Well, it’s interesting that Sigmund Freud harkens the psychology of collecting with ties back to toilet training. And in his way, he says that the loss of control and what went down the toilet was a loss we strive to get back by collecting things. Give or take a literal translation of his theory. Continue reading
My friend is an avid hunter. Something I’m not. I don’t deal well with dead animals or the killing of them which makes me a supermarket hunter.
I’ve had talks with my friend about his love of hunting with his pride in providing for his family and pride in the hounorable hunt. In that I learn of his respect for the animals he hunts as well as an abiding wonder as he sees a herd of elk or bears lumbering across the field below his tree stand or a wild turkey by the side of the road. And he shares the excitement of watching deer and seeing a moose lift his huge head as he munches soft meadow greens.
My friend tells me of all this. He sends pictures of the animals he sees as he works in the wilderness of the rocky mountains. He shares a zen with the wildlife around us and when he sent me this picture he was in awe of the wildness and depth his camera caught. I like that about him.
I believe the friendships we are gifted with kind of show up when we need them most for our souls. This sounds all lofty, but think about it…… think about the friendships beyond Facebook friends; the friendship that is there for you alone that isn’t measured by likes. The friendship this little blue bird has with Tanya. Continue reading
Well, maybe I’m not vintage cool, but my sewing machine certainly is! As I took it out to hem the chopped off sleeves of a shirt, I was thinking about the forty years I’ve had this little Genie. Continue reading
I don’t know what people expect you to be doing when you’re not punching the timecard in the 9-5 world. When you’re in between contracts, or stepping slowly into new opportunities (as they say which is also known as job hunting and interviewing and that cycle).
Me? Well, I’ve been doing some creative stuff with flower pots. And watching the news. Lots and lots of news. Continue reading
He said “I found another Agate for you” as he pulled a little rock out of the pocket of his dog-walking jacket and put it on the kitchen counter. Continue reading
It’s not really a gate, but that’s what we call it. “Get the gate and close off the living room. Get the gate and close off the deck.” Keeping toddlers safe from tumbling down deck stairs; keeping muddy dog prints off the carpets. Continue reading
The ever-changing rhetoric from day-to-day, hour-to-hour has our heads spinning wondering what is going on in the mind of Mr. Trump. And before you say anything; yes it does affect us tucked deeply in the Canadian north just as we’re watching the fireworks of his actions interspersed with our northern lights. Continue reading
Well, now I know that 10 x 10 doesn’t necessarily mean 10 x 10. Looking to replace the fabric canopy top of my deck gazebo after several seasons, I find the actual replacement for the model I need on line…..to be shipped from deep in the USA….which is a moot point since it’s out of stock. Okay, finding one that looks just like mine although a different brand name, I order it on-line in Canada and it’s shipped to a local distributor.
It looks like it will work, but the only way to find out is to wrestle it up and on and see. Climbing up on my mini step-ladder onto the glass table (I know…… ) and here is where I found out that 10×10 means 9.5 and won’t squeeze, stretch or in any way fit. That’s a lot of fabric to handle made more interesting as the wind picked up. With visions of showing up on the neighbour’s acreage to rescue my flying canopy top from the side of their garage, I quickly snagged the thing down, folded it up stuffed it back in the bag and took it back to the store.
Step # 3. Just say screw it and buy a new gazebo. Frame and all. Which I did. Thinking the new 10×10 top would fit I once again hefted it up and over the frame and tried it on the existing frame. Big no. Now I’m going to have to build the whole thing. It’s no wonder the frame of the original gazebo never moved. We screwed that baby down to the deck never to move again. I ended up taking the original frame top off with much gnashing of teeth and a few broken nails (damn!) and built the new gazebo inside the old one. Put the top on and voila, a gazebo. If only I could package the fun that was! (Insert sarcasm here.)
The gazebo work was frustrating so mowing the lawn was to be my stress relief because I like to mow the lawn. It’s dandelion
time in my neck of the woods and since I live in the woods on acreage, we don’t use poison on our land; we mow the “lawn” consisting of a mixture of some real lawn grass, some weeds and of course dandelions. This time of year the fields are yellow polka dot quilts with dandelions. Unlike my “townie” friends who have perfectly manicured lawns of green velvet, I live through the dandelion time, into the clover time and then in a good year, green grass until the fall.
The thing about dandelions though, is that they are crafty. Spiteful. They hear the lawnmower coming and lay down like a stunt man flattening himself only to spring right up after the car runs over him. Not only do the dandelions spring back up, they wave their sunshine heads around on long lanky stems a good 3 inches above the freshly mowed stripe of lawn.
It turns me into a dandelion-mowing crazy woman as I go back and forth trying to catch them, losing sight of my quarry as they close up and tuck themselves in for the evening. Come sunup, and HELLO! here we are again. This is the spring-time ritual we dance through until they blow away and make way for clover to feed the bees.
Pulling into the driveway late in the afternoon, I admire my lawn with waving yellow smiles in it and my canopy freshly topping off the gazebo.
My 9 o’clock rabbit was intent on nibbling grass on the edge of the driveway and after looking at me turned away and kept on munching. He usually shows up at 9 0’clock every night for a lawn snack (thus the name) but was out early this afternoon. He perked up as I opened the trunk of my car bursting with bedding plants; flowers and vegetables to transform my world with the magic of garden gloves, dirty knees and the smell of fresh earth.
Heading to the porch with a flat of flowers balanced in each hand, I heard a rustle behind me and turned around to see my rabbit hopping to the car. He stood up and in his little rabbity voice said “hey Sue, sommathatforme?” His nose twitching, giving me a two-toothed rabbit smile.
I said “nope, do your job and eat the dandelions”.
And that was my week so far.
As we hit our teenage years, our Mom is around sometimes like an unwanted appendage weighing us down and sometimes like a crutch holding us up. We’ve all been there; “ohhhhh Mom, really??” and the phone calls “Mom……..it’s me…”.
It’s a hard transition from being a needy child to being a teenager and then to a young parent ourselves doing it our own way. And all along the way our Mom is there trying to fit into our ever changing outlook on what she should be for us. This isn’t a bad thing; it’s a natural progression. Maybe it’s also a natural progression to soften the edges and embrace her with respect and a deep connection as we age along with her, and to long for missed opportunities after it’s too late to take them.
I look at this picture of my Mom from very long ago and wonder what dreams she had. I never asked her. I never knew since we didn’t have much of a relationship beyond my childhood, and then not anywhere close to knowing what she dreamed of. I feel sad for that.
Ask your Mom what she dreams of. Then love her for her dreams.
My friend was driving back to town and found some awesome bears a couple of hours from here. Spring is time for bears to wake up and smell the roses. And eat whatever they can find, and bring babies out.
We are just so blessed to live where we can see this!!
Thanks for sharing, Martin.
dreamingofsquirrels 
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