Larry Gibbons
  • About
  • Blog
  • Contact
  • Reviews

Missing Out

19/9/2014

2 Comments

 
I’ve spent years hiking, mostly by myself. Because I love being alone in the forest. Sitting on a rock, a log, or any piece of natural furniture is more comfortable for me than reclining on expensive furniture in places where I have to be careful about what I say, how I say it, or what I might knock over or spill. However, some couches are more pleasant than others as butt resters.

And lately, the folks up here have decided, and have spread the word around, that I’m a trail guide. Even though I’m not as familiar with this area as I could be. And I’ve met some interesting people on the rugged Cape Breton trails.

Also, I’ve never stopped being amazed at how helpful and friendly the folks up here are. They accept us for who we are and last Sunday we even received an email from a fella who said that Cape Breton was a better place because Sue and I had made it our home. Well, that nearly knocked my socks off. Both of them.

As many of you know, Sue struggles with some chronic diseases, one of which can impede her ability to walk far. But, she gave it the old college try and actually joined our group on a hike to the Uisgeban Falls. It’s a magical place and she didn’t think she would be able to make it all the way. But she did and that’s a feather in her emotional cap. The big surprise was that her post-hike pain was no different than it was before she hiked the trail.  I’m sure many of you are happy to hear that.

Tree clasping rock
Sue's Favourite Tree on Uisgeban Falls Trail
Cape Breton Highlands

Which  brings me to the mentioning of a new book that was recently published: the second edition of  “Guide to Cape Breton Highlands National Park”. The author is Clarence Barrett, a retired Highland Park warden. His first edition was very popular. To write this updated edition, he once again hiked all 26 official park trails and then rewrote his descriptions.

If you’re travelling to Cape Breton this is certainly a book to add to your library. Here’s a link to Parks Canada’s information about the book:
http://www.capebretonpost.com/News/Local/2014-08-24/article-3845394/New-park-guide-edition-being-launched-this-week/1

old Mac computerMy old Mac
 I got a new computer for my birthday. Happy birthday to me… and that’s one of the reasons that this blog is late. Excuses, excuses, excuses. But, I have been tearing my ^*%&^%$ hair out trying to get up to speed so I can just plain sit down on my asteroid and write this blog and other things that I tap out on a computer keyboard.

However, I do try to get a blog out every two weeks or so. I know folks who have a blog out almost every day. Which I’ve heard is an excellent way to keep your readership up. It might also be an excellent way to empty your idea coffers, or at least mine.

One thing I try to do is respond to comments made on my blog. If you don’t get one from me then it’s because my comments didn’t get through or my website machine wouldn’t let me. You see, I’m relatively new to the blog world and sometimes I try to respond but I can’t get it to work. I think it’s because I don’t have all the blog ins and outs down pat. So, I apologize now for any comments I haven’t been able to respond to. I tried. Really.

Oh, and if you write a response please make sure you add your email address if you think I don’t have it. It’s supposed to come to me through the website, but doesn’t always seem to make it.

Anyway, back to the new computer. Cripes, I got so used to my old Mac. It’s twenty years plus old. It’s been everywhere, man. Had lots of sticky fingers tapping and thunking on its keyboard. Had plenty of little kids playing computer games on it and it has been dropped once or twice.


PictureMy New Mac
Oh woe is me, though. It’s not easy trying to master this new computer and I will give you an example.

I am, if you haven’t already suspected, a person who uses more of the creative side of my brain than my not creative side. Surprise, surprise.

Now as you might have read in an earlier blog, I bought myself a new camera. Only a little over a month ago, I think. It’s digital with all the funny-pictures-on the-screen stuff and with  knobs,  buttons or cranks spotted all over its smooth, black body.

And I have, as mentioned earlier, become known as a trail guide. So this means that I get to guide hikers into the forest. And, during the hike, I take pictures so that the fella who runs the recreational activities in Victoria County, (that’s the county I live in), gets to see pictures of the hikers and the beautiful places we walk in. He often posts them or pins them to his ‘wall of shame’.

So, I go home after a hike and hook my camera up to my new computer. Sue used to do this but now this technologic fledgling, who is me, has jumped off the tree and has ever since been wildly flapping his wings, bouncing off pixels and leafy start buttons and repeatedly crash-landing into digital bushes. Over and over again.

(*&^@%#$%&!!!! I mean, Sue used to be able to take my articles from my twenty-something-year-old computer and put them into her computer and her computer would translate the ones and zeros into an understandable language and then send it out over the internet or print it out for me. Now her computer looks at my new computer’s efforts, shrugs its shoulders and spits out these nasty, impossible to understand, bits and pieces of bits.

Yesterday Sue, whose computer acumen and expertise I trust, looked at one of my attempts and its pathetic appearance on her computer screen and said, “This is scary.”


Does one have to be a mind reader to understand some of the computer jargon?

I’ll give you a specific example.

To get the pics to my computer I have to hook my new K50 camera up to Mac. I use a thin black cord called a USB cable. The next thing I do is turn on my camera. Why do I turn on my camera now instead of before? I don’t know. Because it’s says in the Bible somewhere?

Then there’s a little box that pops up on my computer which I have to click on to IMPORT my photos. I was told this was the button I had to click on using my mouse. And that’s another story. The mouse, that is.

The pix are then supposed to slide along the inside of the cord and pour into some empty picture station where a tiny zit gets them to line up and stand at attention in order of entry .

This IMPORT box did not make sense to me.  So I asked Sue where the EXPORT box was.

You must use your imagination to see a vision of the expression on Sue’s face when I asked this question. But come on. I took economics in high school.  I was taught that if you live in Canada and you ship products to other countries you are exporting them. If you are receiving products from other countries then you are importing them. Do you understand?

You see, my photographs are coming from my camera. My camera was here first. I figured that I was therefore from the Camera Country. Oh Camerada, we stand on guard for thee, and I was sending out pictures to the strange place called MacBook Pro. So therefore, am I not exporting pictures?


So, how the hell am I supposed to know which place is my country and which place is not my country? How can I sort out import and export if I don’t know this? For poop sake, I’m dyslexic and this doesn’t even begin to make sense to me.

Oh god, I have so much to learn about the camera, let alone the computer. Have you noticed a change in mood in this blog? A little more hesitation in the sentence structure? Words that don’t sound so appropriate?

Where the hell is the thesaurus in this new computer? Maybe it dropped out when I took Mac out of the box. I mean when I buy a hammer, I don’t want to have to spend a long time learning how to use it before I can bang nails into wood. I just want to bang nails into wood.


Then there is my stacked-to-the-throat-with-new-gizmos camera. I’ll tell you how much I have to learn about this wonderful toy.

A friend from Australia was visiting. She has a good quality tiny camera. A quick shot thing which you can carry in your pocket like a pet Chihuahua.  Anyway, we were talking about our individual cameras. I think we got to talking about the flash. This is where I pulled out the manual for my camera.  It’s thick.

She asked me, “How many different languages is your manual written in?”

I said, “One *&^% LANGUAGE. English.”

 It’s a friggen Stephen King novel full of Cujo mumbo jumbo. Like import, export, four way controller, JPEG, RAW, Button Customization.

I have been told that I should take up writing manuals for people like me. Ha.


***
         Let’s stop and think; Let’s know and feel

         That things like these are truly real,

         Yes, think how very rich are we

          When all the best of things are free.


                                                                John Martin, “These Things Are Free”
***
textingTexting
I do think the virtual world is amazing, but sometimes I think it’s too enchanting and addictive. For example, there have been many times when I’ve been sitting outside on the patio of a local coffee shop. I’ve sat and watched the tourists and the locals bustling about or sitting at the little metal tables, drinking their drinks and eating their treats. Many of them, and I mean many of them, (sometimes even including me),  are staring at their little prissy machines. Using their fingers to punch or rub commands into the magical virtual world that is hypnotizing so many of us.

Sometimes I’ve seen young couples at tables under romantic lighting, texting.  And I’m sure they’re sometimes texting to each other. Whatever happened to the touching of hands? Leaning over for a little kiss? Rubbing your footsie up your lover’s leg? Now it’s being done with pixels.

“Oh honey, ooxx.”

“Yes, baby, XXXXXOO.”

“More, more.”

“XOXOXOXOXOXOIIIIIooooxx”


And while  this human interaction in all its forms are going on, I’ve watched the crows, sitting on the power lines above the street, or on the post office roof or the steeple on the church, cawing their asses off. I can tell there’s some form of drama going on up nearer the sky.

They’re making different sounds or are buzzing each other and generally making a racket. I then take a look around at the flocks of pristine viewers and non-pristine viewers and nary a one is paying any attention. Not one. All caught up in their people or virtual world. Maybe some are even looking at the crows through their virtuals or are gazing at pixel crows on Google.

Which makes me think.  Gets me wondering what would happen if this natural world, to which we don’t pay much attention, just vanished?  How lonely this world would be if everyone was totally focused on the virtual world and on the human world and paid no mind to the real time world of wild others.

And what would happen if it got to the point where everybody was almost exclusively hooked up? Got to the point where we would all, for example, be checking the weather on our machines or on something imbedded inside our eye balls. Swirling our fingers down the little doo-dad screens, or poking ourselves in the eyeballs to find out whether we are going to get snow today, while outside our window there is a hell of a snow storm dumping all over our yards.

Just wondering.


“What is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone,  men would die from great loneliness of spirit, for whatever happens to the beasts also happens to man. All things are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the children of the earth.”

                                                                                                                                      Chief Seattle

Skyway Trail
Sunset on the Skyway Trail
2 Comments

A Nutty Conversation

18/3/2014

1 Comment

 
Cape Breton WinterCape Breton Winter
You may have noticed from reading my last fifteen blogs, that my life isn’t normal. But then, how could it be arse-tight conventional, when we live in a forty-five foot, what looks like an industrial trailer, situated in a snow belt, at the base of the Highlands? Is that possible?

I try. Oh, how I try to be cool and not draw attention to myself. However, sometimes, because I live in the bush, (where I like being), I find myself going into the village and spraying my conversation at everyone near and far. It’s as though the words are stored up and when I get a chance to use them, I do. Then I return home and run the conversations over in my head, and holy crow! Did I say that? Did I say this? What a moron!

So, no matter how hard I try to act like cool, deep-voiced Gregory Peck, I fail, and I will give you one example of my not being cool. Only one, because I don’t like making my blog too long. (The blog regulations can be found in the blog/twitter/selfie manual.)

Last Tuesday night. Yes, let’s take last Tuesday night. I’m chewing on another weather-related decision. I have plenty of them. This time I’m asking myself, do I or don’t I drive to the hockey arena? Because it’s pounding snow out. However it’s not windy. So probably not going to be blizzardy.

Anyway, at seven pm, I decided to drive over the lonely, snow- and-ice-covered mountain road to Baddeck
.
Now, as I may have mentioned, my snow blower, Grinder, was in the hospital for quite a time. However, it was recently returned with a new problem. Now the augers won’t stop turning, even when I’m not asking them to. But they do turn, which is an improvement of sorts.

I said to Sue, “I’m used to buying a second-hand piece of machinery and having it gradually accumulate a list of mechanical eccentricities, but I’m not used to buying a brand new machine and having it, almost immediately, fill out a roster sheet of problems.”
snowed underSnowed Under
So, the lane isn’t cleared of snow and our vehicles are parked two hundred meters down at the end of our lane. That means I need a flashlight, because, when I return from my hockey game, the spruce-bordered lane will be as dark as a horse’s artistic tendencies.
Well, I drove to the arena. It was a nail-biting trip at times and I saw two separate places where it looked like a vehicle had gone off the road.

Whenever I’m in the arena, I somehow morph into becoming a hockey player. In my mind, I take on my hockey player persona. A combination of Gregory Peck and Davy Keon. He was a great centre for the Toronto Maple Leafs.

I turn on my flashlight. Poke its light around in the back of Basque’s cap so I can find my two hockey sticks. I find them, pull them out, then fetch my hockey bag from the front of my truck. I like it to ride in the cab with me. It’s a good conversationalist and the truck heater warms its contents.

I decide, rather than putting my flashlight back in the truck, which I always do, I’ll put it in my pocket. It's warmer in the arena and therefore the battery will be stronger and more energetic.

I haul my sticks and hockey bag into the cold arena and then into the warmer locker room. Because of the bad driving, only three players have arrived. It’s getting late. I plunk my equipment down. I’m pumped. I’m the man. The not-really-so-good-any-more hacker player. Ready for the game, if there is going to be a game.


As I’m standing in my straight and true hockey pose, a fellow hockey player casually says, “You have a flashlight in your pocket.”

Big deal, I think. I pull it out of my pocket, to show him it really is an authentic, two-battery flashlight. But when I take it out of my pocket, I’m surprised, and somehow not surprised, to see the flashlight shining forth in all its brilliance. My goodness, I must have looked funny, strutting around while the flashlight shone out of my pocket. Like a walking lighthouse.

Last year, one fella, who had only shown up for one game, asked me if I had stayed in Cape Breton and played hockey the whole year. When I said, “Yes, I’ve played the whole year in Baddeck,” he said, “Oh damn! I missed all the fun.”


Picture
Now, what did he mean by that? I think I know, but it’s not just me. I have a weird computer too. It’s over twenty years old. Maybe twenty-five years old and I bought it second-hand a long time ago.

Do some of you want a name for my computer? Okay, how about “Percy Macintosh”?

Percy has a word-changing feature. You know, if I want to change a name from “Tom” to “John”, I just fill in the existing name and the name I want to replace it with and hit Change-all. Then my whole manuscript has the name “Tom” changed to “John”. Can be a thousand “Toms” and they will all zap to “Johns” in a matter of seconds.

One day, not so long ago, I decided to change a character’s name from “Ken” to “Calvin”. Hundreds of Kens lurked inside my manuscript. So, I clicked on “Edit”, wrote in “Ken” and “Calvin” and hit Change- all. Voila, all my Kens were Calvins, and I was hoping it wasn’t too traumatic for Ken, and for poor Calvin, who must have felt a few pounds heavier.

Everything went well. Except, Percy is very, very efficient. Possibly too efficient. So he conscientiously changed all Kens into Calvins.

Example: She hung her tocalvin around her neck.

Example: She said to poor Bob, “Sorry Bob, but I am already spocalvin for.”

Example: Larry wasn’t a very good hockey player and ended up with a brocalvin arm.

My god, it changed every darn “ken” in every darn word.

“Oh, excuse me, Mr. Computer, I think you have a flashlight sticking out of your stupid pocket.” Hardy, har.

A few weeks ago, I was in the trailer by my lonesome. Sue was in town. I went into the bedroom to get something out of the closet. I opened the door and heard a funny chirping sound. It stopped. I hit the closet door. It chirped and squeaked. It stopped. I kicked the wall. Heard a cackling sound. I went to the other wall, near the phone, which broke down last week, gave the wall a knock and heard the tattling, crackling, dripping noise. My god, do we have squirrels or ghosts in our walls?

I walked to the living room. Listened. Nothing. I stomped on the floor. From the bedroom came the weird, playing-a-horn sound, a squeak and something like the sound of dripping water from a tap. I walked back to the bedroom and as I went to knock on the wall, a crow flew away from below the window.

Picture
It was our friendly crow, who now had decided to hold a conversation with me through the walls. This crow often follows me down the lane and along the road. As a matter of fact, this crow followed me around the first day we moved in. He must have been curious.

One afternoon, he was sitting in a spruce tree sounding off. The tree grows close to our woodshed. I went there to fetch some wood, and when I opened the door, I found a poor red squirrel, standing in the middle of the room. He was pleading with me not to evict him.

You see, the wood pile is getting smaller. So, I was literally about ready to break into his home, hidden in the last row of wood. Poor squirrel. I felt sorry for him. And maybe the crow did too, and when I went to bed, I got worrying about whether I should make another home for the squirrel to live in. It was still very cold out
.
squirrel gnaiwng on moose skull
Squirrel gnawing for minerals on our old moose skull
I even said to Sue, “Maybe next year we should buy three and a half cords of firewood. That way, the squirrel will have a permanent winter home. Rent-free.”

Which I know sounds rather funny to some folks, because what many folks do is pop them off for trespassing. Which makes me wonder about who was there first, but I won’t go into that.

So, see what happens when you live in the bush too long? But maybe it’s good to have shining flashlights in your pockets and peeping-tom crows, and snow blowers that don’t follow new snow blower rules and computers which are overly conscientious. Because it means there will always be wacky material to draw from. At least enough to keep this blog going.

Anyway, I like surprises, inconsistencies, wackiness and the humour that arises from these incidents.

Sydney Cox wrote in his book, Indirections for Those Who Want to Write, "Humour frisks the minute to make incompatibles unite. (We earnest people - whom atom bombs and dated obligations to salvage civilization keep on the jump and on the dot - miss that “waste of time.)"

Have any of you found yourselves being wacky without trying?


PictureMountain view of Gold Brook Rd
View of our road from halfway up mountain
1 Comment

Duh!

22/9/2013

2 Comments

 
Now that I have a website, you’d think I’d know lots about blogs. And I’d be getting proficient at reading other people’s blogs because my brain is blog-trained. I could relax in the belief that I am blog knowledgeable.

Unfortunately, NOT! Take last week for example. Please. It’s yours. Anyway, there I was, reading my blogs. I like reading my own blogs. It’s like somebody else wrote them. And I like looking at the pictures. They look so clear and crisp and real, if I’m sitting at the correct height and the computer screen is tipped at the proper angle. If not, well then, I need IT support, but I’m getting there.

So, last week I was reading my blog. I started at blog four and worked my way down to blog one. That’s how it works. Top is the last blog I wrote and bottom is the first blog I wrote. Are you taking notes?

Picture
Anyway, I happened to notice that the first blog I wrote, which was at the bottom of the screen, was fainter than the other three blogs. Did I also notice that the second blog I wrote was, possibly, a little fainter than the other two? This I was not sure about. Could have been my imagination. 

I quickly analyzed the incoming data and said to Sue, my editor- in-chief, “It’s interesting how those blog people worked this thing out. They control how many blogs I have in the website by gradually fading out the earliest ones until they fade away. That must be so they can fit all my blogs into the computer.” 

Like they were geniuses. Sitting up in heaven, controlling all the blogs in the whole universe. Still having time to specifically limit how many blogs I personally can squish into my very own website.

 “No, that’s not it,” Sue, my editor-in-chief, explained. “I used a lighter font for the first one. That’s why it’s more faded.”

“Oh. Well, shoot me down and pass the beer.” Duh.

However, would you do me a favour? When you read my blogs, would you please take a little peek at some of the earlier ones to see if they’re fading out on your computer? I’m not totally convinced. 

Picture
Buddy Lee in Mabou
2 Comments

    Recent Posts

    Archives

    November 2022
    October 2022
    September 2022
    July 2022
    June 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    March 2022
    January 2022
    November 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    July 2021
    June 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    August 2013
    July 2013

    Categories

    All
    Aaron Schneider
    Abigail Thomas
    Aboriginal Culture
    Aldon Nowlan
    Alistair MacLeod
    Amos R. Wells
    Answering Machines
    Antigonish
    Antigonish Harbour
    Authors
    Autumn Beauty
    Baddeck
    Ballad Of Winky
    Bats
    Beer
    Bible Reading
    Bible Verses
    Bikes
    Bird Feeders
    Birds
    Black And Decker Tools
    Black Flies
    ‘Black Water’
    Blizzards
    Blogging
    Blue Jay
    Boarding Kennel
    Book Launch
    Book Review
    Books
    Brown Bat
    Building Bookshelves
    Bullfrog
    Buster
    Buster Wear
    Cabot Trail
    Cameras
    Canso Causeway
    Cape Breton
    Cape Breton Beauty
    Cape Breton Books
    Cape Breton Highlands
    Cape Breton Highlands National Park
    Cape Breton Music
    Cape Breton Trails
    Cats
    CBC Interview
    Cell Phones
    Chain Saw
    Chaos
    Charles Hanson Towne
    Chief Seattle
    Clarence Barrett
    Clear-cut Recovery
    Climate Change
    Coltsfoot
    Computer Frustrations
    Computer Jargon
    Confucious
    Consumers
    Cottage Activities
    Country Life
    Coyotes
    Creativity
    Crocs
    Crows
    C.S. Lewis
    Customer Service
    Cycling
    Dancing Goat Coffee Shop
    David Boyd
    David Woods
    Deer
    Denise Aucoin
    Dentist
    Dentists
    D.H. Thoreau
    Dog Food
    Dogs
    Dog Training
    Dog Walking
    Dog Whisperer
    Driving In Blizzards
    Druids
    Dry Rot
    Earwig
    Eastern Coyotes
    Economists
    Editor
    Editors
    ED’S BOOKS AND MORE
    E.J. Pratt
    Election ID
    Elpenor
    Enerson
    Evening Grosbeaks
    Exercise
    Extractions
    Ezra Pound
    Fall Colours
    Family Holiday
    Family Life
    Farley Mowat
    Field Mouse
    Finite Vs Infinite
    Firewood
    Fishing
    Flood Plain
    Floods
    Flower Gardens
    Flying Squirrel
    Fog
    Forest
    Fox
    Freddy The Pig
    Freedom
    Friends
    Friendship
    Frontenac Provincial Park Ontario
    Fundamentalists
    Fungus
    Gamay Wine
    Gazebo
    George Eliot
    George Horace Lorimer
    Glotheri
    Goats
    Gold Brook Road
    Goldfish
    Grandchildren
    Green Cove
    Grocery Shopping
    Grosbeaks
    Halifax
    Halloween
    Hawks
    High Junction Gymnastics
    Hiking
    Hiking Boots
    Hiking Trails
    Hildegarde Of Bingen
    Hints Of Winter
    Hornets
    Horses
    Houdini
    Human Capital
    Humes Falls Hike
    Hummingbirds
    Humour
    Huron-philosophy
    Hurricane-arthur
    Ingonish
    Inspiration
    Interviews
    Invasive Plants
    Inverness
    Inverness Trail
    James Joyce
    James Thurber
    Jealousy
    Jennifer Bain
    Jesus The Carpenter
    J.K. Rowling
    Joachim-Ernst Berendt
    John Martin
    John Muir
    John O'Donohue
    John Oxenham
    John Updike
    Joy Of Spring
    K-50 Pentax Camera
    Karen Shepard
    Kingston
    Knotty Pines Cottages
    Lake O' Law
    Language And Politics
    Larry Sez Again
    Lego Toys
    Lewis Carrol
    Life Cycles
    Lily Tuck
    Lion
    Literary Magazines
    Little Clear Lake
    "Local Hero"
    Lord Alfred Tennyson
    "Lord Of The Flies"
    Love
    Lynda Barry
    Mabou
    Mabou Shrine
    MacBook Pro
    Machines
    Magic Realism
    Margaree
    Margaree Forks
    Margaret Fuller
    Marion Bridge
    Marion Zimmer Bradley
    Maritime Mac
    Marketing
    Mary Tallmountain
    Merrill Markoe
    Mica Mountain
    Mice
    Microphones
    Middle River
    Middle River Wilderness
    Mike Youds
    Mi'kmaq
    Mini-homes
    Mobile Homes
    Moose
    Morris Mandel
    Mosquitoes
    Mother
    "Mother Canada"
    Mother Mary
    Moths
    Mountain Climbing
    Mountains
    Mouse
    Mouse Traps
    Muse
    Nature
    Neighbours
    No Great Mischief
    NS
    NS Library
    Ocean Waves
    Old Trailers
    Omnibus Bill
    ON
    Ontario
    Orwellian Language
    Oscar Wilde
    Panhandlers
    PeachTree Inn
    Pentax K50 Camera
    Perversion Of Language
    Pet Dog
    Pileated Woodpecker
    Pine Siskins
    Playing Poker
    Poems
    Poetry
    Political Power
    Port Hood
    Privy / Outhouse
    Profanity In Fiction
    Promoting Books
    Punctuation
    Purple Finches
    Qur'an
    Raven
    Red-wing Blackbirds
    Rejection
    Remembrance
    Renovations
    Reviews
    Rita Joe
    River Lessons
    Rivers
    Robert Frost
    Roethke
    Rules
    Salman Rusdie
    Satellite Dish
    Sharon Butala
    Sherry D. Ramsey
    Short Stories
    Short Story Anthologies
    Short Story Contests
    Short Story Tips
    Skiing
    Skyline Trail
    Skyway Trail
    Snow
    Snow And More Snow
    Snow Belt
    Snowblower
    Snow Blower
    Snowshoeing
    Snowshoes
    Social Media
    SPCA
    Speculative Fiction
    Spiders
    Spirituality
    Spring Peepers
    Squirrels
    Sri Chinmoy
    Stations Of The Cross
    Stephen King
    Storms
    Storytelling
    Stoves
    Stress
    Subjectivity
    Sukie Colgrave
    Summer Activities
    Sunday Breakfasts
    Susan Zettell
    Suzi Hubler
    Swarms Of Mosquitoes
    Sydney
    Sydney Cox
    Technology
    Texting
    "The Great Gatsby"
    "The Murder Prophet"
    Theodore Roethke
    The Saga Of The Renunciates
    “The Subtlety Of Land”
    Third Person Press
    Thoreau
    Titles
    Tolstoy
    Tomas Transtromer
    Toothaches
    Totalitarian Regimes
    Tradesmen
    Trailer
    Trail Guide
    Tree Planting
    Trucks
    Trump's Foreign Workers
    Truro Train Station
    T. S. Eliot
    T.S. Eliot
    Twitter
    Uisgeban Falls
    Used Bookstores
    Veterinary
    Victoria County
    Victoria Standard
    Vincent Scully
    Virtual World
    Vocabulary
    Wabi Sabi
    Wallace Stevens
    Walter Brookes
    Walter Whitman
    Walt Whitman
    War Memorials
    Warren Lake Cape Breton
    W.H. Auden
    "White Eyes"
    Wildlife
    William Blake
    William Carlos Williams
    William Noble
    Wills
    Wind
    Winter Beauty
    Wood Stoves
    Wreck Cove
    Writers
    Writing
    Writing And Playing
    Writing And Soul
    Writing Business
    Writing Contests
    Writing Drafts
    Writing Fiction
    Writing Tips
    Yearbook
    Yeast Infection
    Yellow Jackets
    Zen

    Archives

    November 2022
    October 2022
    September 2022
    July 2022
    June 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    March 2022
    January 2022
    November 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    July 2021
    June 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    August 2013
    July 2013

    Subscribe to Larry Gibbons - Blog by Email
Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.