we cruised along the tall snow banks until we saw a trail. We weren’t sure if it was the right one, but it was a trail.

PAPER DELIVERY DOG ON DOWN TIME

I donned her small pink snowshoes. I felt like a he-man as I strapped them on.

We began the trek by climbing over a large snow bank and then we began hiking through the untouched snow.

We quickly came to suspect that this wasn’t the trail we’d been on last year. Last year’s trail didn’t run through a marsh. We slogged through the snow while staying close to the tree line so we would have a better chance of not going through the ice and water that we sometimes noticed after we’d lifted our feet.

The lake was supposed to be in front of us, but we saw no sign of it.

RUNNING OUT OF ROOM

Suddenly, up ahead, I saw a white pick-up drive by. That wasn’t supposed to happen. The trail was supposed to end at a boathouse and the lake. Not a road. My friend asked me if I might have been hallucinating. Was it a cold weather mirage? I said I didn’t think so.

We finally arrived at the end of the trail without falling into the water. Should we thank one of our angels for this? Don’t know, but just in case,

"Thank-you, angel.”

HEAVY WITH SNOW

There was the road and no lake. Where the heck was the lake?

We spotted a cottage. It was to the left of us. Surprising, because the cottages were supposed to be on the right side. And, voila, there was the lake, right in front of the cottage. The lake was also in the wrong place. Who moved everything?

ANY ONE FOR BASKETBALL

We trespassed. Broke the law. Cut through the cottage lot and found the lake-side trail. On our illegal trespass route we passed a beautiful little cottage. It reminded me of an angel’s bungalow.

TAKING A SHORT CUT

When we got to the shoreline trail I saw the boat house. It was a way down the trail and to our left. It was supposed to have been at the end of the correct trail.

ANGELS'S HOUSE

Because the slogging on the wrong trail had been so strenuous we decided to head to the boat house and then take the proper trail back to the road. Where we suspected we’d have to climb over a large snowbank, remove our snowshoes and then walk about quarter of a K or so down the road so we could get back to my truck.

Anyway, we hiked to the boat house, and then hiked back to the road.

BOAT HOUSE

It was heavy going. However, we finally made it to the road, climbed over a snowbank and there was my truck. Parked fifty feet away. We had hiked on a trail that was only about fifty feet from the correct one.

Thank-you angel or angels. I think.

Write to me and I’ll send you a topographical map of our Sunday route. Ha.

RATTY AND SNIFFLES

I hope, when I’ve passed on, that folks will think of me the way Thomas Hardy expressed it in his poem:

“When the present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay
And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings,
Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say,
“He was a man who used to notice such things?”
Thomas Hardy, Afterwards

SUE AND BUSTER ON OUR LANE

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BEING TOUGH

3/2/2020

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GORGEOUS SNOWSHOE TRAIL

This morning I’m sitting in my yellow chair. I’m thinking about writing, writers, rejection slips, the occasional acceptance slip and all that goes with being a wordsmith and just how damn tough you have to be to be a writer.
Because, if you’re a masochist, don’t mind being uncompensated for most of your work and enjoy rejection, then do I have the job for you.

DARN BRANCHES

Recently, a friend suggested my writing was similar to Charles Bukowski’s, so I’m going to quote Charles more than once.

Charles Bukowski received an extremely interesting rejection slip.

“Dear Mr. Bukowski:

Again, this is a conglomeration of extremely good stuff so full of idolized prostitutes, morning-after vomiting scenes, misanthropy, praise for suicide etc. that it is not quite for magazines of any circulation at all. This is, however, pretty much a saga of a certain type of person and in it I think you’ve done an honest job. Possibly we will print you sometime, but I don’t know exactly when. That depends on you.
Sincerely yours—-“
Charles Bukowski, Portions From a Wine-stained Notebook

SQUIRREL'S NEST ON SNOWSHOE

I said to a friend who has published a novel and is working on another one that many writers are very sensitive and yet are as tough as nails. They have to be.

For one thing, there are so many temptations to knock writers off their true path. However, because many writers are tough, they put up a gritty fight. Their dukes are up against the rigid existential explanations many people intrinsically accept as beyond criticism. These soulful questions do not sleep for the true artist.

SNOWSHOE NEST SUSPECT

Stephen King wrote that before he submits a novel to his publisher he gives it to some folks to read and then they give him suggestions on how to improve it and on whether they enjoyed it or not.

For the average writers, who are almost all struggling, it can be excruciatingly humbling and nerve-wracking to be laying your novel out there. To go from the quietness of your writing room and to plunk the novel down in the public arena, before you have even had a publisher reject or accept the novel. One thing for sure, you should trust the people who you ask to read your unpublished novel.

COWS TREES AND ICE

And what about all the writing contests where the judges can be as fickle as a hen in a seed factory?

I remember reading the guidelines for one writing contest. It’s demanding wordiness made me think, how can I possibly enter my story when everything has to be so perfect? The entry needed a certain font, particular margins, with no margins for error, we had to use the Voodoo special submission format, it should have absolutely no spelling errors, be grammar error free, we could only use certain paper of a specific size, no lines, be mailed only when the moon was as full as it could possibly be and on and on and so much on and on that I declined to submit. I mean, would they turf a Tolstoy story if it were written on a paper bag?

But, do you know what the greatest irony was about this call to submit guidelines? In their document was a glaring grammatical error. Find Waldo. It wasn’t that hard.

FARM HOUSE

It’s a jungle out there and the only thing that keeps a person like me writing is that I love writing and I’ll be darned if I’m going to stop writing because a publisher was rude, or a judge doesn’t see my story as being worth a vote or what I write isn’t the in thing, or I write like a working class writer who seldom uses the gold star words the so called cultured folks consider essential.

SUE TEACHING BUSTER HOW TO START A FIRE

Here’s something that not everyone sees. I was in an Ontario library. I looked up my book in their computer system. I found me. And at the top was written, ‘Larry Gibbons, 1947-.

There’s no way I want to fill in the blank at this time.

BEAUTY IN FRONT OF MY NOSE

It’s ironic, but being unsuccessful in life can be advantageous to your writing. This is one of the koans I’ve been wrestling with since my brain’s first synapse fired off its fledgling electrical impulse.

Here’s another Bukowski quote.

“Pain doesn’t make anything, nor does poverty. The artist is there first. What becomes of him depends upon his luck. If his luck is good (worldly-speaking) he becomes a bad artist. If his luck is bad, he becomes a good one. In relation to the substance involved.”

Charles Bukowski, Portions From a Wine-stained Notebook

ONE OF THE CULPRITS WHO IS EATING OUR MOBILE HOME

What the heck. One more Bukowski quote.

“And the trick is to stay propped up for 50 or 60 or 70 or 80 or 90 years yes eyes open while the flies get stuck in the paper and the great paintings are stolen and the faithful wives run off with unfaithful lovers, all to die in the morning, unclasped and cold and kissless.”

Charles Bukowski, Portions From a Wine-stained Notebook

I always like to end my blogs on a positive note.

GEOMETRIC SNOW

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ROBERT FROST'S STORM FEAR

21/1/2020

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WONDERLAND

Last week, Sue, Buster and I decided to luxuriate. We had our
driveway cleared of snow and just in time for another snow dump.

Also, did you know that the blue jays snack on our trailer while they are waiting for their breakfast. The blue jays are eroding away our trailer. No guff.

AFTERNOON RUSH HOUR

Here’s one of my favourite Robert Frost poems. It’s called, “STORM FEAR”.

HERMIT'S CABIN

“When the wind works against us in the dark

And pelts with snow

The lower chamber window on the east,

ICY WOODS

And whispers with a sort of stifled bark,

The beast,

“Come out! Come out!”-

It costs no inward struggle not to go,

Ah, no!

I count our strength,

BLINDING SNOW

Two and a child,

Those of us not asleep subdued to mark

MYSTERIOUS WOODS

How the cold creeps as the fire dies at length,-

How drifts are piled,

EVER VIGILANT GUARD RAT

WHY WOULD WE WANT TO GO SOUTH WITH ALL THIS

Dooryard and road upgraded,

SUE SWEEPING AWAY STORM

Till even the comforting barn grows far away

And my heart owns a doubt

TREE LOVE NOTE

Whether ’tis in us to arise with day

And save ourselves unaided.”

MIDDLE RIVER WILDERNESS TRAIL

ME BY TRAIL SIGN

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LARGE AND SMALL

9/1/2020

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GUARD RAT IN SNOW

The other day, I read an Alexander Pope quote, and wow, did he nail it. It seemed so relevant, what with all the nasty social media pollution, anger, aggression, blatant lies, ridiculous and dangerous hyperbole, immoral behaviour, so-called Christians who espouse morality and then ignore or accept immorality, because they believe by doing so their agenda will be achieved. Well, enough, I’ll let Alexander Pope say it. He does a much better job.

MIDDLE RIVER WILDERNESS AREA

“The wit of cheats, the courage of a whore,
Are what ten thousand envy and adore:
All, all lookup, with reverential awe,
At crimes that ‘scape, or triumph o’er the law:
While truth, worth, wisdom, daily they decry-
‘Nothing is sacred now but villainy.”

BUSTER

I find it hard to read the news. Continuous reports about climate change disasters. It’s like the earth is attempting to projectile vomit out our toxic behaviour.

It’s difficult to hear of the earth being destroyed by the need to accumulate. By those who believe the earth is as disposable as a plastic grocery bag and is only here for them to earn their way to heaven. Many of our political and spiritual leaders being blinded by their ideology.

AN INVISIBLE BEAUTY

FRIEND OF INVISIBLE ONE

They miss so much, small and big, as they use up the earth’s beauty.

HIDDEN IN THE WILDERNESS AREA

Other cultures have much to teach us about morality and our authentic connection to the earth and its inhabitants.

“Long Before I ever heard of Christ, or saw a White man, I had learned from an untutored woman the essence of morality. With the help of dear Nature herself, she taught me things simple but of mighty import. I knew God. I perceived what goodness is. I saw and loved what is really beautiful. Civilization has not taught me anything better!”
Charles A. Eastman, The Soul of the Indian”

INVISIBLE'S NEIGHBOUR

They are countless and everywhere.

EARTH CLOUDS

Sue, Buster and I are happy to report that we’re still alive. Mind you, we’ve had some bumps along the way, but we’ve survived them and here we are, ready or not, to live another year of life.

My son’s family had quite the health scare in late 2019, but thankfully that situation seems to be working out. Great doctors are still working in our hospitals.

TOUCHING AND FEELING

Sue has battled some mighty fine diseases. Some years ago she was stricken with severe Rheumatoid Arthritis. Things looked dire for some time, but nowadays she’s walking two to five K per day. Partially, I must say, because of Buster’s constant demands for treats and walks. And here we thought poor Sue was going to end up crippled and in a wheel chair.

BUSTER ON SMOKE BREAK

Her latest battle has been rather jarring for both of us. However, we’re hoping that the future isn’t as horrible as some might think.

One thing going for us is that we live in a quiet place where a Christmas shopping traffic jam can be less than twenty cars on the road during an eighteen K drive to the store.

DRIVING BACK FROM A SHOPPING TRIP

Here there is time to hear your thoughts and although nature is unpredictable and has its own ways, it also allows a person space to contemplate and smell the roses, so to speak.

“A man must have a certain amount of intelligent ignorance to get anywhere.”
Charles Francis Kettering

STUMPY

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

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CHAOTIC EFFICIENCY

17/12/2019

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We have a deck. It is screened in to keep out the bugs. The last two winters we’ve put plastic and plywood over the screen to keep out the snow and rain. This year we didn’t. I didn’t feel like it.

Yesterday, I watched Sue sweep snow off the deck floor. I thought to myself, Sue loves sweeping. If there were no snow on the floor that would cut out her winter fun sport. Some people might think that’s a weird way of thinking.

I’m saying that what appears inefficient and archaic may not be.

WHY DID THE GROUSE CROSS THE ROAD?

You see, I’ve been spending plenty of time dealing with so called efficient companies online and offline.

I mean, for one thing, why don’t they hire more people for their call centres?

TO GET TO THE OTHER SIDE

For example, take my attempts to order cheques. I still write cheques to pay for some of my bills. I’m a sweeper at heart.

First off, I phoned the local bank and was told that the number didn’t exist. So, I swept through the internet and found another phone number.

The number was valid and after punching in a whack of numbers, I was sent to a call centre. The call centre told me there would be a wait of from twenty to forty minutes before I could talk to an actual human. I hung up.

I decided to order cheques online. I have a password which I used to sign in. I clicked on the ‘Help’ button and learned how to order cheques. I clicked on the order cheques icon and then signed out.

OUR POND

One week, two weeks, three weeks. Still no cheques so I drove to where one of these banks lives. It takes nearly an hour and a half to get to this bank, but I had other business.

I lined up. I waited. I watched a teller work the line while others did other non-line related chores.

I finally got to the teller and told her I had ordered cheques online and they still hadn’t arrived. She cheerfully told me it can take a long time to get the cheques delivered. She comforted me with her professional smile.

I waited another week. No cheques.

TRAIL THROUGH GHOST WOODS

I tried phoning this bank’s branch in another province. No human being answered. Instead, a loud voiced man shipped me off to a call centre. I hung up. Decided to try, once again, the online pathway to success and easy living.

I used my magic password and I once again used the help box and was given instructions. I tried to follow the instructions, but was suddenly told I had to sign in. But, but, hadn’t I already signed in?

I whipped out my magic password and was told, in so many words, that I had dallied too long in the other room in their website and my signing in wasn’t going to be accepted.

So, I grabbed a broom and helped Sue sweep and then I walked to the woodshed and split some wood, after removing a squirrel’s nest from one of my skates.

BROOK CREATURE

The next day, I thought maybe if I phoned earlier in the morning I’d get faster service. So, I did and followed to a T all the instructions the robo-woman gave to me.

And then, suddenly, I heard the phone ring in the kind of way that would make a person think, “By gumbo, I think I’ve snagged a live one.”

No, just another computer woman informing me that the waiting time was between five and twenty minutes. Better than the last call.

I have to admit that I envied Sue who was outside brushing the snow off our old, unpainted wooden steps while the polite computer woman with a hint in her voice that she was fighting a bad cold told me I could select the kind of music I would like to hear while I waited. Wow! That’s service for you.

BUSTER IN CHRISTMAS PAGEANT

I pushed the correct number and nice music came on. Everything was so damn efficient it made me want to choke myself.

Every minute the computer woman would interrupt the music to introduce me to a new online feature that was sure to make my banking experiences heavenly. Special this and thats which would turn my world into a beautiful enclosed screen porch where the brooms would run themselves. Where the firewood would let itself in. Where the river would flood our flood plain, but would leave us in a bubble of peaceful and organized total efficiency. God love us.

MORNING MOON

And this woman, who chose my music, was very, very polite. She’d even, from time to time, thank me for using up MY TIME.

DECEASED NEIGHBOUR'S YARD

Almost twenty minutes later, I got a human being. A woman with a heavy accent.

She asked me how she could help me. I told her. She told me I had to answer some questions. I hadn’t studied.

My birth date question was a piece of cake. Then they got more difficult. She started asking me specific questions about my bank account. What day had I paid this and what did I pay another company. Those sorts of things.

CAVE SHARK

Well, shoot me dead. I had, stupidly, been having my statements sent to me only online.

 had to excuse myself and get my computer and sign in and then we spent ten minutes while I bungled and bumbled around looking for my e-statement.

8AM RUSH HOUR

I finally found it and was able to answer her questions. I knew she was getting impatient because she was politely but occasionally doing some heavy breathing and sighing.

When this interrogation was finished and she wasn’t suspicious anymore, she asked how she could help me.

“Have my cheques been ordered?” I wearily asked.

“It doesn’t look like they have been ordered.” she replied. “Would you like me to order some for you?”

“Yes please.”

TREE WEARING DENTURES

“Would you like your name and address on the cheques?”

“Yes please.”

“You should get them in four to five days.”

That was last week. I walked to the mail box this morning to see if they were there. They weren’t, but I did notice that our mailbox had been ripped off the tree and was lying injured on the lane-way. So I grabbed the poor thing and carried it to the house while, with the other hand, I picked up some damp branches. I carried the branches into the trailer and gently laid them down by our wood stove where they will soon be cooked long enough to start a wee blaze in our little stove which heats our energy inefficient home.

FROZEN LEAF

FROZEN RAIN DROPS

Then I put on some music and listened without any interruptions, except by Buster who seems to need a treat as often as the computer woman needed to interrupt me to apologize for wasting my time.

Where have the days gone when you could phone a bank and hear a live person on the other end within two to five rings?

“How can I help you?”

“I’d like to order some cheques.”

“No problem. Just give me a minute while I pour some hot water on a tea bag and I’ll be right with you? I hate lukewarm tea.”

BEJEWELLED CATERPILLAR

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR

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November 28th, 2019

28/11/2019

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ICE COLOURS

“When the people call Earth “it,”
  They use her
   consume her strength.
   Then the people die.”
   Marilou Awiakta, When Earth Becomes an “It”
I have a theory about one of the reasons why our world is used so crassly. It’s contained in these words: ‘HUMAN RESOURCES’ and ‘NATURAL RESOURCES’.

A lot of uninhibited destruction has been caused by those words.

“the last wolf hurried toward me
   through the ruined city
   And I heard his baying echoes
   down the steep smashed warrens
   of Montgomery Street and past
   the few ruby-crowned high-rises
   left standing
   their lighted elevators useless.”

   “I heard his voice ascending the hill
   and at last his low whine as he came
   floor by empty floor to the room
   where I sat
   in my narrow bed looking west, waiting
   I heard him snuffle at the door and
   I watched
   he trotted across the floor

   he laid his long gray muzzle
   on the spare white spread
   and his eyes burned yellow
   his small dotted eyebrows quivered

   Yes, I said.
   I know what they have done.”
           Mary TallMountain, The Last Wolf
***

BUSTER'S GUARD RAT

I remember a funeral for an old fella. He was as stubborn as all get out. He had no power, he had no phone and his house was ramshackle. He was also a hoarder. His yard was buried in his treasures.

Gossip about this fella’s life style careened throughout the land. The general consensus was he’d lived a life which wasn’t up to most peoples’ standards. He’d made bad decisions and just look where that got him.
However, they all agreed he was one tough cookie.

CHARLIE

The fella was found dead in his one small room where there was space for his couch and a wee wood stove.

There was touching music at his funeral. The minister said nice things about him. Gave us a little sermon and, as usual, I tried my best to make sense of the fractured pieces of theology.

The minister then gave the benediction. The service was over. Except it wasn’t. An Indigenous woman wanted to say a few words.

LIVING TOTEM POLE

She talked about this deceased man from an entirely different perspective. Nothing about what he had or didn’t have. Nothing about what kind of life’s choices he had made. They knew he wasn’t perfect, but they admired him for who he was. They loved him because he wasn’t afraid of them and enjoyed being with them. They liked his stories, wild or otherwise.

Her speech was very emotional and without judgement. It was plain that this old hoarder was highly valued by the Indigenous People.

It also reminded me of why I valued my time spent with the Indigenous People. They saw life in a different way. They lived life in a different way. They weren’t judgemental and filled with musterbations. This Indigenous woman reminded me of what I have tried to value in my own life.

ESKASONI CROSS

“Our real discoveries come from chaos, from going to the place that looks wrong and stupid and foolish.”
Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monster

STATUE OF VIRGIN MARY IN ESKASONI

WEE FAIRY AT VIRGIN MARY'S FEET

Sue and I have, for much of our lives, tried to live as far away from the rat race of accumulation and hype as we could. Our lives have both, in many ways, gone against the accepted grain.

SUE ENJOYING CAPE BRETON BEAUTY

Sue lived in a cabin in the woods years before we met. I encountered her in the woods and then we both lived in the cabin. We lived with no running water and no road access in the winter.

When the road was covered in snow we’d park our vehicles about a half kilometre from the cabin. We’d ski, snowshoe or walk to our vehicles which were often covered with the tongue marks of cows, horses or deer. They loved licking the tasty salt off my truck and Sue’s car.

BUSTER SAW HIM FIRST

The first day I parked my truck in this field I had to say excuse me to a giant horse who stuck his head inside my truck and tried to lick my steering wheel.

Previously, I’d lived on a reserve for some time and had to listen to folks tell me how dangerous it was. How they wouldn’t last five minutes on the reserve. And I got advice about what I should be doing to make my life safer, saner, more sanitized and predictable.

ESKASONI ISLANDS

Over seven years ago, Sue and I moved to Cape Breton. We felt safer after we crossed the Canso Causeway and entered Cape Breton. Because, there’s a feeling when you enter Cape Breton that you are now in the land of the wild. The land of the stubborn and the non-conformist. A place where you don’t have to be cow-towing to the way things should be done and many people here are as stubborn as hell.

CARVED FEATHER IN ESKASONI FOREST

However, when we moved into our mobile home even some of these Cape Breton folks were worried about our safety. Because, you see, it was located on a flood plain. We were told some folks were talking about how one day a mighty flood would wash us out and into the ocean and we’d all drown.

SQUIRREL OUTSIDE OUR WINDOW

Have to tell you, life isn’t boring when you’re watching the river licking her chops over the river bank.

A CAUTIOUS MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM BUSTER

Did I mention we also live in a snow belt? And we don’t plough our driveway all that well in the winter and insurance companies don’t like that. We also have our woodpile in a bad location and they don’t like that. So—-well, you see where that could go. Mum’s the word. Okay?
But, it’s damn gorgeous here! Got to say that.
"If a man does not keep pace
with his companions,
Perhaps it is because he hears
a different drummer.
Let him step to the music he hears,
However measured or far away."
D. H. Thoreau

MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM SUE, BUSTER AND A DROWSY LOOKING LARRY

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DOGGIE STORIES

10/11/2019

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CORNEY BROOK

Have you heard the story about this canine fella who liked to crap in the house while her owner was away? You haven’t?

What would happen is the owner would arrive home, open her front door and there would be her dog, her tail wagging to beat the proverbial band. On the middle of the owner’s living room floor would be a pile of not particularly well-defined dumped doggie doo doo.

BUSTER ENJOYING FIRE

The first time this happened, the owner let out a blast of shouts and reprimands, grabbed the mid-sized dog by the neck, dragged her across the floor, stuffed her nose into the crappy mess and then tossed the poor dog out the living room window.

Didn’t seem to matter how often the owner blasphemed, jammed the dog’s nozzle into the poop and tossed her out the window. Because the next day and the next day the same mess was waiting for the owner.

Always the same dog discipling approach. The said owner would open the door, see the pile of dog crap, would loudly reprimand, grab the dog, stick the dog’s nose into the crap and then toss the stubborn doggie out the window.

CAT GANG

However, things changed one day. The owner came home, opened the door and was, as usual, met by her happy dog and the pile of brown crap on the floor.

This particular day, however, the dog took control of the disciplining technique. She ran up to the owner, tail wagging like crazy, then ran to the doo doo, jammed her nose into the pile and then, to her owner’s surprise, leapt out the window, all by her little lonesome.

My question is, what had the dog learned by being shouted at, having his nose jammed into his mess and then being tossed out the window?

LAKE O"LAW'S COLOURS

Here’s another story. Name has been changed to protect the dog.

Years ago, I got a phone call at work. A partner of mine had had a canine incident which upset her. You see, what happened, was while I was at work, my partner had heard a knock on the door.

When she opened the door, who should be standing there, but a man. He was a nice fella, I can vouch for that. There he was, standing in the doorway, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

SEAGULL ON LUNCH BREAK

My partner invited him in. Now remember, this was all happening while I was innocently working at my place of employment.

The nice man, who lived in our apartment building, stepped in and handed the flowers to my partner.

FALL BERRIES

During this kind and loving transaction, our dog was standing next to my partner. She was growling. Fido was not very welcoming.

My partner, trying to get my dog to nice it up a touch or two, said to our dog, Fido, “It’s okay, Fido. It’s okay.”

Fido, using, I believe, the same sort of canine reasoning as the dog in the previous story, thought, “I guess it’s okay if I’m told it’s okay.” So, he bit the nice man. I’m assuming because he was told it was okay.

So, I got this phone call from my troubled partner.

I said, “Let me get this straight. A man came to our apartment. He came to give you some flowers and Fido bit him. Did I get this right?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“So what’s the problem?” I asked.

SUE AND BUSTER AT QUEBEC PICNIC PARK

There’s a little more to this story. I felt sorry for the man, who himself owned two dogs. He owned a very large dog and a very small dog.

I took the elevator up to the eighth floor and knocked on the nice man’s door. I wanted to apologize. He opened the door. His two dogs poured out. They were all over me. They were so happy to see me and made a big fuss over me as if I was the King of Spain.

I apologized extra profusely because his dogs treated me with such respect, dignity and love.

HIKERS ENJOYING THE VIEW IN CAPE BRETON

A few nights ago, we were sitting in the living room watching a CNN reality television show.

Suddenly, we heard a thunk, thunk. We also heard a rattle, rattle. I looked up and there was Buster. He had banged his water dish with his nose and then to make his point extra clear, he’d begun to bang his nose against our big drinking water bottle.

BUSTER AT HIS HUMANS' BEHAVIOUR STUDY TABLE

It was pretty obvious what Buster wanted. I got up and sure enough his water dish was empty. So, I poured water into it and Buster drank the water. See Buster drink. Drink Buster, drink. Sorry. I started thinking I was writing a Dick and Jane blog.

After Buster had his fill, he jumped up on the couch and sat beside me.

Oh, but Buster was getting rather aggressive with his paw. See Buster get aggressive. Look, Sue, look.

Sorry. Grade one flashbacks.

SEAL FISHING

Anyway, Buster began to poke his paw against my shirt’s top pocket. Bang, bang and what is he up to now?

What he was up to was he was explaining to me, by using forceful pointing that he wanted a piece of gum which was in my top pocket.

I didn’t give him any because he can’t chew gum, but only licks off the gum’s yummy sweet taste and then leaves the denuded piece of gum on the floor.

HIKER ENJOYING CORNEY BROOK TRAIL

And, like the other two dogs, Buster had thought things out and realized, in his case, that forceful pointing gets results.

See Buster nose or paw tap Sue’s walking boots. Oh look. See Buster nose or paw tap the treat bottle, the blue leash, the food dish, the coat, the truck keys, his tea cup, Olvatine cup, Sue’s bowl of ice cream, my steak, the front door, the toilet bowl. Go Buster go.

FALL COLOURS ON OUR ROAD

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LIFE HAPPENS

27/9/2019

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CORMORANTS AND A SHY HERON

As you probably know, recently we had a big wind. It hit the coast as a hurricane and then became a tropical storm.

So, what’s the difference between a hurricane and a tropical storm? Well, as one person explained to me, a hurricane has sustained high winds and sounds like a train constantly roaring by.

I assume a tropical storm is like having one freight train roar by, then silence, where a person can feel hopeful and then is hit with disappointment when another train roars by and rips out some of what the other train missed.

TREE ACROSS LANE_WAY

On the positive note, I learned that my chainsaw still starts and that we have very good neighbours.

I had to clear a large tree off our lane-way and a bunch of downed trees off the path that leads to the river. We like to call it our ‘River Path’. Very creative, I must say.

After I cut up the big tree lying across our lane, I went in to start breakfast. That involved cooking on the wood-stove and getting water from the river. We had no power, so no running water for four days.

NO WAY OUT

BLUEBERRY MOUNTAIN FOREST

While eating breakfast I heard a chainsaw. It was a neighbour and his partner cutting up the rest of the tree.

So, I gave him enough gasoline for six hours of generator time and he in turn let us put our frozen food in his freezer.

Also, just before the storm, a neighbour had offered their home as shelter. They live on a mountain and the house is sturdy. It was very kind of them, but we immigrated to another person’s house. She had phoned us earlier and we have stayed there before.

We were glad there were open arms. Everybody in the world could become a refugee at one time or another and open arms are very handy. And truly Christian.

WEB OF LIFE

The problem with writing this blog is there is too much life happening for me to keep up with it.

I was going to write a blog only about my nearly 60 K bike ride between Judique and Port Hastings. It was a memorable day, but so was the tropical storm.

JUDIQUE TRAIL_HEAD

Anyway, on the bike hike day the weather forecast was for a high of 28 and a humidex of 33.

Well, I figured that because the trail ran along the ocean a breeze would cool things down.

However, I packed three bottles of water instead of two. I also brought an extra shirt, just in case. What a laugh. Absolutely and totally unnecessary.

On the trail, as the heat built up, I saw what I thought was an animal sitting on the trail. So, I hopped off my bike and began to walk slowly towards the critter. I would stop from time to time to take photos. The critter never moved. Up ahead, I saw two cyclists approaching from the other direction. It surprised me to see the cyclists pass the animal without the animal fleeing.

MAYBE A TURTLE?

After the cyclists had passed me by, I got on my bike and rode towards the strange beast. If they could do it, so could I.

Well, it was a strange beast indeed. I had to pull out my animal identification book and was able to identify it as a rare orange pylon pot-hole marker.

Four k’s from Port Hastings I discovered that the trail had been washed out. Therefore, I didn’t have to do the full 60 K’s and when I turned back I was happy to be heading home. The humidity had definitely sapped my strength.

FARMER WORKING ALONG TRAIL

I looked for a place to stop and eat my lunch. I found a spot to sit in the shade, where the black flies were plentiful and the mosquitoes roamed free. Here, the bugs and I ate and drank water.

I still had over 20 K’s left to go to get back to the truck and was hoping I was up to the task.

Back on the trail, I cycled and stopped, cycled and stopped. My arms felt heavy and I knew I was reaching my limit.

About ten K from home port, I had used up two bottles of water and was happy I had brought a third.

I stopped once again, my bike and I half crawling to a picnic table where I wiped the sweat out of my eyes and off my face and then took a swig from the last water bottle.

It was a solid non-transparent blue water bottle. I decided to pour the water from it into the clear one that I had been using.

Look out! I could now see the drinking water and it was full of slime swimming merrily, hither and thither.

BUSTER'S FRIEND

I said to myself, “Self, I am going to try and do ten K’s without drinking any more water.”

Which I did, but you see when I’m dehydrated, I lose my voice. So, when I got to the truck and began the drive home, I didn’t stop and buy water. Because I don’t know sign language.

On the way home, I practiced ordering water, but my voice was almost non-existent. It was awol. So, I drove all the way home, approximately 90 K’s, thirsty while meticulously driving the speed limit because I didn’t want to get stopped by a cop and be left dumb-founded and speechless.

MOUNTAIN FOREST

Three billion birds have disappeared from North America in one generation. I assume ours.

It’s a befuddling fuddle duddle what our generation has prioritized. Natural resources. Human resources. Fuddle duddle.

TARA TAKING PHOTOS

Last Sunday, Tara, a friend from Eskasoni, Vince, a friend from Baddeck and myself, a very, very close friend from Middle River, climbed Blueberry Mountain.

We also took a side trip to get a view of Cap Rouge and the climb back to the trail was tres exhausting. The views from both heights were worth the effort though and with change left over.

LARRY, TARA, VINCENT

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