Brett makes lovely creations and displays them in her garden,often on the snow: http://brittarnhildshouseinthewoods.typepad.com/brittarnhilds_house_in_th/. I finished this opus and was feeling pretty proud of myself. I thought about displaying it on the pristine whiteness of the new fallen snow But it was blowing a gale, and the sweater would have eneded up in the Bay. Perhaps Norway has a kinder winter.
This is my potager from the back door. I just opened the door on the weekend and snapped the picture. Deep snow is good for the plants, but spring seems to be a long way off. Except that today it was sunny and above freezing, so there is hope yet.
I drove to Moncton this afternoon to have my little car serviced: water, warer, everywhere, but mostly muddy and mostly on my windshield.
An answer to yesterday's comment: a pressure tank is part of the pumping system I have a deep artesian well with a submersible pump, but to push the water through the house pipes I need a pressure tank. This will be neatly disguised. I wonder what the haddock that carpenter is doing?
I hit the wall, well actually the hallway. There was where I stored the old doors that need to be hung and the wall board that needs to be put up. I couldn't go any further until the baseboards were installed, door frames constructed, plumbing covered and finishing stuff finished. My neighbour carpenter said that he could come in this week and take it on, as well as moving the pressure tank into the parlour. Everyone should have pressure tank in the parlour. This takes it out of the cellar where it is rusting, and it will be hidden in the someday-to-be-constructed entertainment centre. Anyway if it is boxed in with a charming door, I can put a flower vase on top of it. So it was taking it all on or waiting another year until the slower winter months. You grab a carpenter when you can. This is what lines of credit are for, I suppose.
I drive through Parker's Cove on my way to Annapolis Royal. This is my favourite place for fish n chips. We buy them at the take out down the road and drive out on the wharf to eat them. All those left over chips go to the gulls. So here is a boat on land and two boats in the water. The tide is fairly low, but when it is completely out the boats rest on cribs on the bottom, and the water has completely left the moorage. When I was in Northern Ontario what I missed, besides friends and family, natch, was the open water. When I drive over the North Mountain to home and the Bay spreads out before me, it is a special happiness.
I just snapped this picture before I drove back to New Brunswick this morning. I took the picture, and then I got into my little car with my little cats and drove back to my little apartment across the Bay in New Brunswick. Now I know every twist in the road. Yesterday there was snow and rain and sleet and freezing rain and high winds. Today the road was clear. So now I am back online. I took pictures each day when I was home, and I'll put them up in the coming days. Then I can relive my time in my own home. I spent my time painting the bathroom: two coats on the walls and then I looked at the plywood sub flooring. It will be some time before I can afford the flooring, so I took the wall paint and put a coat on the floor. It will keep the dust down and be cleaner until the bathrom can be completed. A sink will also be nice.
I'm heading home tomorrow when the weather clears and the roads become passable. This means that I shall be entering the black hole of no internet - I'll be back mid week if I don't have an opportunity to post sooner than that.
When I was three I crossed the Atlantic twice. This is what I remember:
1. Standing on the deck waving goodbye to my father and my grandfather who were standing on the pier. I loved the streamers that were being thrown off the side. 2. Grapefruits for breakfast: I loved them. They were scarce in the war years and in the years just following. 3. The trio that played at tea time. I was fascinated with the cello. 4. Sheer frustration with my overalls' straps just after I had visited the heads. 5. Standing by the rail and looking down, way down, into the grey Novemeber water, and my mother telling me not to go any closer or I would fall over and never see my father again. 6. The steward bringing me a plate with a rectangle of red jello during s storm at sea. The jello was moving with the ship - back and forth.
So now, sixty years later in less than a month I shall sail across the Atlantic again. It was a dream that I never thought would be realized. And here's the ticket. It might really happen.
I was in Halifax for a seminar at one of the universities yesterday. I took this just before going inside for the class. This is right in the city. I just love Halifax. it has so much to offer, so much to do, and such a pleasant place for doing it.
Vietnamese comfort food for the middle of winter - noodle soup. Underneath the meat, the vegies, the shrimp, the cuttlefish and whatever else are the noodles. I spent last night in Halifax. My daughter-in-law is a fantastic cook, and this is her idea of exactly what we need in the cold damp of a northern maritime city. She's right.
Here are a couple of dreadful pictures from the murder mystery party. There was a murder in Dodgey City - I was the saloon dancer - I was supposed to be dressed in red - but I didn't have anything that was both red and decollete. Suffice it to say that I was not the murderer, although I certainly had a motive. And why are people - especially me - so critical of our own pictures? I see doubled double chins, all sorts of wrinkles and sneaky eyes. It is certainly not how I feel. The camera never lies, but it doesn't show the real underneath me. Maybe I am the mystery.
Down east this was what is called a dirty day. I drove to Saint Martin's, but took no pictures. It was either raining hard or foggy. This plaque was hanging on the hairdressers' wall. I had tentatively voiced the opinion (mistake, I never learn) that perhaps my son could use a comb. I didn't mention a haircut. His reply was that with my hair I really couldn't say anything. (That's the polite version - it was about never seeing my hair look good.) True, as soon as it reaches a certain length it sticks straight out in an unpredictable fashion. Before I went to my seminar in Halifax on Tuesday, I walked into a salon and asked for a haircut - a very short haircut. She obliged. I feel light headed.
These are the pictures that you (well, some of you, maybe) waiting for - or for which you have been waiting. I am heading into Halifax later today for a seminar tomorrow. So it being early in the morning I rummaged in my files and found two pictures left over from an earlier visit to the old dowager queen of a city. These are my sisters. We were all at a coffee shop. One is in full view - and the other - well, those are the eyes looking at you through the display stand. Isn't it amazing how we pin personalities onto pictures? We are three sisters - three "J"s. and three of the best of friends.
Yesterday in Saint John I drove into an underground parking lot, left my coat and wandered through the city from "pedway" to "pedway", never going out of doors. These are two pictures that I took from a cafe table. I looked up to the municipal libray on the seecond floor and at some balloons high above me. I think that I shall have to go back and actually wander the streets and see the outside city.
It was a lovely sunny day and I drove into Saint John to be a tourist. I thought that if anyone ever came to visit me then I would know what to show them. Is anyone ever going to come to visit? This really isn't "The Drive-Through Province".
I went to the museum and was delighted that no admission is being charged for all of February (Better come soon.) I saw the mastodon skeleton. Threre used to be a lot of these beasts around here - but now they're extinct. What a loss! This is one of my particuler grievances. I want there to be mastodons in the woods. Perhaps it was climate change, but we know that the Clovis people hunted them, perhaps to extinction. They have found Clovis spear heads in the skeletons. So when I hear the First Nations folks talk about how they manage the natural resources, I want to reply "But what about the mastodons?"
Then I went to a bistro and had a wonderful full meal - calamaris - which I adore. After all this I found my way to the market and bought my supper and brought it home with me. Tomorrow it's back to work.
I was walking along Main Street. It's my little act of green. So I snapped these icicles. I love their glitter, but the ice is jamming on the roofs.
The kitchen ceiling at the church fell in yesterday. They should sit up and take notice at that one. The ice had jammed and the roof is flat. So the melt found its way down the walls and along the ceiling until... Now with the hole the hot air is moving up to the roof which is leading to more melt and there were a lot of buckets around today. The place is falling down around our ears. This is, of course, the responsibility of a bunch of guys, and the less said the better. Of course, I could have posted a picture of the kitchen ceiling, what's left of it.
It must be February - anything but snow - My sister eamiled me: "One day in the distant future we will reminisce about the good old days when chickens produced eggs – and they were so much better than the modern ones produced by windmills! Even if the modern ones have propellers and can fly right from the box to the pot of boiling water on the stove. And those eggs that go bad and fly right at you and you have to dodge fast just to avoid egg in the face! Makes opening the fridge in the morning quite an adventure!
PS How about flyingeggs ?"
Isn't there something beautiful about an egg? Get cracking.
I go to "Curves" for a workout three times a week. I went Monday and I went today, which means, of course, that I didn't go yesterday. So while I was at home doing prosaic things like boiling eggs for my packed lunches and contemplating the egg box. Yes, the egg box: I took a second glance as it seems that the eggs, from Masstown, Nova Scotia, were produced by wind generation. Whilst I was contemplating the flying feathers, a woman was chasing her husband with a knife in the barber shop nearby to "Curves". The Mounties were called in and finally tazered her into submission. I heard it all on the news this morning and again this afternoon when I went in and got the full story. What happened? Was it a bad haircut? Sussex is so exciting.
I came home just as another storm began to blow it: more cold, more snow - and I didn't take yet another picture of whiteness. I took a picture of the anecdote - actually it was a thimble glass of sherry from a bottle that I took out of the back of the cupboard - it has originally been bought for a recipe and I had forgotten all about it. This was the evening for it.
Now here's my snow hint. If when the snow begins it comes down in large fluffy flakes, it won't amount to much and will be both beautiful and gentle, perhaps even fun. But if it starts sifting down a fine powder - that will accumulate and a storm is developing - so seek shelter, heat and comfort food and perhaps a little love. I made a tuna casserole and tucked in.
On this mommentous day - I have always truly believed that, since there are an awful lot of ground hogs, that each locality has its own little wild critter that pokes its nose out just after dawn on February 2 and then goes back to bed, for either 6 weeks, or 5 weeks and 6 days. Although we never actually see her, we do see our shadows, or not. This year it was sunny and warmer - so shadows - so 6 weeks. It's not over yet.
I wrote this as a commnet on Debbie's blog and then decided that it also suited my own little contribution. Here is evidence of melting snow - dirty snow.
And then there is this furry varmit who hasn't left the sofa all day and evening. Moreover, she hasn't ventured out in days. She is unfamiliar wih ground hogs and a failure at weather prediction. That is except when she washes behind her ears, which is a sure sign of rain.
This is the blue chair from January 18, which my sister recognized and wondered if I was going to return. (Maybe) When she last saw it, it was bright green. Yesterday afternoon I took a hammer to some broken crockery and this is the result. All right - so the teapot wasn't broken, but it was badly stained, cracked and dripped. It met its maker. I could put a similar mosaic on the back, but I would need to break some more dishes, and I don't usually do this delibrately. I was really quite pleased with the result. I need to grout it, but it would need so little compound, that I should see if there is any left in my Nova Scotia home. I don't really recall seeing any. I'll check the next time that I go home.