the gazebo, dandelions and the 9 o’clock rabbit

IMG_4151.jpg

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 dandelion13f41319b78c6c8366ab2c8a6e1aa2d756354b0d.jpeg 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.

Unknown.jpeg

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.

 

 

 

hello there, Bear!

IMG_1625.JPG

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.

IMG_1587.JPG

We are just so blessed to live where we can see this!!

Thanks for sharing, Martin.

Photos courtesy of Martin Istok

9 people, 6 days, a tribe and a mug

IMG_4143 (1).JPG

9 people in a room for six days.  Like really, really in a room.  Not leaving. And days are 12-14 hours long. That’s what it means to work for our election as an officer facilitating advanced voting opportunities for the masses.

I don’t care who you are, it still takes a big inhale and twinge of expectation and anticipation mixed up with the tiny insecurities we all pack around when you commit to in this case, 6 days of intense group dynamics.  Continue reading

Peggy’s house

IMG_2286.jpg

 

I played at Peggy’s house most of the time, or any other neighbour’s house for that matter.  I’m trying hard to think of my friends playing at my house and I can’t remember that.  It was only my brother, sister and I at our house but we had the run of the Woodlawn neighbourhood that we rode our bikes through as if it was our world.  And it was.  We would meet up “in the field by Peanut Butter Hill” the dip that bucked us off our bikes regularly and we would ride through the scotch broom listening to the snap and pop of the seed pods spitting at us.  Continue reading

perspective

IMG_3671.jpg

I remember a conversation with a friend when I said “I just don’t know where I fit” and the response was “well, right here. That’s where”.  This past few months since leaving the teams I was working with, it’s been a bit of a stress and pressure and an overwhelming feeling that I have to find a new “fit”.

Any time there’s a big change we struggle to find a place that doesn’t bind or pinch or slosh around like an overfilled wading pool. Maybe the fit is in our perspective of our here and now.  Maybe it’s ok to step back and change perspective.

A walk in the Ancient Forest near my house is healing and inspiring. Offering a note to be taken that today is a tiny piece of everything; that it’s ok to just breathe and be.

 

 

dog walking

a255d4d67fa4a97eab4c689dcf910f450496068a.jpegFor a good part of the year they walk in the dark because the winter  brings short days up here.  Heading out with the flashlight, gloves, scarves, puffy coats and big boots, Mark and Jasmine leave very early every morning on their route around the neighbourhood.

With the change in seasons, out comes the bear spray to be packed for the surprise encounter  hoped not to be surprised with.  Sniffing takes Jasmine much longer with the melting of snow as critters are on the move and interesting poop needs to be sniffed and pondered with hackles raised.  Coyotes and even cougars and wolves pooping by the side of the road and of course bears pooping in the middle as they like to do.

With Jasmine’s incredible sight, she looks ahead down the road at things we don’t even notice until a deer leaps across the road or a grouse flaps up out of the ditch in its attempt at a graceful takeoff.

A mama fox denned up to have her babies over the bank along the walking trail a couple of years ago and Jasmine was very aware they were there.  She could hear the little ones first mewing and then yipping as they grew.  Soon there were baby foxes popping up on the top of the bank to watch her walk by; Blondie, the one Mark figured was a girl because she was so flirty, and Blackie, the gutsy little teasing one with the others in and out of their den.

Because Jasmine is on leash, there is no chasing, no lunging at the foxes.  It was more of a curiosity both ways…… you look kind of like me….but not, and foxes are really curious little beings.   You yip and bark like me…..but not. She looked for the foxes every day and watched them grow over the spring and summer. She’s  seen them in the times since around the neighbourhood maybe with a flicker of recognition as they look at each other.

The walks Mark takes are a time capsule in some ways.  He walked miles with our black lab Benjamin and then with the dogs together as Jasmine came to live with us, and then with Jasmine alone when Benjamin was gone.   The other dog walkers know how time works too. Mark comes back and talks about the day Bruce was walking alone when his dog first was too sick and then gone.  About how the blind german shepherd follows the others along on the walk with the family. And he sees the time start again with Angel, a little fluffy white puppy added to the group as she grows and grows into her impressive Pyrenean Mountain Dog breed size.

Dog walks are a start to the day with quiet time of crunchy snow steps and  the tick-tick of claws filing down on gravel.  Of time to think and be. To nod at the others as they pass or stop and chat while the dogs sniff and wag tails.

IMG_2470.JPGMark and Jasmine at BobTail Lake 2017.

It  really hasn’t changed much over the years. Guys still  head out with their best friends for long walks every day. And it’s so good.