TOO MUCH BLOG MATERIAL

EARLY MORNING GATHERING

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“Looking back over the first 50 years of my career, I can find nothing that I have done that is worthwhile. At the age of 73 I have at last arrived at the point where I can perceive the true form and characteristics of birds, animals and plants. Thus my true life as an artist is just beginning.”
                     Katsushika Hokusai 
Maybe there’s hope for me.

WALKING ON RED ISLAND BEACH

After I posted the last blog I said to Sue, “Sometimes, I barely get a blog out when another blog pops up.” 

Because, after I posted the blog and only a few days later, I was, against my will, sliding down an icy mountainside. 

​What happened is that on Sunday we hiked one of Jalal’s mountain trails. The hike began with us wearing ordinary foot-wear, part way up it became foot-wear with spikes and then it became foot-wear with spikes while hanging onto a long rope.

HANGING ONTO THE ROPE

However, once we got to the top we were treated to a gorgeous view.

​On the way back we took what was called the easier route. Part way down, the easier route became the harder route. The soft fluffy snow became hard icy snow. So, there was Vincent and I hugging a tree while Jalal, who was wearing mountaineer’s spikes on his boots, cautiously worked his way down the icy mountain. He used his spikes to smash foot-holds into the ice for us. It was almost impossible for me to break the ice and snow with my pointed ski pole.

ENJOYING THE VIEW

Then it was our turn to put our footsies into his foot-holds and very carefully work our way down. On our asses. I, in a moment of induced stupor, removed my mitts. I thought this might give me a better hand-grip if I needed my hands to grip something.

​Anyway, I managed to get my wide-toed boot into one foot-hold and then it was free-Willy. I was sliding down the mountain-side, on the Sabbath even. Quickly gaining speed and without knowing whether to pray to God or be an atheist and mentally arrange my books while I whipped through a mountainous cartoon world.

ENJOYING THE VIEW THROUGH THE MAGIC RECTANGLE

As I careened down the mountain I managed to grab a tiny fir tree with my bare hand. My hand slid up its prickly trunk, because I couldn’t keep my hold on the poor little fella. My burning hand lost its grip as I continued on my down-ward journey. However, this action did slow me down some.

​Next stop was, maybe, going to be a big tree. I know I was aiming for it and quite aware that hitting the tree could possibly stop my trip but also involve broken bones or worse.

However, if I missed it, I was going to be skidding on down the mountain until I crashed into the forest many feet below.

​I’m not sure whether my mental book arranging, my quickly tossed out prayer or coincidence helped, but just before I hit the tree I ran into soft fluffy snow and my ride was over.

TOREY INTELLIGENTLY DECIDES NOT TO CLIMB ANY FURTHER

STAYING CLOSE TO A TREE

I then checked my bleeding hands and wiggled my slightly dislocated middle finger while wondering how long the tingling and burning of the nerves in my hands would last. Would I have been able to slow myself down by grabbing the little tree if I had been wearing my big mitts?
Anyway, I noticed that, otherwise, I was still in pretty good shape.

​I felt sorry for Vincent who was still hanging onto the tree. My ride had been sudden and scary, but it was over. I     could now relax and think about my next blog.

Luckily, Vincent was better at it than me and was able to avoid a fun ride down the mountain. 

The end of the hike had a happy ending. We all ended up in Jalal’s kitchen where we were given a great meal. Some of the best chicken I’ve ever tasted.

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THE KITCHEN

The slide down the mountain-side would probably have been my next blog, but I barely had time to think about it when on Thursday it began to rain. It rained and rained for three days and three nights. Buster was all for going out and bringing in two of every creature that lived near-by.

A WEE EDDY OF FLOOD WATER

On Friday morning we went for a drive. The river was roaring by and we wanted to get away. We didn’t want to have to worry and watch the rising water. We drove around for about an hour and a half. Drove through some big puddles, crossed some partially washed out dirt roads, stopped for an Iced Cap, the lawyers be damned, and then we headed home.

RIVER GETTING ANGRY

When we pulled into our laneway and turned the corner we saw that our lane was being torn apart by the rising water. The water was bubbling and ripping away at the lane, specially where it flowed into our pond. I gritted my teeth, drove through the rising water and saw that there was already a foot of water on our lawn. We jumped into the water, Buster in my arms, rushed to the trailer, grabbed some stuff and quickly got back into the truck before we’d have to swim.

FLOODED LANEWAY

I learned, once again, that the river and water in general is unpredictable. Because, even though the river did flood its banks, it wasn’t the river that caused damage to our laneway. It was run-off from the mountains.

I think the river also took a hard right before it passed our trailer. This may be due to the beaver dam. 
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WATER MOVES IN

To end this story, we stayed at a friend’s house for one night and as I sat in a chair at our friend’s house, I wondered what my next blog was going to be about now that I had another adventure to think about. 

​And a day later I decided that I wasn’t going write a blog about how our washing machine wasn’t co-operating. ‘F’ it.

NEW PARKING SPOT GIFT FROM THE MIDDLE RIVER

​Oh yes, and I think we have a squirrel or some animal larger than a mouse inside. Something was squeaking and gnawing behind my head when I was sitting in my chair and twice there has been an awful racket somewhere inside our trailer. 

“F” it!

​Yesterday, I had to shout at a squirrel who was trying to gnaw his way into our deck’s inner sanctum.

“F” it.

BROOK ON TOREY'S PROPRTY

Today, although I said “F” it to writing about the squirrel, I will mention that I had to cover a hole in the dryer vent, screw a board over a hole near the water heater and put chicken wire over the outside port to the dryer.
"F" it all!

LOOKING AT THE BROOK