Simple Not Easy

Bed of Moss

2012-01-26T12:25:00.001-08:00

The Big Bad Me

2012-01-24T20:40:00.002-08:00

I had an interesting experience this past week. A friend told me that another friend had taken information I'd shared about a third friend's illness as a criticism of him and had immediately gone to the ill person to expand upon and report my "treachery". Some unrelated incidents were apparently remembered from the past and tossed on the fire until these two had built a roaring case of big bad Deb.

The reporter then went on to confirm that two others are spreading rumors about the content of my character, or more to the point - my connection to reality. Anyone who knows me well knows I am crazy silly, in a good way, but I'm pretty grounded in reality. However, there's a territorial imperative at play there.

In years past I'd have gone blazing to defend myself and confront these gossiping tongues and slanderers, but I guess all these years of meditation has (finally - thankfully) diminished my sense of self-importance. What's said about me is not so important. People will form their own opinions of me from dealing with me.

People who find it delicious or satisfying to speak ill of others are driven by a need to dissipate tension, relieve their anxiety, or build up their own egos or position in other's eyes. I've been in that state myself, and I always felt soiled afterwards, and ashamed.

Being free of the need to defend myself is liberating. There's no feeling of anger, and no pain that I've been "betrayed" by a friend. I don't have to change how I deal with these friends.

I like feeling like this. I'm hoping I can hang onto it.

A Simple Gift

2012-01-18T16:07:00.003-08:00

I'm not sure what sparks our dreams, but last night I dreamed of my high school history teacher CW Stevens Jr. In grades 11 and 12 I was his student assistant. I graded papers, kept the bulletin board displays current to the subject each class was studying at the time and led the occasional class.

CW was a meticulous man, immaculately groomed and tailored, like no other man I'd ever known. He was not handsome. He had a bald head, a small jaw and weak chin. No difference. I adored him. He was witty and intelligent and he'd travelled the world - he'd even been an intelligence officer in China in the late 50s and had some truly awful stories to tell.

He told of one spring day when he took a visiting friend to lunch at a local cafe. The friend needed to use the "facilities" which meant he had to walk through the kitchen to a latrine in the alley. When he came back he was green-faced and had lost his appetite. He urged CW to take the same stroll. "Oh, he said, "Look at the stove as you go by."

CW went, and as he passed the large cast-iron stove he cast a glance at it. Encrusted with grease, and in the grease thousands of fat and happy blowfly maggots wriggling away.

"Ewwwww!" I said, when he told me this, "What did you do?"

"Went back to my table and enjoyed my lunch," he said, his blue eyes dancing with mischief. "If you're worried about eating a maggot in China you'd starve in a week."

But I'm profoundly grateful to this lovely little man for something entirely different. He introduced me to classical music. One day he brought a record album to school and asked if I had a phonograph. I did, so he lent (or perhaps gave) me the album. This was followed by others. Operas, symphonies, a whole range of composers. His favourite was American composer Aaron Copland, and I never listen to Copland without thinking of my beloved teacher. Thank you sir.

Copland "Simple Gifts" from Appalachian Spring is based on the tune of the Shaker Hymn "Simple Gifts";

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,
 'tis the gift to come down where you ought to be, 
And when we find ourselves in the place just right, 
It will be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gained, 
To bow and to bend we shan't be ashamed. 
To turn, turn will be our delight, 
'Til by turning, turning we come round right
'Tis the gift to be loved and that love to return, 
'Tis the gift to be taught and a richer gift to learn, 
And when we expect of others what we try to live each day,
 Then we'll all live together and we'll all learn to say,

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,
 'tis the gift to come down where you ought to be, 
And when we find ourselves in the place just right, 
It will be in the valley of love and delight.

'Tis the gift to have friends and a true friend to be, 
'Tis the gift to think of others not to only think of "me", 
And when we hear what others really think and really feel, 
Then we'll all live together with a love that is real.

Days and Nights Mixed

2012-01-10T02:06:00.003-08:00

My mother would say I have my days and nights mixed. And that's the truth. Otherwise why would I be sitting here at 3:30 am working on a blog post?

I tried going to bed earlier, but my bones hate going to bed. I'm as loosely strung as an old marionette, and when I lie down the backbone connected to the funny bone and the hip bone connected to the hop bone somehow find themselves in new and uncomfortable configurations. Now, why I don't just get smart and take the pain pills two hours before a reasonable bedtime I don't know. My optimistic side takes inventory, finds nothing acant, and says, "I don't need pain meds tonight!"

So here I am at 3:30 am, having not yet slept, waiting for the pills to kick in so I can lie down.

Sprawled on the floor near my chair is the magnificently spoiled Cattus Salvadorus. Salvador means servant in Spanish and never was a name so ill-chosen for a feline. Yes, I know it's because he sports a little Dali-like moustache of freckles just below his duffer nose, but he is no one's servant. Just the opposite. Last night I had not a single hour of uninterrupted sleep, courtesy of a lonely cat.

Where we might just scold him and tell him to get in his bed and lie down, we're a bit soft on him right now. Two days before Christmas he became desperately ill. For a while it was touch and go whether we'd lose him or not. Even now we're a bit apprehensive about his future. He has a back problem, and his hind legs are beginning to fail. He's also lost a substantial amount of weight. We snuggle him a lot. We sneak a pain pill into him tucked inside his "cookie".

Yes, he's a terrible nuisance but he's just the kind of nuisance we love, and any way you look at it, despite all the vet intervention, injections, pills and potions, we can hardly help but wonder how long we'll have him with us.

With him or worrying about being without him, it's very hard to sleep.

Aging as a Spiritual Practice

2011-12-31T21:31:00.005-08:00

So, another year slips past and a new unsullied calendar hangs on the wall. When I was five I thought New Year meant all the stars fell out of the sky and the whole cosmos changed. I begged to stay up to see it. My father carried me outside from the warmth of the room where the family was singing Auld Lang Syne and held me as I reared back and watched the midnight sky overhead. I heard the cheering that meant the year had turned and I waited for the shower of stars that never came.

Having seen my fair share of skies which never rained a shower of stars at midnight on any New Year's Eve, I've come to see New Year's as one day in a string of days. Like Mala beads that slip, one by one through your fingers. You look up from your keyboard at 5:30 and ask, "Where'd the day go?" Where did the week, month, year - all those yesterdays of my life go?

Recently I saw the title of a book I want to read, about aging as a spiritual practice. It's something we talk about. We both struggle with significant health issues which bring with them muscle weakness, pain and serious physical limitations. At times the frustration of not being able to reliably (or spontaneously) do the most basic of tasks is almost overwhelming. We snap and growl like a couple of bears arguing over the same den.

It's not something we like doing. It brings us both to tears sometimes, not from what has been said, but because we cannot bear to be cross with each other. This is what we've been talking about, how do we use this process of illness and aging as catalyst for growth? How do we incorporate the realities of aging into spiritual practice?

Joy to the World!

2011-12-26T16:14:00.006-08:00

While we are unable to dispense very much joy , we can help lift the burden of poverty just a bit for one or two others who are not as fortunate as we are.

Through KIVA we are able to reach far beyond the four walls of our little condo here in Calgary to people around the world.

Are we deluded into believing we are great benefactors of mankind, and those we loan our pittance to feel some undying gratitude? Certainly not. We have been small business people ourselves, and know that a loan is both a blessing and a burden. It can enable, but it lays anxiety on your back at the same time.

But the key word is enable. Without that small lift up, there is no possibility of growth, no digging yourself out of the hole you are in, no matter how hard you work. So this month our KIVA loan, our 33rd, goes to a farmer in Armenia, a married man who supports his elderly father. Karen raises cattle and is a beekeeper. Karen asked for a loan because he needs to purchase calves and additional beehives. This expansion of the farm will help Karen to increase his income and support his household.

Ian gave me a KIVA gift card for Christmas, which I have already invested - loan number 34 has been extended to a group of farmers in Kenya. This group is part of an innovative farming support program called One Acre Fund which acts as a sort of farmer's cooperative . One Acre Fund has an integrated agriculture package, which includes training, procuring and offering quality supplies (fertilizer and seeds), credit and insurance. Clients enroll between July and October for the following planting season, which begins in February. By purchasing the needed supplies between July and October One Acre Fund is able to take advantage of the low seasonal prices for supplies.

Julius is the facilitator of the Mukunduzi B farmer's group which also includes Francis, Elias, Mellab, Neriah, Sachini, Tom. In the photograph, Julius is pictured with his group members and standing on the far left is the field officer.

Julius and his group joined One Acre Fund in the year 2011 and will re-enroll in the 2012 program. In 2012, the members of Mukunduzi B group will each plant maize plots between ½ and 1 acre of land.

Julius takes care of five children at home. He joined One Acre Fund to increase his yield of maize (corn). He works hard to produce enough income through growing corn to provide nutritious food for his children and send them to school. In the recent 2011 season, Julius had an excellent yield, harvesting eight bags on corn from his ½ acre of land. Before joining One Acre Fund, Julius was only able to harvest four bags of maize on ½ acre of land.
Julius plans to continue educating his children and hopes to expand into raising livestock in the future.

Merry Catmus!

2011-12-24T11:13:00.001-08:00

This has happened more than once in our house.
Cats really know how to celebrate.

December Strikes Again

2011-12-14T13:09:00.003-08:00

I've grown to dread December. There's a strong December tradition in our family - a pact of sorts. It's unstated but understood. Called "Die in December", you can also get credit for carrying on the tradition if you die in the last half of November. However if you linger until the stroke of midnight January 1st, you obviously haven't felt the burden of familial duty.

This year it was my cousin Mack who carried the familial tradition forward by passing away on the 5th of December. Mack was a stellar guy. We shared a childhood a lifetime ago when summers were ten years long and the Oklahoma twilights were filled with fireflies.

Mac was several years older than I, big for his age (he topped out at 6'5") while I was still wearing child's size three dresses at age seven. He was red-headed, blue-eyed, freckled, the perfect model for a Norman Rockwell painting of the All-American boy of the late 40's and 50's. But he was as a child, and as a man, a gentle giant.

He grew up to be a career military man, and for many years we had no contact. But about a decade ago I tracked him down on the web and we began writing back and forth. It was as if the years between hadn't happened.

He was laid to rest with full military honors on Sunday. He will be missed by his wife, seven children, many grandchildren and a cousin who remembers how he carried her on his shoulders and ran, laughing with each bounding step, through the long long memories of yesterday.

How Do You Eat a Tutu?

2011-12-13T10:12:00.005-08:00

Many years ago on my way out of the library I stopped to browse the "books for sale" table and bought for the princely sum of 50 cents The Book of Latin American Cooking by Elisabeth Lambert Ortiz. The fact that this cookbook was first published in 1969 and is still in print and for sale today should give you some idea of how wonderful it is.

Its only flaw is that it has no tamale recipes, but then, as my mother-in-law was fond of saying, there's no perfection in this world. What it does have is 338 pages of recipes drawn from countries all over Latin America. For dinner last night I made one of my favorites, the Brazilian dish, Black Beans Minas Gerais style or Tutu a Mineira. Over the years I've adapted this recipe a bit. It's a simpler version of Feijoada Completa, Black Beans with Mixed Meats, which has oranges as a garnish or side dish. I added the oranges and limes from that recipe to the Tutu recipe.

Now I'm hungry. I'm sitting here wishing we hadn't been such pigs and eaten every last scrap of it last night, because I'd sure like some more right now. (Note to self: Do not invite a guest next time you make Tutu - you fool!)

The traditional way to serve Tutu is in a large flat casserole, but as I seem to be missing my large flat casserole I used a round pie dish instead. I piled the egg/bacon mixture in the middle and placed the orange slices around the edges, with the lime slices in the middle for colour. The kale had to go in a bowl on the side. It didn't look quite as spectacular, but it didn't deter any appetites. Everyone dove in for thirds and then Tony made some lame excuse about it being a shame to put such a small amount in a container in the fridge and finished what I might have had for lunch today!

Anyway, here's the recipe, should you be inclined to try this Tutu for yourself:

Black Beans Minas Gerais style, Tutu a Mineira

Casserole base:
6 cups cooked black beans
1 medium onion diced
2 cloves garlic
1 tbs dried red/green pepper flakes
1 tsp tabasco sauce
1 tsp salt
1 tbs olive oil

Toppings:
3 eggs
6 slices bacon
2 naval oranges
1/2 of a lime
1 bunch kale
1 tsp tabasco
1 tbs oil (divided)
1 tsp red wine vinegar
----

Method:
Mash cooked beans, adding water if needed to make consistency of mashed potatoes. Saute onions and garlic in oil until transparent, add to beans, along with other seasonings. Place seasoned beans in flat casserole, put in 300 degree oven until hot through.

While beans are heating fry bacon, drain and crumble. Fry the eggs and cut into strips. Cut kale into strips and cook until just wilted. Slice oranges into thin slices, slice limes into half slices. Mix 1 tsp of oil, tsp of vinegar and tsp of hot sauce together.

Mix egg strips and bacon together and lay a strip down center of casserole on top of beans, lay kale down one side, dress with oil/vinegar/hot sauce, put orange and lime slices down the other side.

Stand back....

What Did You Eat This Week?

2011-12-12T14:13:00.004-08:00

As Christmas approaches I have begun to prepare our traditional Christmas dinner, which is a far cry from the turkey and dressing which will grace many a North American table in ten days time. Anyone who's suffered through this blog for more than a year or two know that Christmas dinner in our house is Tex-Mex, that blend of indigenous Indian, Spanish food with an Anglo twist found along the Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and California borders with Mexico.

But as I looked at the food bulging from pantry and fridge I was reminded of a photo essay I'd seen earlier by Photojournalist Peter Menzel called, What the World Eats.

In 16 photos Menzel moves across the globe, from Japan to North Carolina, from an African refugee camp to a mountain village in Peru and a dozen places in between. In each photo Menzel shows a family in their home, with the week's food arrayed around them. The weekly food budget is given, and the families favorite foods are listed.

It's a fascinating look at global cultures, and at how ubiquitous some items are. Some families eat almost nothing except processed, packaged foods, some eat no packaged or processed food at all. There are very few families who do not have at least one or two bottles of Coca Cola among the week's provender, and sometimes there's a pyramid of the stuff.

As I make my tamales, mole negro and carne adovada, preparing dishes for loved ones who gather at our table, I will think of other families around the globe, and the foods on their tables as we bring this tumultuous year to an end.

Yorn in Cambodia - KIVA Loan for Dec

2011-12-11T11:50:00.005-08:00

Yorn, on the far left in this picture, is 43 years old, and lives in Cambodia. She has three children who work for other people grinding corn. Yorn's family doesn't have an easy life. For more than ten years, Yorn's main income source has been growing corn. In order to feed her children she must sometimes also work for others.

Yorn leads a group of four female members applying for their first loan from KIVA. She will use her loan to buy agricultural tools such as hoes and a plow for her farm work. Having sufficient tools will allow her to increase the amount of corn she is able to grow. Through increased production she hopes to be able to better feed her children.

This is our 32nd KIVA loan, and our small fund of about $150.00 spent over two and a half years has enabled 32 people in disadvantaged circumstances to invest in themselves and their businesses. In those 32 loans only one has not been repaid, and that was because a typhoon wiped out the village where our borrower lived.

As the loans are repaid, on a regular schedule, the money is available to reinvest, or to withdraw if you decide to leave the program. We follow our borrowers each month, and it's always good to read a report that their goal of increasing their income and improving their families lives has been reached, in part because we shared our pensioner's mite.

Who's Paying You to Be Here?

2011-12-08T22:19:00.006-08:00

Gurdjieff was a late 19th century teacher. Students came to study and live with him on his estate near Paris. There was one man in the community no one could stand because he was impossible to get along with. He complained constantly and had such a short fuse that you never knew when he was going to explode over nothing. He made everyone's life a misery and the other students just wished that he would go away.

Gurdjieff taught by making his students do things that were completely meaningless - with the purpose of making them pay attention to their reactions and learn from them. It wasn't the useless tasks that were important, it was the students' inner experience that mattered.

One day the students had been told to dig up an area of lawn growing on one side of a path and replace it with lawn growing on the other side. This was too much for the man that everyone disliked. He screamed that he was fed up with Gurdjieff's useless chores, threw down his shovel, stormed to his room and got his suitcase, got in his car and drove away, swearing never to return. The rest of the community was delighted to see him go, and cheered as he drove away. But when they told Gurdjieff what happened, he said “Oh, no!” and went after him.

Three days later they both came back. That night, when he was serving Gurdjieff his supper, his attendant asked, “Sir, why did you bring him back? It was so much more pleasant with him gone.” and Gurdjieff answered very quietly, “Between you and me; you must tell no one. I pay that man to stay here.”

This annoying person, and people and experiences like him, are life's therapeutic irritations. They exist to wake us up. Like the sand in the oyster that is the seed of the pearl, therapeutic irritations stir a reaction in us. We can choose to resist them, or we can use them as chances to awaken. They teach us what it is not possible to learn when surrounded by ease and harmony.

Though it's not easy and I frequently fail, I try to let these therapeutic irritations show me where I need to pay attention, areas like developing patience and controlling my angry temper. [Usually they show me exactly how impatient and ill-tempered I really am, but that in itself is a lesson.]

Obviously I need the practice because someone is paying several people to be in my life right now. So far so good, but I'm beginning to get a headache.

Story from Pema Chodron, Start Where You Are: A Guide to Compassionate Living, Shambhala, 1994

Winter in Calgary

2011-12-06T18:09:00.002-08:00

Calgary's forecast for tomorrow is -25 C. Looking for ways to keep warm from the experts? Here ya go, the tips Calgarians tweeted to the CPO when they asked how you keep warm when the temperature dives in Calgary.

----------NOV 25 IS BUY NOTHING DAY -------

2011-11-24T19:22:00.006-08:00

Buy Nothing Day!

Take yourself for a walk in the park instead of the mall.

Stay home and have a bubble bath.

Let the credit card cool down.

Think about what it would feel like to be

DEBT-FREE

Or conversely, you could enjoy the "holiday experience"
Andy Borowitz describes in his column today.

November 25, 2011

In Positive Economic Sign, Walmart Customers Killing Each Other to Buy Shit

Pepper Spraying, Homicide Bullish Indicators, Economists Say

MINNEAPOLIS (The Borowitz Report) – In what economists are hailing as a clear sign of economic recovery, Walmart customers across the USA jammed into stores on Black Friday, sometimes killing each other to buy useless shit.

“We have been looking for evidence that the economy is on the mend,” said Davis Logsdon, chairman of the economics department at the University of Minnesota. “When people resort to homicide to buy a Blu-ray player, that is very, very good news indeed.”

Mr. Logsdon said he was “impressed” by the lengths to which some Walmart customers were going to grab coveted sale items: “They’re using tactics we usually associate with the UC-Davis police.”

With many customers using pepper spray and other weapons to get a shopping advantage, however, Mr. Logsdon advised Americans not to enter a Walmart unarmed.

“If you want to get your hands on a doorbuster, you’d better have a firearm,” he said. “Fortunately, Walmart is offering several great doorbusters on firearms.”

Walmart and other retailers’ decision to commence their Black Friday sales a day early carries with it an added benefit for consumers, he noted: “Now, Americans will be able to declare bankruptcy one day earlier.”

All in all, Dr. Logsdon said that the increased violence and mayhem at retail outlets across the country was “a testament to the greatness of the American consumer.”

“Egyptians risk their lives for new government,” he said. “Americans bravely do the same for new flat screens.”

GOD HELP US!

No Need to Worry

2011-11-14T13:01:00.006-08:00

“If you have fear of some pain or suffering, you should examine whether there is anything you can do about it. If you can, there is no need to worry about it; if you cannot do anything, then there is also no need to worry.” ~ Dalai Lama

And closer to home, a reassuring word from the light of my life, "We've gone through this before. We can't let it scare us. We may very well feel better tomorrow."

Paradise is having someone who understands.

A Postcard from Paradise and Recuerda mi Corazon

Marigolds in March

2011-11-12T09:32:00.003-08:00

Dame Judi Dench is by far my favorite actress. She just gets more beautiful as the years roll by, which gives me hope. And finally a movie, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, which has a cast with some character and dare I say depth?

Though I haven't been in a movie theatre since my youngest child was a teenager I'm setting my clock for March (when this movie will be released) and have told my husband that we have a date night coming up.

Reposted from As Time Goes By

I'LL WATCH ANY MOVIE WITH THESE TWO DAMES (...of the British Empire, that is). Lilalia of Yum Yum Cafe reminded me of an upcoming film starring Judi Dench and Maggie Smith, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. According to an online synopsis, the movie ”...follows a group of British retirees who decide to 'outsource their retirement to less expensive and seemingly exotic India. Enticed by advertisements for the newly restored Marigold Hotel and bolstered with visions of a life of leisure, they arrive to find the palace a shell of its former self.

“Though the new environment is less luxurious than imagined, they are forever transformed by their shared experiences, discovering that life and love can begin again when you let go of the past.”

“Marigold” is not due in theaters until next March. Meanwhile, here is a trailer.

The Red Hibiscus

2011-11-11T14:34:00.007-08:00

Red hibiscus blooms
In winter window glowing
Scarlet borealis

Haiku My Heart Friday

recuerda mi corazon

"We Do"

2011-11-10T19:35:00.002-08:00

Let me see. Last time I checked my own marriage of 46 years hadn't dissolved, crumbled, teetered, tottered or turned toes up because a same sex couple looked upon each other with the same love, tenderness and commitment that my dear sweet husband and I feel for each other.

I think it's time we grew up and let families live their lives in peace. Or as my old Mum would have said when someone got a little too interested in telling her how she should conduct her affairs, "You, you go tend to your own knittin' and I'll tend to mine."

A Family Story Told and Retold...

2011-11-08T00:29:00.005-08:00

My parents had three small children when the Great Depression hit. Their household also included my elderly grandfather and my uncle Lonnie, who was only nine years old when my grandmother died. Lonnie had come to live with mother and dad when they were newlyweds. The household shrank and expanded like a bellows as different relatives would come to stay for a month or year, or more. For a while the household included my Aunt Eva, her husband Paul and their two babies, Eddie and Pauline. This story from that time was told and retold as I was growing up in the 40s and 50s.

Paul had a job driving an ice wagon back in the days before electric refrigeration, when food was kept cold in an ice box, an insulated wooden cupboard - which held a large block of ice in one of the compartments. This ice was delivered door-to-door by the ice-man. The horse-drawn wagon was packed with 50 pound blocks of ice separated by layers of sawdust. The horse knew which houses bought ice and which ones didn't, Paul didn't even have to hold the reins.

When the horse stopped Paul would jump off the wagon seat, run to the back of the wagon, open the door, get a firm grip on a block of ice with a set of huge tongs, heft the block out, haul it around to the back porch and into the kitchen where he'd put it in the ice-box. Sometimes he'd have to chisel away the irregular edges with the ice pick he carried in his belt so the block would fit in the box. 50 pound blocks. Over and over. All day long. It was back-breaking work.

One day he slipped and hurt his back and couldn't lift the blocks. But jobs were scarce and he couldn't risk taking a day off. School had just let out for summer so Paul begged Lonnie to help him with the route. Little Lonnie, who at 14 years old, was five foot nothin' tall and still weighed only 85 lbs.

They struggled the blocks into the houses together for most of the day, but by the last hour Paul could barely crawl off the wagon. Lonnie was left to deal with blocks of ice that weighed 3/4s as much as he did - alone.

As they approached one of the last houses Paul said, "Lon, make sure you get a big block. This woman has a scale on her back porch, and if the block isn't 50 lbs she'll make you bring it back and get another one."

Lonnie surveyed the remaining blocks carefully and picked what looked like a big one. He grappled at it with the tongs and using every ounce of strength drug it out of the wagon.

"Did you get a big 'un?" Paul asked, from the front of the wagon.

Lonnie wiped his brow and picked the block up off the tailgate. "Oh, it's a big 'un all right!" Then he began the slow, stiff-legged walk toward the back of the house, with the ice-block in the only position he could manage, swinging on the tongs between his knees like a cross-wise pendulum, threatening to overbalance him at every step.

"Ice-man!" he yelled as he struggled up the steps, just as Paul had taught him.

"You ain't my rag'lar," the woman said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"No, Ma'm, he's in the wagon a 'cause he hurt his back."

"Well, I hope he told you I won't be cheated! Here - you sling that block on these scales. And don't you be a laying your dirty thumb on that scale or I'll slap you sideways to Satan!"

The dial gyrated wildly and gradually settled - at 49 lbs. Lonnie's heart sank.

"Do I LOOK like a fool?" She narrowed her eyes. "I pay for 50 lbs of ice, and by gum I'm gonna GIT 50 lbs of ice. You ain't cheating me! Git me a bigger block!"

He had no choice. He hauled the block down, wrestled it back to the truck, opened the door and shoved it back in.

"Not big enough?" Paul asked in dismay.

"Only 49 pounds." Lonnie wheezed.

Paul crept off the wagon seat groaning and holding his back. Together they searched through the blocks until they found one Paul was certain was big enough. He sweated as he helped Lonnie pull it out and leaned panting on the tailgate as Lonnie traversed the long path around the house again.

The block went on the scale. He held his breath. The woman watched the dial the way a hungry cat watches a mouse who is just one step from being too far from its burrow. The dial settled - 49.5 lbs.

"I do believe you take me for a fool! I will go to the office tomorrow and report you to your superiors! I PAY for 50 lbs of ice and I am going to GIT 50 lbs of ice!"

"No Ma'm, no Ma'm!" Lonnie was at the edge of panic. "It ain't no trouble a'tall. I'll get another block," and he started back to the wagon, with the tonged iceberg trying to tear his scrawny little arms out of their sockets.

"Not big enough," he gasped as he swung it up on the tailgate. "God Damn," he was nigh in tears, "Not God Damn big enough."

Paul didn't even scold Lonnie for swearing. "Get inside," he said. "Let's make sure we get the biggest one in the wagon."

Several minutes later they had separated out a massive block, and Lonnie was once more on his difficult journey to the back porch of this very particular customer.

He saw a gleam of satisfaction in the woman's eyes as she saw the block, and sure enough, when the dial settled down it read an astonishing 54 pounds. "Well that's more like it!" she crowed.

Lonnie felt a wave of righteous indignation come over him. He reached for the ice pick tucked into his belt and attacked the ice block.

"Here! Here! What do you think you're doing?" she shrieked, dodging flying ice.

Lonnie paused briefly to look at the dial and started chiseling again. Finally his pick fell silent. The dial read exactly 50 lbs. He grinned for the first time that afternoon.

"Lady," he said, holding out a trembling hand for his nickle payment. "You're paying for 50 pounds of ice, and 50 pounds of ice is ALL you're gonna GET!"

A Morning's Conversation

2011-11-05T15:08:00.008-07:00

A One Act Play:

Characters: Him and Her

Curtain rises on a living room in an urban condo. Him and Her are slumped in their respective easy chair/rockers. The floor needs sweeping. The dust is thick. There's a tumbleweed of cat hair rolling across the floor. The digital clock says Saturday Nov 5. It is apparent from their demeanor that they have been unable to do much of anything in days.

There's a white board on the wall with a list:

Wednesday Nov 2:

Doctor's appt
Pharmacy
Grocery shopping

Thursday:
Laundry
Sweep and mop

Friday:
Clean bathroom
Cook for weekend

Him: That housekeeper didn't show up again this morning.

Her: She's not very reliable. I'm thinking of firing her.

Him: I know we said we hated having a housekeeper underfoot and the agency promised to find someone we'd hardly notice, but this is ridiculous.

Her: I can never tell she's been here.

Him: Has she ever been here? It's so hard to get good help anymore. (sighs)

Her: Well, even if we don't fire her, I'm seriously considering cutting her wages, or at least reducing her benefits.

Him: It's probably union interference. Maybe she's working to rule?

Her: I'll bet she's downtown with that "Occupy" crowd, sleeping in a tent, protesting against the 1%.

Him: I'm so upset about it I'm taking to my unmade bed.

Her: I'll sit here and have the vapours. I haven't had a good fit of the vapours in ever so long and it's something I can do without leaving my chair.

Him: Shuffles out of room.

Her: Rock, rock, rock.

Curtain falls

Our 31st KIVA Loan

2011-11-04T18:21:00.004-07:00

This month we are pleased to be able to extend a small loan to Elizabeth Onyabidi of Kitale, Kenya through KIVA.org.

Elizabeth is 40 years old, married, and has five children between the ages of 8 and 17. She has been in farming for 11 years, producing and selling vegetables, tomatoes and bananas at the local market.

Since you all know that I have chicken envy I wanted to support Elizabeth, who has requested a loan of 40,000 KES ($422.00 Canadian dollars) to purchase poultry birds so she can venture into poultry farming. She has big plans to have a farm running with 2000 birds in two years. She says there is a ready market for both birds and eggs, and the business will generate more income to help provide for her family’s basic needs.

She is aware of the main pitfall of the business – animal diseases – but despite this challenge, she remains focused on achieving success and repaying the loan.

I hope she also keeps an eye on the poultry farmers other challenges, neighbourhood dogs, cats, snakes and various wildlife. In the south it was skunks and raccoons, I'm sure a poultry farmer in Kenya has similar poultry thieves. :)

Good luck Elizabeth, I'll enjoy getting your monthly reports and wish you all the best!

A Leaf Treader

2011-11-03T21:45:00.003-07:00

I have been treading on leaves all day until I am autumn-tired
God knows all the color and form of leaves I have trodden on and mired.
Perhaps I have put forth too much strength or been too fierce from fear.
I have safely trodden underfoot the leaves of another year.

All summer long they were over head, more lifted up than I.
To come to their final place in earth they had to pass me by.
All summer long I thought I heard them whispering under their breath.
And when they came it seemed with a will to carry me with them to death.

They spoke to the fugitive in my heart as if it were leaf to leaf.
They tapped at my eyelids and touched my lips with an invitation to grief.
But it was no reason I had to go because they had to go.
Now up to my knee to keep on top another year of snow.

~ Robert Frost
-------------

The weatherman predicts our first "sticking" snow will begin in the night. It may have already begun, I haven't gone to the big set of patio doors in the dining room and looked out across the lawn and parking area, where falling snow would be visible in the glow of the street lights.

Having grown up in the southern US, where snow was a distinct oddity, and "winter" was six weeks of sweater weather, Calgary's snow and interminable winters filled me with dismay the first several years I lived here. I've grown more sanguine about it over the past 40+ years. Calgary wears a mantle of snow comfortably, as easily as a shawl tossed around the shoulders as you nip outside for the morning paper.

But there's something else. The years are so much more compact than they once were. When you are six it's 100 years between Christmases, by the time you're drawing a pension the seasons fly past so quickly it's easy to blink and miss one entirely. You look at the leaves swirling and gathering in drifts and you understand what they have been saying all summer. It's not a threat, but a promise, "You're one of us. Watch and learn."

I wonder how old Robert Frost was when he wrote A Leaf Treader? It's the work of a man who was old enough to recognize that our existence is as the cycling of leaves. We can resist all we like, but no amount of force or fierceness of fear will keep us from the same cycle of nature that the leaves endure season after season. They fall and, if left undisturbed, sink deep and deeper becoming fodder for new generations of leaves, or for grass or mushrooms. Not such a bad thing, once you get over the fear.

The snow has started. I have safely trodden underfoot the leaves of this year. It will be a long time until spring, but not as long as it once was.

Make it Better NOW!

2011-10-27T19:14:00.002-07:00

Occupy the Daily News

2011-10-18T11:29:00.006-07:00

I've been watching the "Occupy Wall Street" and its hundreds of spin-off demonstrations with great interest.

We watch two channels for news, the CBC for national and international News and Global TV (for local and national news). The CBC usually has a fair and balanced approach to almost any story on the national level. Global TV in Calgary has an ethnically diverse news team and fair coverage regardless of race, economic status or the usual factors which news channels often use to drum up controversy.

So it's been interesting to see the coverage of the "Occupy" movement and compare it to the many YouTube clips coming from the different protest sites. Global TV visited the "Occupy Calgary" site several days before the protest was scheduled to begin and focused on the fact that it was not protesters, but street people, in particular trouble-makers who have been expelled from the shelters who had set up camp.

Most news clips of "Occupiers" have focused on the heavily tattooed & dreadlocked drummer, a yawner, those lounging in conversation. One "live" reporter in Toronto said "Oh, maybe 150 people here," and 10 minutes later another reporter, across the square said, "There are 1000 people here".

In a shocking interview CBC commentator Kevin O'Leary accosted Pulitzer Prize winning journalist and economist Chris Hedges, referring to him as a "Left-wing Nutbar". As Hedges said, "I'd expect such behaviour from a Fox News commentator, which is why I don't go on Fox, but not from the CBC." He ended his interview by saying he would not be returning to the CBC. In general media coverage has been pretty dismal.

Apparently TV stations don't understand that social media is as useful at getting out the real news in North America as it is in the Middle East. The real news here is that TV "news" is a five minute clip designed to manipulate you into tut-tutting about the awful things happening elsewhere while you wait for the next round of commercials for anti-wrinkle cream and pizza to begin.

In my senior year of high school my English teacher had us read and discuss two books by Vance Packard one called The Hidden Persuaders on how advertising agencies use psychology to make you want their products and how voters are manipulated into choosing candidates; and another called The Waste Makers which criticizes how companies build planned obsolescence into products to encourage customers to discard functioning items in favour of a new "improved" version which offers little real increase in value.

As a 17-year-old high school student I was disgusted. I threw my "Seventeen" magazines, with their ads for clothes and hair products and perfumes and make-up, in the garbage. Without knowing what it was I adopted the philosophy of voluntary simplicity then.

So it is, that a good many decades later I have no more use for the advertising industry than I do for a three-legged jumping horse, and I have even less tolerance for "news" programs which purport to offer viewers facts which allow them to make up their own minds but instead manipulate information to serve their own purposes.

The message is clear. Politicians and corporations have formed an increasingly unholy and incestuous relationship for the past 30 years. During that time 99% of us have been sold down the river to the greed of the 1% at the top. Rules governing the behaviour of banks and other financial institutions have been relaxed to the point of paralysis.

My elderly neighbour came one day, white-faced and trembling, after a visit to her bank. After her husband's death the year before she had put her investment portfolio in the hands of the bank's investment manager, with strict instructions that she was financially conservative and invested only in bonds and safe markets. Reassurances were made. Papers were signed.

The bank's investment manager had called her in to tell her that they had invested 90% of her money in a risky South American currency exchange, which had been making fabulous profit - until the country defaulted on its IMF loans and went bankrupt. They said they were sorry but they had lost 90% of her money for her. That's investing for you, win some and lose some. Good-day madam. Thank you for allowing us to serve you.

"How am I to live?" she asked me, "I told them I depend on the interest from my investments as my income. How could they do that to me without any consequences?"

The bank took her money, gambled with it, and lost. They suffered no consequences (and made over a BILLION dollars profit that quarter) while she was left trying to figure out how to afford food and pay her electricity bill. BTW, she was a veteran as was her husband. Both had medals for heroism for their service in WWII.

What can we do? I can't occupy much besides my rocking chair, but there are several avenues, some of which may be open to you and some of which may not.

1) We can stop buying those things which are unnecessary to life and health

2) We can move bank accounts to local banks or credit unions

3) We can refuse to vote for any candidate who now holds political office and begin NOW to organize a party of independent candidates who are known by, selected from and accountable to the people of their districts. Campaigning need not be expensive if done on a grass-roots level. Scare the sh*t out of Washington, Ottawa and every other government who has been profligate enough to favour greed over the common good.

4) Be prepared to cinch in the belt - no one is entitled to live above his means - even those in the 99%

5) And let your "news" channel know that you are capable of making up your own mind if they will just present the facts.

Discovered in a Far Country

2011-10-13T23:19:00.004-07:00

The web takes us places and introduces us to people we'd never meet in the tightly confined routines of our little lives. I've been fascinated by Japanese culture since reading Will and Ariel Durant's massive tome Our Oriental History as a teenager. It was the first of the 11 volume set of Will and Ariel Durant's series The Story of Civilization. I bought a 40-year-old (and 40 lb) set in 2005 at a booksale, and then found my old eyes couldn't read the six point type font they were set in.

Now what that has to do with the price of corn in Topeka escapes me, but I believe I was thinking along the lines of being interested in Japanese culture, ah yes, that was it. I knew there was a thread in there somewhere. And also a fan of delicious writing.

Trust me, there aren't that many wonderful writers around. So I was delighted to discover PureLandMountain.com, a blog written by Robert Brady, an American in his 60s who has made his home in Japan since the early 70s. His work is sage, laugh-out-loud funny in places and recognizable as an American who has lived in another culture long enough to identify with it.

Just read his post on Simple Vegetarian Recipes and see if you don't view the preparation of simple food in a whole new light.

To whet your appetite and encourage you to visit for yourself I am going to include a snippet of one of his pieces, on elderhood. I have read my way through dozens of entries in one sitting though that is not the way to read his work. I have to go back and read it slowly. It should be savoured, like a perfectly ripe peach, letting the juice run to your elbows.

"...genuine elders aren't enticed by the culture of youth: because they see right through it, how short-lived and time-blind it necessarily is. They know the portals one must pass through to get beyond that stage of life and, if one is truly alive and not asleep or otherwise spiritually sightless or habituated, the lessons that await and must be learned at each stage. That, in its totality, is life; it is not life if one somnambulates through the whole thing, or tries to stay young forever, or mature quickly. A life thus true is all the more a life the closer it approaches its entirety."

Oh, just read it for yourself. It's delish.

October KIVA Loan

2011-10-10T12:28:00.004-07:00

Though we've made at least one, and sometimes two KIVA loans each month, I've been negligent in posting them recently. But I shouldn't be. I hope by seeing what a difference loaning even a small amount of money can make to the life of a hard-working person somewhere else my readers will be encouraged to think about loaning to a Third World business person.

This is our 30th KIVA loan and it goes to Dilbar, a widow who is the loving mother of two children, a daughter and a son. Dilbar lives in Tajikistan, a country with a captivating Silk Road history and a rich cultural heritage. It is also the poorest of the former Soviet republics. A mountainous state where only six percent of the land is arable, its economy was damaged by a destructive 1990s civil war from which it is still recovering.

Dilbar is smart and hard-working. She is a farmer who primarily grows wheat, which yields her a good income, and she also raises livestock. She asked for a loan of $1500 to have capital to buy mineral fertilizers, wheat seeds and livestock to expand her business. She wants to increase her income so she can provide a nice wedding for her daughter.

The New Social Revolution

2011-10-09T23:16:00.009-07:00

1:00 am, Thanksgiving morning. The pie is made, the yams are roasted, cranberry sauce chilling, the cornbread and wild rice and ready to join hands with celery, onions and mushrooms to create "stuffing" for the turkey. The turkey is defrosting in the fridge. The salad greens wait, the potatoes will know the kiss of sour cream and butter, baby peas and carrots will snuggle up together as they lightly steam. We'll groan afterwards that we ate too much, we always do.

We are on every side surrounded by plenty. Food, clothing, comfort, love - what blessings flow around us like an ever surging stream.

Our home is small and simply furnished but there's been a certain amount of expense with setting up housekeeping all over again. It's high time we climbed back on the very careful financial wagon and built up the savings account. Not just wise from a financial point of view, but from a philosophical and political one too.

One reason I love Rhonda Jean Hetzel's blog Down to Earth so much is that she and her husband Hanno are our age and are very self sufficient. They are both in good health and capable of much more physically than we are, with our genetically wonky muscles, but she makes her own soap, sews up her own clothes, knits and crochets, has a big garden and chickens (I have chicken envy), preserves and cans her own foods and bottles up beverages like cordials. Rhonda is the kind of all-round competent captain of the household that my grandmother was.

My mother knew how to do all these things, and did them in her early married life, but by the time I came along my parents were in their 40s and after the deprivations of WWII having store-bought was a mark that you'd arrived.

As time has gone by we've collectively given over our competence to the corporation, who is all too eager to do everything for us, at a price. I feel guilty buying things I could be making on my own, but I need a little pinstick of motivation to get me moving, so I was glad to run onto this post by a favorite "political" blogger of mine. If you like his take go read his blog, he's "older", and right on the mark (as far as I'm concerned anyway) and I enjoy what he has to say.

Repost from: Blogger William "Papa" Meloney's blog PA^2 Patois

Call to non-violent revolution: the New Social Revolution

We must first as individuals and then as a body enter into a non-violent insurgency against forces that remove our self-worth, our self-respect and most importantly our dignity.

The corner stone of our non-violent revolution will be: Living within our needs.

When we break the cycle of desire we will begin to escape the trap of materialism. When we live within our needs we begin to escape the trap that our profit driven captors hold us in. Succumbing to their fabricated crises of fake hunger and contrived vanity we willingly allow their influence to color our otherwise healthy decision making process.

We must allow ourselves to make better, healthy decisions.

We must live intentional lives, accepting personal responsibility by living to the measure of our needs.

When we deny supporting the driving efforts of desire-driven profiteers we throw off the yoke of their false desires.

- Papa

Trumpets Please!

2011-10-02T17:06:00.004-07:00

I've been in a bit of a green funk since our move. Anyone who has followed this blog for any length of time knows that I witter on annoyingly and at great length about conserving energy, water, recycling, growing your own food, etc.

And moving from a place where we minimized our consumption and were able to do all those things to a city of 1 M+ sort of harshed my buzz, to quote the younger generation.

But I am not just old, I am also cunning. The condo's annual general meeting was the night after we moved in. And though I could barely put a foot in front of the next, when a nice young man knocked on the door and begged that one of us come down to the lobby for the meeting so it could reach a quorum and proceed, I went. And when they asked for volunteers to sit on the board for the coming year, I put my hand up.

I admit to an agenda, and if you can't guess what it is you haven't been paying attention. But in the commission of her duties this old girl has learned some very interesting and highly encouraging information.

This building has 183 units of various sizes, each of which has its own washer/drier. Fifty of those units have heated underground parking in the parkade. It's a nice building, not fancy by any means, but interesting architecturally, as it's laid out in three "wings", which come together in a central lobby. The roof has dormers and gables, it's not your ugly flat "apartment-style" block. It's got four floors and because it has level entries and two elevators it's accessible.

I look at the long hallways, with a light fixture every 15 feet and groan at the power consumption. (All replaced with CFL bulbs thank you very much.)

But all those TVs, all those washing machines and dishwashers churning away. I can just see the planet going up in smoke and flames. I look at the financials and see how much we spent on electricity and gas last year and think, we have to bring that down!

So I dive in and figure out how much each unit on average each unit consumes in electricity and natural gas for the year. Hmmmmm... that can't be right..... recheck figures. Turns out we use less power and heat here than we did in the Tin Palace. And the average unit here is at the very bottom of the consumption scale compared to other buildings of its type.

Okay, this doesn't mean we still shouldn't try to cut down, and my next newsletter will talk about how to reduce consumption so we can keep our condo fees (which include our electricity, heat, and water) down.

I also got permission to set up "Freecyling Stations" on each floor, in the room where the garbage chute is located. It's clean and well-lit, lots of room, and people often leave things there they no longer want but are still usable. We're just going to "Official" it, with boxes and signs, and encourage people to recycle clean, useful items rather than throwing them away.

And the coup de grace - (Trumpets please!) I got condo board approval to try to organize a community garden in the back corner of the property. The corner has a six foot fence on two sides and parking lot on the third. It's triangular in size with sun all day, and a few small insignificant trees spaced widely apart. Now to begin to recruit other gardeners.

Sigh - That feels better....

I Used to Know that!

2011-09-29T10:49:00.005-07:00

It appears as if my brain has reached capacity. It has adopted the new "Zen" rule of organization - "One in - One out". Where once my brain was a hive of fractal-like activity, my brain's new mantra is minimalism. I was not consulted.

Whenever a new nugget of information enters, an old one is automatically jettisoned into some "trash" file from which there is no retrieval. Unfortunately, I don't get to choose which items to jettison.

This automatic editing is a dreadful nuisance, especially when something that has been jettisoned is later needed. There are few things as frustrating as being aware that you used to know something, and now you don't.

Words, I find myself searching for words. Now this is a damned nuisance when you're a writer and have been for 50 years. I once had an editor estimate my vocabulary at 50,000 of the suckers - he was in a fit of pique because he had to constantly edit my submissions to that 7th grade reading level newspapers and magazines sought to maintain.

But despite my editor's irritation, whatever I wanted to say, whatever nuance I wished to convey, I had a word, (sometimes half a dozen words) at my disposal to serve the purpose. Now there are times I feel as if I'm writing texts for beginning readers. "Look Jane! See Spot! See Spot run! Run Spot run! Run to Dick!" (I blame Dick and Jane to my over-fondness for the exclamation point to this very day!)

I'm reading papers on Complex Adaptive Systems, very exciting, but when I go to try to explain the workings of the immune system to a patient who is genuinely confused about the differences between inherited and autoimmune conditions I find I have to look up the immune system. I knew that information by heart a few years back, now I scratch my head and have to read about T-cell activation three times before my light bulb fires.

I don't know if this is age, too much going on up there to pack neatly into one small round head or my fondness for cholesterol-laden poutine, but for now I'm following the lead of a poster called "pinkfreud" on a forum I ran across and calling it "hardening of the smarteries."

So long Sherman, Hello Boris!

2011-09-24T20:09:00.004-07:00

Sherman "the tank" being the four wheel drive, super-cab, long box with canopy, needs-a-ladder-to-get-into, F-150 pickup I've been driving for the past five years.

I can't say we've ever had a more reliable vehicle. We bought it, put on a new windshield and installed new brakes, did a tune-up and changed all the fluids, and other than buying new tires and regular oil changes we've not had to spend a penny on it since. It's not going down the driveway because it won't run, it's going down the driveway because I just can't drive it anymore. I end up with pulled muscles and a three or four day migraine every time I have to climb in and out of it and wrestle/drive it to the store. Time for a change.

Since I don't have the energy or the car smarts to search for a replacement, Ian the familial car guru assumed the responsibility for shopping for a new car for me. Back in the day when he was a car salesman he sold Volvos and Mercedes and was pretty sure from the beginning that he wanted to find one or the other for us. Bless him.

After a month or so of looking, enter the new boy on the block, a stocky but meticulously-groomed German gentleman surnamed Mercedes-Benz who is a dream to drive.

The pickup requires a football field to turn around in, the Benz turns around in its own footprint, with no effort whatsoever. Even Ian said after driving the Benz driving the pickup was like driving a horse-drawn wagon. Yeah, I've wrestled those horse for years. My arms are three inches longer than they were when we bought it. But no pulled muscles or migraines after a trip to the WalMart in the Benz. Such a relief!

The Benz' first owner was "Boris", the Russian Ambassador to Japan, so he's spent most of his life in Japan. Boris the Ambassador then came to Canada, bringing the Benz with him. Now, after a lifetime of chauffeurs and very light diplomatic service (only about 7000 km annually), Boris the Benz is what you might call semi-retired, as we don't drive much. He'll get lots of time to sit in his parking stall and think about whatever retired diplomat's cars think about.

Thank you Ian and welcome to the family Boris!

Villanelle For Our Time

2011-09-11T22:16:00.000-07:00

Sunny Day

2011-07-23T00:07:00.005-07:00

We aren't entirely bereft of "garden". A few pots of petunias and geraniums brighten our balcony. A wicker chair is a pleasant spot for coffee, if you can get the cat to move. He enjoys a nap out in the fresh air, and likes to sharpen his claws on the chair.

There's a big street light in the parking lot, and a couple of nights ago I stood and watched a bat hunting moths around the light. It darted in and out of the circle of the light. They are amazing fliers. In Summerland I'd sit out in the evenings and the bats would fly all around me. They fly by so fast you can't see them unless they fly between you and a stationary object which is very close. They were tiny little things, half the size of a mouse, incredibly delicate and beautiful.

I was pleased to see one here, even briefly and half way across the parking lot.

Frugal Recipes

2011-06-24T12:44:00.003-07:00

As promised yesterday, recipes:

Chili, Mole Negro Style - 81 cents for a one cup serving

Ingredients:
1 lb ground sirloin
1 medium onion, diced
3 cloves garlic minced
1/3 red bell pepper, diced
1/3 green bell pepper, diced
1 large can diced tomatoes, or two large fresh tomatoes diced
1 tbs tomato paste
2 cups cooked pinto or romano beans
1/4 c chili powder (or to taste)
1 tsp smooth peanut butter
1 tsp unsweetened cocoa powder or 1 square baker's chocolate
1/4 tsp each, ground cloves, cinnamon, anise

Method:
Cook ground sirloin in large pot until all pink is gone; add diced onion, garlic and peppers, cook until onions are transparent. Add tomatoes and tomato paste, stir well, add beans and chili powder. If mix is too dry add water or tomato juice. Simmer 10 minutes. Add peanut butter, cocoa/chocolate, and spices. Stir well. Cover and simmer five minutes. Makes 12 cups.

Baked Beans - 33 cents a serving

Ingredients:
1 lb small white navy beans
1 tsp meat tenderizer
1 smoky sausage sliced
1 tbs brown sugar
1 tbs tomato paste
1 tbs dried onion flakes
1 tbs corn flour

Recipe:
Wash beans, pick out any dark or broken ones. Soak overnight in water. In the morning, rinse, put in crockpot, cover with cold water. Add sliced sausage, meat tenderizer, brown sugar, tomato paste, and onion flakes. Turn crock pot to high and cook until beans are tender enough to mash easily with a fork or spoon. Put corn flour in a cup or small bowl, spoon liquid from beans into corn flour and mix until it becomes a thick gruel with no lumps. Add to the crockpot and stir in completely to thicken juice.

Mama's Pasta sauce - 32 cents per half cup serving

Ingredients:
1 lb ground sirloin
1 medium onion, diced
1 cup sliced white or brown mushrooms
3 cloves garlic minced
1/3 red bell pepper, diced
1/3 green bell pepper, diced
1 large can diced tomatoes, or two large fresh tomatoes diced
1 tbs tomato paste
1 cup tomato or V-8 juice as needed
1 tsp Mrs Dash herb and garlic seasoning
1 tsp each rosemary, marjoram, thyme,
1-2 tsp vinegar

Method:
Cook ground sirloin in large pot until all pink is gone; add diced onion, garlic, mushrooms and peppers, cook until onions are transparent and mushrooms are cooked through. Add tomatoes and tomato paste, stir well. Add Mrs. Dash's, rosemary, marjoram thyme and vinegar. If mix is too dry add tomato juice or V-8. Simmer for 10 minutes. Makes 24 - 1/2 cup servings.

The Ambitious Housewife

2011-06-23T20:14:00.004-07:00

Any time I get ambitious enough to cook up a batch of anything it's wise to take a photo! But I seem finally to be pulling out of the energy hole moving put me into, and either I'm possessed by my younger self or it's a swan song, because I spent two or three hours cooking today.

There are many days when I don't feel much like cooking, so having something in the freezer is a real bonus. Plus Tony's favorite snacks are baked beans (cold from the can - shudder) and creamed corn (cold from the can - gag) . And while there's no accounting for taste I sometimes worry about the amount of Bisphenol A he could be ingesting from all those can linings.

So, since baked beans are the world's easiest food to make, I decided to replace his canned beans with home-cooked ones. And, as we shopped yesterday I found several bargains, which combined with food from my pantry, inspired me and turned me into the cooking queen today.

When you compare home-cooked with buying prepared food you really save money, which is something lots of people are thinking about right now. I made 24 - 1/2 cup servings of pasta sauce, 12 - 1 cup servings of chili, and six servings of those baked beans Tony loves so much.

Aside from knowing that what he's eating doesn't have gluten in it, I have a bunch of meals in the freezer available for those nights when I am not feeling up to cooking. And I saved a bundle! Compare the costs of what I cooked with the costs of the same items bought.

A can of generic baked beans at WalMart = 87 cents for 400 grams = .00217 cents a gram. Home cooked baked beans = .00128 cents a gram. The entire batch cost $2.00 to make, and I got 1560 grams of cooked beans, or six one serving containers. Taste? Tony pronounced them better.

Chili? Our "emergency" meal is a can of Stagg's chili and crackers. I buy the chili at WalMart (cheapest place for them) at a cost of $2.67 a can (.006675 per gram). This is for 400 grams of chili, or a 200 gram serving for each of us. I made 12 - 250 g (1 cup) servings for $9.73 or .00325 a gram. Lots better chili too!

Then there was the pasta sauce. You can't buy pasta sauce like mine in the store, but I made 24- 125 g (1/2 cup) servings, for $7.67 or .002556 a gram.

In each case I saved approximately half and ended up with a far tastier and healthier product, made with no added fat, a generous number of vegetables and no preservatives or chemical additives.

Recipes? Tomorrow

Love in the Afternoon

2011-06-20T21:27:00.003-07:00

Salvador the Feline Overlord had a hairball and puked in three places in rapid succession in the middle of the day.

Tony decided to pick up puke pool #3 but (as he is very nearly blind, and in this case cat puke and laminate flooring were very much the same colour) he ended up walking through it instead.

He tracked it over half the kitchen and into the bedroom while bent over peering at the floor saying, "What? Where? WHAT?" while I yelled, "Fer Gawds sake STAND STILL!"

I was going to mop anyway.

Funny what passes for love in the afternoon, when you are retired!

KIVA Loans for June 2011

2011-06-17T21:12:00.004-07:00

Going all out this month and making two KIVA loans, because the repayments coming back from those we have lent money to in the past year or so has provided enough money to make two new loans! While we usually loan money to women, tomorrow is Father's Day, and in honor of my dear husband Tony and my dear departed Dad, Charlie, I decided to choose two men as the recipients of these loans.

Our first loan goes to Bayardo Ines Ramirez of Nicaragua, who has asked for a loan of $400.

Bayardo has a tricycle taxi service. He is very responsible and enjoys his work, and this is the first time he has requested a loan. Although the work is steady and he has been able to make a living, he does not have sufficient capital to buy new tires, make needed repairs and reupholster the passenger seat of his tricycle taxi. This small loan will enable him to maintain his taxi and continue to earn a living.

Our second loan goes to Miguel Ernesto in El Salvador. Miguel is a young man who lives with his wife and their two-year-old son. Miguel plants beans on a small plot of land. He sells some of the crop and also helps to feed his family with it. He is getting ready for the harvest and is requesting a loan of $300 to purchase better quality seeds and fertilizer for his field.

The loan will makes a significant difference to Miguel's success. The new seeds will help him generate a good harvest to take to market. Miguel's dream is to be able one day to buy his own house, and live with dignity with his family.

We are happy to help in some small way Bayardo and Miguel to achieve their goals for themselves and their families.

A Celebration of Rachel Carson's Life

2011-05-28T11:17:00.002-07:00

Rachel Carson's work had a major formative influence on my life. The impact of her life can hardly be overestimated.

Thank you Dear.
Rest Peacefully,

Ever a Fan

Happy Anniversary!

2011-05-27T17:18:00.003-07:00

My Dear Parents,

It is your 46th anniversary today.

Frankly, it's shameful.

As a representative of a younger generation, I feel that it is my duty to explain that most people have the common decency to end their marriages after a suitable period of "trying to make it work". An appropriate time for this would have been thirty to forty years ago, but it still isn't too late.

I realize that, in having a marriage that has lasted longer than a decade, I provide a poor example for you, but I blame you for this. While many of my peers received important life lessons by having their parents painfully divorce at a young age, I was stripped of this important character-building opportunity and instead had to rely on my
own devices. Thankfully, I learned to run away, start fires, skip school and otherwise add difficulty to my life at a young age.

I know that little that I say will have an impact on your unconventional life choices and suspect that you plan to continue your unrelenting celebration of love, while simultaneously flaunting your ability to thrive and do good amid overwhelming hardship.

Still, I urge you to change your ways before the Rapture.

Sincerely,

Elbas T. Batshit, Esq.

# # #

Seriously now.

I wish you both all the happiness that there is. Your love for the other and your commitment to carrying your family through even the most difficult times is an inspiration.

All my love,
Zak

May KIVA Loan

2011-05-14T18:36:00.004-07:00

Our KIVA loan this month goes to Doreen of Hoima Uganda, who 41 years old. Doreen is married with seven children aged five to 21 years old, and a dependent grandchild. Her husband is a driver. Her goal is to educate her children and see them able to sustain themselves.

Doreen has operated a produce business for five years. She started by growing tobacco and then changed to her current business selling maize. She faces a challenge due to the maize business being seasonal. She wants to diversify into selling beans and groundnuts.

This is our 25th KIVA loan, and we're pleased to be able to help Doreen and other hard-working small business people around the world achieve their goals and provide better living conditions and futures for their families.

Thank you KIVA, for giving us this opportunity!

Note to self:

2011-05-08T12:05:00.005-07:00

Avoid Norovirus in future.

I've been about as genial as a bear with a burr under his tail the past ten days. I am very careful to use hand sanitizer while out and about, and before we sit down for lunch while we are out shopping. Who knew that alcohol-based sanitizers are not effective against norovirus? This is a glaring oversight in the information doled out to us on how to remain infection free.

Henceforth I travel with an electric kettle, a #3 tin washtub, a bar of carbolic soap, and towels. I will bathe at the table before eating my out-to-lunch lunch. Other patrons will avert their eyes or I will not be responsible for the life-long damage to their tender pysches.

So, grouse and grump have been the order of the day the past while, in between trips to the potty. However reading this on a blog I follow cheered me to no end. I just love sentimental poetry.

Great Rules of Writing

Do not put statements in the negative form.
And don't start sentences with a conjunction.
If you reread your work, you will find on rereading that a
great deal of repetition can be avoided by rereading and editing.
Never use a long word when a diminutive one will do.
Unqualified superlatives are the worst of all.
De-accession euphemisms.
If any word is improper at the end of a sentence, a linking verb is.
Avoid trendy locutions that sound flaky.
Last, but not least, avoid cliches like the plague.
~ William Safire

Beginning to feel like home

2011-04-26T12:37:00.006-07:00

As you can see I finally got around to replacing my lost camera. Somehow I can't seem to get enthused about blogging without a photo or two to drop into a post.

Of course one of my first photos was one of the Overlord, he of the red hair, green eyes and monumental attitude. For those who are wondering, he has made a smooth transition to condo life.

But I also tested my new camera by taking a few pictures of the living room. Nothing like a photo to show you what still needs to be done (lots) but those who have been asking what the place is like can get an idea.

One of the quirks of this condo is that the living room has no window. There's a six-foot wide door off the hall, so it's more or less open-plan. I don't actually mind, as it gives us more room to hang paintings. I've hung maybe half of our paintings so far and am wondering which ones will end up in the closet. If we had windows in this room I'd have no room at all for paintings!

In a few days we'll have been here six weeks, and while we still aren't entirely unpacked or organized some order is beginning to emerge from the chaos, as evidenced by books, DVDs, CDs and various junque loaded into the bookcases.

At the end is one of the many model ships Tony built over the years, and in front of it the "host" chair from the dining room set. Over the TV is a cut-away model Tony made of the structure of a clipper ship - from a cereal box. On it sits a tiny dory he built and a miniature three-masted sailing ship which was a gift from friends many years ago.

Taking a cue from the model ships and our collection of shells gathered by family and friends and the half-dozen or so sea-themed paintings we turned this into the "sea wall". Though I love all of these paintings, my favorite has to be the large one to the far left. Tony's mother bought it 50 years ago from a Norwegian Canadian named W. Raade who travelled through Canada in the 1950's and 60's selling his oil paintings door-to-door from the back of a station wagon. It captures all the moody restlessness of waves lifted by an approaching storm.

The stack-of-books coffee table cleaned up nicely. I retouched the spots where the leather had been wet and had faded, glued down the loose bits of leather and rubbed it down with brown shoe polish and it looks great. Still old, and well-loved, but full of character in a way a new piece would lack. It also makes a great runway for a tissue paper and balsa model plane Tony built by looking at pictures in a book. Sadly, I ruined my chances for the "Martha Stewart room stylist" job, when I took this picture with lots of evidence that this is a "lived-in" space lying about.

What I really need is a picture of Salvador lying on the sofa with his four feet in the air, totally comfortable and happy. Somehow the flowered sofa provides perfect "catouflage". (He's just about been sat on a number of times.)

But with cat and our rockers in place it is a comfy room, and while it might not be a candidate for a chic Apartment Therapy home tour it is filled with items we love which make us feel comfortable. And what more could you ask of home?

April KIVA Loan

2011-04-08T17:59:00.001-07:00

Our April KIVA loan goes to Manushak Mkrtchyan, who is the same age as our older son. She is a widow with three children who lives in Kapan Armenia.
Her two sons are still living at home but her daughter is married and she lives separately. Manushak’s younger son is a student. Her elder son helps her with her business, which consists of fruits and vegetable trading in Kapan market.

Previously, Manushak sold clothing but decided to become a produce vendor because food trading is more profitable. Part of Manushak's income goes towards her younger son’s education and the rest part supports her family.

This is Manushak’s seventh loan. She will use her loan to buy tomatoes, cucumbers and fruits to resell.

A Stack of Books - What Else?

2011-03-27T20:39:00.009-07:00

I'm not sure what most newlywed couples do the first few days as husband and wife (besides the obvious), but we spent an inordinate amount of time acquiring books. Lovely lovely books - including a 60-volume leather-bound set of The Great Books of the Western World.

We started our marriage reading that marvelous "first modern novel", The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote de la Mancha to each other before bedtime, and dreamed of owning a bookstore.

The book has been a recurring theme throughout our marriage, buying them, reading and rereading them, and even writing a few. We've literally read the covers off a few favorites, and had to find replacement copies.

So when I did my daily cruise through the Kijiji furniture ads last night I was entranced by a large and well-loved coffee table which was built to resemble a stack of three enormous leather-bound books. At 38" x 27" this is not a dainty piece of furniture. It weighs over 100 pounds.

No matter. It was furniture love at first sight. I called as early as I dared to check that no one had pounced on it as soon as it was offered. My heart was in my mouth. It was still available! Ian was off in the mountains climbing, but the owner said he'd hold it for me until the end of the day. I sent Ian several e-mails begging him to pick it up on his way home, and about 5:30 he called to say it was in his truck and he was on his way.

It needs a bit of love, the leather is dry, cracking and peeled back in some spots. A couple of the corners are damaged, it needs a bit of paint on the legs. But glory it is gorgeous! It fits perfectly in front of the sofa, and is great for throwing your feet up on, for a plate of snacks, to play a game on or assemble a puzzle.

As a bonus each of the three books is also a large shallow drawer which will hold the laptops, cords, back-ups drives, disks etc, paperwork, CDs, stationary, the kinds of things which quickly find their way to the bottom of a deeper drawer.

My camera is missing or I would take a photo of it in our living room, but in lieu of that I will post the pictures from the ad. I have to admit Tony was not at all sure he liked it, until he sat on the sofa and put his feet up and it suddenly dawned on him that this is not just a beat-up old stack of books we're talking about here. We're talking comfort and a significant amount of storage as well as a great conversation piece.

We also bought some shelving today so once we get it assembled we can begin to unpack the boxes of books, CDs, videos and other "shelf" stuff. We need a second shelving set just like the one we bought today, but will get it the next time we go to the store. Try as I might I could not find shelves the right size on Kijiji, so finally broke down and bought new.

We are a long way from being unpacked, but little by little the story writes itself.

Operator!

2011-03-26T03:07:00.005-07:00

I remember vividly trooping up the wide staircase of Robert E Lee Elementary (Duncan Oklahoma) at some point in the third grade to watch a film.

You have to remember this was in the early 50s, when few homes had TV, and a film in school was an event. In fact we'd looked forward to it for a week, and had fidgeted and waited impatiently for our turn as other classes marched past our first floor classroom door on their way to see "the movie".

When we were finally settled into the desks in the large third floor room and the lights were dimmed we were shown how to use the technological marvel of the age through the story of a boy whose puppy had gone missing. Alas! The boy was an unschooled ninny who did not understand how to use the rotary dial telephone to call the appropriate puppy-seeking authorities. (High Drama! We were as entranced as today's 10-y-o at a "Harry Potter" movie.)

To that point you simply picked up the phone and yelled "Operator! Give me 21!" - or 723 - as the case might be, or "Stumpie Busby's". (Everyone knew Stumpie's number, he was the local bootlegger.) So film star and Puppy-Loser stood and fruitlessly shouted "Operator! Operator!" at the mysterious and previously unheard signal coming from the receiver, the dial tone.

Thankfully Puppy-Loser's kindly Mr. Rogers-like friend came along and showed him, with great care, how one uses a rotary dial. Place your finger in the hole over the number desired and rotate the dial around until it stops. Release, choose your next number, rotate the dial ALLLLLL the way around until it stops, release, repeat, etc. (Four digits in those days!)

"PL" was told he might get a beeping "busy" signal, otherwise wait for the ringing to begin. Your "party" (we called people we phoned the party in those quaint days) will answer the phone. No operator will announce that they are now on the line. You must say, "Hello!" when you pick up a ringing phone, and that is what you wait to hear before speaking.

This was breathtaking stuff which prepared the elementary aged school child to go home and show the parents how to use the baffling rotary phones which were being installed the following weeks. I proudly showed my puzzled parents this new age marvel myself, while my father shook his head in astonishment.

Now, we move 55 years forward. The Shaw guy hands me a "Universal remote" which will supposedly allow me to watch the flat screen high-def TV on my living room wall and then he makes a hasty retreat. Do I get an informative movie, or even a demo on how to use this device, with its hundred buttons, each of which has four dozen functions? No, I get a 75 page instruction book which tells me (supposedly) how to turn on the &^*% TV - but doesn't.

I hold it up and shout Operator! Operator! at it. Nothing. The TV is dark. It's 2011. The operators have all gone home.

I want to go back to third grade.

In Reverse

2011-03-19T16:53:00.003-07:00

AKA "unpacking". We have unpacked all the necessary-for-life stuff and are mostly down to boxes of books, pictures, CDs, DVDs and odds and ends. This is not to say that things are organized. That will take some time. Ask again in a month. Nonetheless we are pleased with the progress we have made so far.

We have to wait to unpack the books etc. we brought with us until we buy the hutch and some bookcases. Once we do that the stored books, china and pictures can come "home" from where they have been parked the past four and a half years.

One of the moving helpers carrying in the 10th or so box of books, looked at me and said, "I went through my books and weeded out the extras before I moved." I'm not sure she believed me when I said I had.

We've begun to buy furniture. Since we spent Wednesday pining for comfortable chairs the first items on the to-buy list were two comfortable chairs and a sofa, which we bought Thursday. Now we need a hutch and dining room table, bookcases and perhaps an end table.

As far as furniture is concerned I decided that whatever that's comfortable and I love will work. When I eventually find the camera I'll take pictures but I bought a French Provincial sofa, a lovely thing - silk with big flowers. (eye roll)

I have not a single flowered garment in my wardrobe, nor a ruffle, nor anything particularly girly. My decorating tastes are still a mystery to me. If I didn't love this sofa so much I'd say I was nuts. All the cat has to do is walk across it with extended claws and we'll have instant "shabby chic". I also bought a matched pair of very comfy swivel rockers with traditional rolled arms, in a burgundy velvet corduroy, which picks up the burgundy bits in the sofa pattern.

I may have to thumbtack a "Guns and Roses" poster to the wall to off-set the granny vibe. Except I couldn't stand to look at a Guns and Roses poster. I'm hoping some contemporary bookcases will help. I don't know why I'm worried. Visitors always just look at the cat anyway, so I could probably have thrown an old mattress on the floor and no one would have noticed. When a 21.8 pound red cat stands in the middle of the floor and demands attention everything else fades into insignificance. Weird thing. The sofa matches the cat. The background of the fabric is the same colour as the walls, sort of a rich latte, but there's some colour in there that makes the cat the perfect accessory. He thinks we bought it for him. I hope he's willing to share.

I guess I best admit I'm enjoying this entire process, though it's darned hard work.

The Newest Chapter

2011-03-16T10:24:00.003-07:00

In our continuing adventure.

Our trip was long (12 hours on the road) but uneventful aside from Salvador being car sick a couple of times. (Kids and cats!)

We arrived in Calgary well after dark, checked into the hotel and had the fitful night's sleep that comes with too much of a change in diet, schedule, activity level, and everything else.

But now 'tis Wednesday and we have taken possession of our new cozy little home. We've just about exactly doubled the space we had in the trailer, at 588 sq ft. We have a kitchen/dining room, a living room/den, and a bedroom, plus of course a bathroom, and a cleverly designed laundry and linen room adjacent to the bathroom.

Sixteen running feet of eight foot tall closet, including these twin four foot closets in the bedroom and an eight foot one in the hall. Plus a linen closet. After a grand total of three running feet of a 40" tall closet this amount of closet seems enormous! We've decided one closet will be used primarily for storage.

We've learned already that we can turn off the heat entirely - the ambient temperature of the building keeps us at a steady (too warm) 23 C (73 F) degrees. You can tell a difference in the temperature when you turn on the lights, which means all need to be replaced with CFLs by summer, but also indicates that this nice new building is energy efficient. Even though it's snowing outside it's not cold or drafty standing next to the large patio doors in the kitchen/dining room.

The kitchen is cute but was clearly designed by someone seven feet tall who never cooked. This will take some working out, but I will need a hutch to store dishes and small appliances.

We're slowly opening boxes and putting things away. May not be the final spot for everything but at least things will be off the floor and out of the way. Ian will bring the few things we have from storage, and bit by bit we will acquire the rest of the furniture we need, buying high quality pre-owned pieces off Kijiji, Craig's List, local shops etc. Better for the environment than buying newly manufactured and perhaps not so durable goods.

We are very very tired. It may be some time before we are fully recovered, but we could never have done it alone! We had wonderful help from sons Zak and Ian and from Ian's friends Flo, Joanne and Ronda. And our excellent realtor Monika Furtado who put an extraordinary amount of time and effort into finding us a comfortable home.

Thanks also to all our friends in Summerland who came by to say goodbye and wish us well. We look forward to seeing you when you come to Calgary, and to keeping in touch via the Interwebs!

Happy Birthday to Albert!

2011-03-14T17:16:00.000-07:00

“A human being is part of a whole, called by us the Universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separated from the rest a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circles of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”

-Albert Einstein (14 March 1879 – 18 April 1955)

Goodbye Summerland

2011-03-11T23:04:00.002-08:00

Tomorrow morning we hit the road, a day earlier than anticipated. This is a good thing, as the weather forecast is better for tomorrow than the following day, and we'll have a day to recover between travel and lawyer.

As usual the last minute packing is terrifying. The last few days I seem to lose all my organizational skills and can't decide what to pack, when to pack it or whether to pack it at all, or just throw it away. I dither.

So I was delighted when Ian and his friend Flo arrived at noon and immediately began to organize, pack and load things into the truck. Within a few hours most of the work was done, and it was apparent we could leave tomorrow morning, rather than Sunday.

An hour's work tomorrow morning, packing up the last few items we needed to keep out, doing a quick sweep, dump the tank, blow the deck free of debris, and we should be on the road by 8:00 am.

We'll tank up on coffee in town and get breakfast in Kelowna, hoping to make the pass before the afternoon warming starts to loosen the snow pack enough to force road closures due to avalanche hazard.

It's been a week of goodbyes, which are always hard. Friends have been so kind, we've had a parade of people dropping by for one last quick visit. From shop clerks and waitresses at our favorite restaurants, to the woman who delivers our prescriptions, over and over we've been told that we will be missed. And we will miss them too.

There will be memories of swans

2011-03-06T15:53:00.003-08:00

Today the garden went. I put the word out on freecycle that my garden needed to come out, and today at 2:00 some very nice people came with shovels, pails, bins and pots to dig out and cart away about 90% of my garden. (snif) It was lovely while it lasted, but now a new gardener has lavender, hyacinths and hostas, and a family from Princeton has dozens of plants for their new garden.

We did finally buy a new home in Calgary, though not in a 55+ building, as it is impossible to get mortgage insurance on a condo in an age-restricted building. But it's a nice place, in a nearly new (2004) building, it's accessible and well-located for shopping. We're looking forward to seeing old friends in Calgary again, and getting reestablished in our community there.

We also have sold our little Beach House, which is going to be moved to a new site. Hence the need for the garden to be removed. The park's new owners are pouring great heaps of gravel on sites as they are vacated, and the garden would simply be smothered under tons of rock, which I couldn't bear. So not only we three but the plants are migrating.

We've spent the last weeks running errands and packing. We're now down to the items you use frequently enough to make it a nuisance to be without them. Zak came for a week and did a huge amount of work while he was here.

But mostly we have packed slowly and used the opportunity to rid ourselves of things we no longer need or want. We have freecycled a truckload of stuff, from boxes of fabric to photo albums, appliances and garden furniture. There's something really quite satisfying in being able to share an item with someone who might otherwise have bought it or gone without.

And we've enjoyed the trumpeter swans who have come to stay on our beach, the robins who are returning, the heron perched in a tree by the side of the road, the many quail who come to eat the seed I throw out, and the large flock of Bohemian wax-wings who landed briefly in a tree just outside (presumably to decide where to go next as they left five minutes later and have not returned). The first of the warblers have arrived back. They sang Salvador and I along on our walk this morning, like little musical lemon-drops.

We went out to dinner with our neighbours Art and Ruth and the former park managers Linda and Judy on Friday night. After dinner we all went to Art and Ruth's and visited for a couple of hours. Ruth is another genealogist. As we were leaving I remarked that I'd received the first "pen and paper" request for genealogical information I'd gotten in years that day. Ruth laughed and said, "We used to do it all that way," and she picked up a worn folder with the name Christopher Hussey on it. "Like this," she said, opening the folder. "These ancestors of Art's, I don't even have them entered in the tree yet, after how many years." The pages were so worn they were falling out of the binding. But I looked at the name and blinked.

Christopher Hussey was my 6th great-grandfather. Art is also a grandchild of Christopher Hussey. Which makes us cousins of some distant degree. So now not only am I leaving friends we have come to love, we are leaving family behind as well!

And to top it off, once I looked at Christopher Hussey's pedigree I realized he was a descendant of the Bowes (Bowes-Lyon) family, who were the Queen Mum's family. So, our former neighbour (who was an English Lord and cousin to the Queen Mum) was also a very distant cousin. I wish I'd known that then. His wife would have been so tickled.

Anyway, Ian arrives Friday and we will be taking possession of our new home Tuesday week. Since I am only rambling and need to pack at least one more box to obtain any sense of satisfaction from the day I'd best go do that.

Love itself...

2011-02-22T23:26:00.004-08:00

I guess I must admit to being on a bit of a Leonard Cohen binge at the moment. My friend Liz said to me earlier today, "His voice makes me want to slit a pulsing artery, mine or his," but I'm loving the work he's produced since becoming a Zen Buddhist monk.

Cohen has been a practicing Jew all his life but says of his adherence to Zen; "[In] the tradition of Zen that I've practiced, there is no prayerful worship and there is no affirmation of a deity. So theologically there is no challenge to any Jewish belief..."

In this song there are echoes of the Heart Sutra which says; ... form is emptiness and the very emptiness is form; emptiness does not differ from form, form does not differ from emptiness; whatever is form, that is emptiness, whatever is emptiness, that is form, the same is true of feelings, perceptions, impulses and consciousness. ... Gone, gone, gone beyond, gone altogether beyond, O what an awakening..

The light came through the window,
Straight from the sun above,
And so inside my little room
There plunged the rays of Love.

In streams of light I clearly saw
The dust you seldom see,
Out of which the Nameless makes
A Name for one like me.

I’ll try to say a little more:
Love went on and on
Until it reached an open door –
Then Love Itself
Love Itself was gone.

All busy in the sunlight
The flecks did float and dance,
And I was tumbled up with them
In formless circumstance.

I’ll try to say a little more:
Love went on and on
Until it reached an open door –
Then Love Itself
Love Itself was gone.

Then I came back from where I’d been.
My room, it looked the same –
But there was nothing left between
The Nameless and the Name.

All busy in the sunlight
The flecks did float and dance,
And I was tumbled up with them
In formless circumstance.

I’ll try to say a little more:
Love went on and on
Until it reached an open door –
Then Love itself,
Love Itself was gone.
Love Itself was gone.

The Feline Overlord Turns Twelve!

2011-02-14T13:36:00.003-08:00

Valentine's day is not a day of hearts, roses and sweet nothings in this household. Oh no! Valentine's Day here is the birthday of the Feline Overlord of the Household, a day when we do (the usual and proper) reverence to He Who Must Be Obeyed.

A newborn kitten looks so innocent, but behind those "adore me" looks lurk a quick intelligence and a natural flair for leadership. Just give him a few months.

Last night at midnight I was awakened (for the second time since retiring at 10:45) by the poke of a paw on my face. This, plus head butts to my nose, signals that my services are required. He wanted to go out and sniff the night air, have a meal and a "cookie".

The night time meals are not just because he's spoiled, but are part of the routine we use to keep his blood sugar stable. He's diabetic, but by feeding him a very low carbohydrate canned cat food and feeding him a spoonful at a time both day and night he has not required an insulin injection in over three years.

I put a teaspoon of food in his dish, put out two "cookies" (pieces of high-grade crunchy cat food). Then, as expected I stand by the door and wait for the scratching that signals his desire to come back in.

Ten minutes later I stumbled back to bed, he curled up with his arms around my neck, buried his face in my shoulder, and we went back to sleep.

At 4:00 am he woke me by vigorously scratching on the wall by the bed. "Service please." Out to sit on the step for five minutes, a meal, a cookie. Back to bed, with him snuggled up "spoon" style.

5:25, a poke in the face, accompanied by an insistent meowing. He has an indoor box, but he doesn't like using it. Outside for ten minutes, several of which are spent in loud and vigorous excavation of the cat box.

6:45, He wakes me by poking at me again. I give up and get up. The first things done are: 1) let the cat out 2) start the coffee 3) let the cat in 4) feed the cat 5) hold the cat in my lap.

You may well understand why we refer to him as the "Overlord". Today he's been fed, brushed, walked, held and rocked, petted, played a game of ball, knocked my jade tree out of its pot onto the floor, stood in the middle of the kitchen sink (which had water in it) to play in the water from the tap and left big wet tracks all over the counter. Now he is on the sofa, belly up, enjoying a well-earned rest.

Today is Sal's 12th birthday. He's slowing down, he limps a bit, he sometimes groans in his sleep and I worry about him and love him dearly. He is a delightful and engaging companion who is very adept at communicating what he expects from us. But he gives as much as he asks for.

Happy Birthday Salvador!

Purge, Pack, PANIC

2011-02-08T15:32:00.004-08:00

Barring unforeseen circumstances we have found a new home. YAY! It only took five months of looking, and two failed offers before this one was accepted. Very much like a visit to Brimstone and Lucifer Dental Surgery.

But I won't address the difficulties of that process here, the one ahead of us is daunting enough. We have to be in Calgary to sign papers one month from today. (Gulp) Hence the "purge, pack, panic title of this post. So, how does one organize a move when you have limited energy stores?

You set up a system

Knowing this move was coming I bought a stack of 2" square post-it notes in four neon colours, orange, hot pink, lime green and eye-watering yellow. Each room in our new home is designated with a colour and a letter code:

Living Room (LR) is Orange
Kitchen/Dining room (KIT) is Pink
Bedroom (BED) is Green
Bathroom/laundry/linens (BATH) is yellow

As I pack each box it gets a colour sticker with the room code written on it, a number and a priority letter code "A", "B" or "C".

"A" boxes contain items we need on a daily basis, and which must be unpacked immediately.
"B" boxes are items needed less frequently, but at least weekly.
"C" boxes can wait until everything we need to manage comfortably has been unpacked and put away. "C" items are pictures, fancy china, books, and tchotchkes, which despite a rather dismissive definition in wikipedia, in Canada anyway suggests items imbued with an aura of sentimentality or personal significance.

I record what goes into each box as I pack it, then code it - colour, room, number and priority. So a box with a pink label may have the code LR #3 C. If I find I need a specific item as we unpack all I need do is search the list with my "find" function and I'll know what box to look for.

The brightly coloured post-it notes enable a quick sort as boxes come in the door. I remember too many nightmare moves where the helpers don't have a clue where a box is to go, so the very box you need for the first night gets buried under a pile in the middle of the kitchen floor, or the pile in the bedroom - or... did it come in at all?

All you have to do is stick the right colour post-it on the doorway to the room and say, "Match the colour of the sticker on the box to the sticker on the door." If the label says "A" put it to the side.

I start packing "C" items obviously, so today the paintings came off the walls, the curio cabinet was emptied, the pretty cups and tea set, some reference books, and other small items were packed.

I'll cull and purge as I go. I'm not taking anything that is borked in any way unless getting rid of it would cause deep emotional turmoil. Things I do not absolutely love are outta here, to be passed to someone who will love and use them. I even organized. For some unexplainable reason we have two large photo albums, each only half full. I pulled the pictures from one and put them in the other, and will pass the other perfectly good album to the thrift shop.

That's my "sit-down" time used up. Back to packing! How do you prepare for and organize a move?

Our February KIVA Loan

2011-02-08T08:31:00.002-08:00

Our KIVA loan this month goes to Deggo Book Ligguey, a group of nine women in Senegal who work together to improve their lives.

In this Group: Bobatora Diedhiou, Christine Assine, Rosalie Sagna, Rougui Diedhiou, Marie Boya Diedhiou, Méta Diatta, Héléne Diatta, Francisca Diatta, Solinda Silva.

The Deggo Book Ligguey solidarity group was created three years ago. It is composed of nine women. These women advocate harmony within their group, which allows them to feel very close and cooperative in their business activities. They have all invested in small stores, buy their products in one place and set the same price.

Mrs Marie Boya Diedhiou, standing right in the picture and raising her hand, chairs the group. She is 33 years old, married and the mother of four children. She sells palm oil, brooms and lemons. The Microfinance loans she was granted so far have enabled her to expand her business to Dakar, the capital of the country. Now she participates more in the education of her children. She also is able to contribute to general household expenses.

In a group loan, each member of the group receives an individual loan but is part of a group of individuals bound by a group guarantee. Under this arrangement, each member of the group supports one another and is responsible for paying back the loans of their fellow group members if someone is delinquent or defaults.

Snow Day...

2011-02-06T14:22:00.003-08:00

Thankfully we went to town to shop yesterday, when it was a blistering 6 degrees C (42.8 F) because while prognostications are that it will reach 8 C (46.8 F) tomorrow today we have snow! It's snowing very heavily and is supposed to snow all night, turning to rain as it warms.

Our neighbour Art, who was out cheerfully shoveling first thing, said, "It's so wet you could almost pump it!"

It's very still, and very quiet, in that muffler and scarf sort of way only heavy snow brings. The world drops away at the edge of the road. It's quite lovely, especially since I don't have to drive in it, shovel it, or otherwise endure it.

In the garden the Kanji lantern is buried up to its shoulders, with a perfect cap of snow on top. The garden is a hummocky bed of white, with only the tallest bits peeking out from under the blanket.

Sal is disgruntled, since he'd like a walk but doesn't walking in wet belly-deep snow. He sits on the step and glares.... Maine Coons are supposed to be impervious to snow, but he hates the wet kind. When it's dry he'll walk on it, but walking in this is too much like a cold bath to be any fun.

We won't complain. It's been a mild winter and we should be through the worst of it now. The days are visibly longer, this will give the earth a much-needed drink, and the earth continues to spin on its axis.

Ring the bells that still can ring...

2011-01-31T11:36:00.002-08:00

There is a crack, a crack in everything,
That's how the light gets in,
That's how the light gets in...

Hallelujah! and Happy Birthday!

2011-01-30T10:49:00.001-08:00

Happy 70th Birthday Tony, and Hallelujah, not because as Cohen says in his song, "it all went wrong", but because it's all gone right, and I stand before the Lord of Song with nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah! for the years you've shared with me.

This video affords a 360 degree view from a helicopter as it flies above Nimmo Bay, turquoise-coloured rivers, the coastal mountains and glaciers. It's like being in the cockpit. You can look ahead, to the sides, down and behind. Probably the most magnificent look at the province we live in that I have ever seen.

Click to start the video:

January KIVA Loan

2011-01-08T00:04:00.003-08:00

Manuel Lara Quillay

And as a nod to my fine husband who is soon to turn 70, our 22nd KIVA loan goes to 70 year-old farmer Manuel Lara Quillay, who is married and lives with his wife in Chillanes Canton, Bolívar province Ecuador. Manuel and his wife have five children.

Manuel is a corn and broad bean farmer. His purchases and sales both take place at the Chillanes Canton Market on Sundays. He asked for a loan to buy seed, manure and fertilizer so that his crops will grow well and be of good quality. The loan will help him economically to meet the farmer's seasonal challenges like insect infestations, plant diseases and variations in the weather.

His hope is for continued good health so he can carry on working and provide an education for his children. His dream is that they can improve their lives through education.

Good luck Manuel, we will be rooting for you in the months ahead!

Happy Birthday to Me!

2011-01-03T22:44:00.003-08:00

Ian knows what to get his Mama for her birthday. For the second year he sent me a KIVA gift certificate.

And seeing as how today I officially became a senior citizen, a golden oldie and one of the first of the boomers to turn 65 I decided to find someone "old like me" to loan my money to.

Now, there's no telling how old is "old" but the KIVA description says Mr. Thai Hong and his wife, Mrs. Sakhorn Sbaung are "old", but still strong enough to work.

Mr.Thai Hong and his wife are rice and lotus farmers who live along National Road Number Six, about 20 kilometers from Phnom Penh Cambodia.

Farming is their main business, and you have to feel respect for anyone, let alone "old" people who can do the back-breaking work of maintaining a rice paddy. They asked for a $500 (USD) loan to purchase seeds, fertilizer and pesticide to maintain their farm.

So, in my small way I hope to give them a bit of a hand, and thanks to Ian for helping me do it! I'll make my regular monthly KIVA loan in a few days when the loan repayments have been credited to my account and the money is available to top up and loan out again.

As The World Turns

2011-01-02T13:30:00.004-08:00

Our little world anyway. Of course it turns daily, on its small pivot. The daily round of cook and clean, the conversation over morning coffee. But it's about to spin 180 degrees.

As much as we have loved it here, and regret leaving neighbours who have become valued friends, we've made the decision to return to Calgary. Many reasons, which I will not belabour, but we are looking forward to being close to Ian, and paradoxically, to Zak and Mandy, since they can combine visits to her family and us.

So we are looking for a condo in Calgary and will put the Beach House up for sale. Hopefully a new owner can be found who will love the flowers and garden, and enjoy the deck, as well as the glorified tin can itself.

Ian is serving as leg-man in Calgary, looking at condos and video-taping them for our inspection. Zak is coming in a couple of weeks to help purge and pack. Everything not essential to daily living will be packed, lots of extra flotsam will be tossed, donated and freecycled. (Amazing the amount of stuff one collects as soon as the wheels stop rolling.)

These four years have been an interesting experience. A good RV park is a community which you settle into, quickly or over time, depending on the situation. At Bel Air we were treated as old friends the day we arrived, as people came and went with the seasons and the atmosphere was very much "Hail fellow well met!".

Here the permanent residents are much more stable, many having been here for 10+ years, and though everyone was friendly and helpful from the first it took longer to find our place. But find it we did, and this has been a wonderful place to live. But we've realized that it's the community around you which makes a situation livable. We lived in a building in Calgary for 11 years, and got to know one neighbour in all that time. You might as well live on a desert island like Robinson Crusoe in one of those buildings.

So while looking for a place to buy in Calgary we found that there's an interesting form of housing there which is not available here. A development company has built four condo buildings with age restrictions - 55+ or 60+. These four buildings offer a wide range of amenities. Each resident owns their condo - an apartment with a complete kitchen, bath, bedroom, living room etc. but all share the building's common amenities. There are daily social activities, a bus for shopping trips, exercise, games and craft/hobby rooms. There's a library and a media/computer room. There are gathering places with comfy chairs, big screen TVs, fireplaces, and a dining room where you can have dinner if you don't feel like cooking. Each building adjoins a park with walking paths.

It's this kind of unit in a community that we are looking for. Alas, along with the age restrictions these buildings have pet restrictions. Only certain areas in each of the buildings will allow a cat and so far we haven't found the perfect match. But we will, or at least we hope so. The realtor just e-mailed to say the second of the three available buildings has enacted a new by-law and now doesn't allow pets. It's frustrating to say the least.

So, while we pack and purge and keep up a constant stream of e-mails with the realtor, the banker and Ian, we remind ourselves not to be sad or anxious that this wonderful phase of our lives is ending, or to worry about finding a new home, but instead to look forward to new challenges, new friends, and a new chapter in our ever-evolving adventure.

Continuing the countdown!

2010-12-22T11:26:00.002-08:00

These guys are awesome and as a "zebra" I appreciate a bit of Christmas on the Serengeti.

Christmas Week and All That Jazz

2010-12-20T09:48:00.005-08:00

Christmas is five days away, Ian and a friend are arriving on Christmas Eve and what does our householder have planned?

With the announcement that we'll be having guests for Christmas dinner my plans changed from chicken stew for the two of us to turkey and all the trims for four. I don't mind a bit, in fact I'm looking forward to it. One meal of turkey a year I can manage. But it does mean my late week market basket will be piled higher than I anticipated.

I'll also finish the painting in the kitchen that I didn't finish before. I don't know, motivation fled, or energy escaped or something... but I need to take care of that last remaining bit of brown linen wall.

We are now officially festive. Yesterday, I unGrinched and put up the Christmas tree (all 18" of it!), wound a pine garland around the molding over the sofa, put the salt dough ornaments we made in 1979 on it, and brought out a few of my favorite old toys.

Gifts, not much. I got a stocking stuffer for each of the kids, but we have followed through with our decision to make a KIVA loan each month, and support a few other charities, in lieu of buying Christmas gifts none of us really needs.

Outside, we've had another snowfall. Flurries were predicted and two inches fell. More snow is expected, so barring a sudden warming spell, our Christmas will be white, unless you count the colours of the birds which come to the seed I throw out for them each morning. A covey of 20 quail make a significant dent in a the birdseed budget, but I love their silly ways.

Let me see, where have I put the paintbrush?

Christmas Countdown

2010-12-19T16:54:00.001-08:00

And what can we say but, "Look for the bright spots and enjoy them to the fullest!"

Christmas Rerun

2010-12-13T22:29:00.001-08:00

But everyone loves the familiar at Christmas right? I love this song and clip from the British children's Christmas show, The Snowman

What's Past is Filed in a Manila Envelope

2010-12-12T23:11:00.005-08:00

I sat down today to do a job long postponed. As a genealogist for more than 30 years I have amassed an enormous collection of documents, maps, pedigrees, papers, bad photocopies of old pictures and a collection of family letters dating back to 1966.

This "mess" is loosely organized by surname into brown manila envelopes, tattered and pushed to the limits of their ability. For the past several years my horde has not fit into the two foot deep file box I have lugged along with each move. I had a stack of eight or ten "extra" envelopes piled beside the file box in the cupboard.

I spent the day sorting, discarding material I'd copied (just in case) which turned out to be an unrelated line, weeding out duplicate sheets - when we gained the ability to print our own documents at home it was always "better" to print two, three or four copies rather than one. Never know when you'd need an extra family group sheet for great-uncle Jeremiah Kast and his 21 children. Best safe than sorry!

I have reams of papers other people have sent, hoping we would have a link. Sort sort sort, toss toss toss.

The most difficult were the letters. No one writes real letters any more but we used to generate a steady flow of letters. I had several large envelopes absolutely groaning with hundreds of letters. Some were written to my parents by their siblings, there was a single letter from my father-in-law written shortly before he died, and many - dozens - from my sister, brother, sister-in-law, brother-in-law, aunts, and cousins. Reports of marriages, births, deaths, the gossip of small family scandals and an occasional triumph, the march of time captured in the neat or spidery scripts of writers who are almost all now returned to the quiet well of creation from which they sprang, to quote the Tao de Ching.

Most precious, I have a two-line letter from my father, who was one of the most intelligent men I have ever known, but who was almost completely illiterate. He was severely dyslexic, but in 1910 they just said he couldn't learn. In grade four he was removed from school and put to work in the fields. I had folded this little bit of paper away years ago, and thought its power might have diminished. It has not. He struggled so hard to write those two lines. It seemed a precis of his life.

The time will come when my sons will look at all this and shake their heads, and they will probably throw the whole collection away. Some genealogists leave their neatly catalogued family collections to the local library to flesh out the county history. There is no "local" of any consequence with my ancestors. They came from the four corners of the earth, rolled through state after state like tumbleweeds, moved with the seasons, took only their appetites and (most likely) left unpaid bills behind. The descendants are prosperous these days but I remember the terror in my parent's voices as they talked of trying to raise a family through the Great Depression.

There's 500 years of history in that file box, stories and journeys which began in France and Spain, in Shropshire and Wiltshire, Germany and Holland. Some whose ancestors came across the Bering Strait 20,000 years ago and who stood on the Eastern shore and watched the newcomers arrive. Don't be rough with them boys. Even if it's just for my sake. [Edit: Older son insists he is not the beer-swilling Nascar obsessed lout portrayed by his mother in this post, but a highly sensitive soul who appreciates his rich family history. He's a good boy, as is the younger one. Maybe they'll flip a quarter for the box of documents - I'll leave it to them to decide if it's the winner or the loser who babysits mother's paperwork through the next generation. grin ]

KIVA Loan for December

2010-12-07T12:03:00.002-08:00

This month our KIVA loan goes to 22 year old Azizov Sohib in the former Soviet republic of Tajikistan. He is married and has a small child. For more than five years Sohib has been running a joiner’s shop manufacturing wooden doors and window frames.

Hard-working young people like Sohib are the future of any nation. I admit a soft spot for those who produce beautiful joinery and carpentry, as both my father and brother were master carpenters who produced beautiful cabinetry, furniture, clocks and even houses. So, as a small remembrance to my brother Hall, who recently passed away, and my dad Charlie, who left us in November of 1985, a loan to a young man who carries on the tradition of beautiful woodwork.

Sohib is respected as a good worker in his neighborhood. His business generates a stable income allowing him to support his family and improve their living conditions. Now he needs to purchase additional materials for his manufacturing shop. For this reason he applied for a $1395.00 (USD) loan. This is Sohib's third loan, which he promises to repay his loan in a timely manner. He thanks everyone for their support.

Tajikistan has a rich history. It was along the Silk Road and the boundary of Alexander the Great's empire. The poets Omar Khayyam and Rumi were from Tajikistan. The country is home to communities that still speak the ancient Sogdian language, epic mountain passes, and a civilization that dates back to the 4th millennium BC. And, even today, it is a complex mixture of the Islamic faith, Soviet culture, New West culture and Central Asian traditions.

Tajikistan is now the poorest of the former Soviet republics. The civil war, which ignited soon after its independence from the U.S.S.R., further damaged the already weak economy. In addition, 93% of the country is mountainous and only 7% of the land is arable. These conditions have resulted in high levels of unemployment and have forced hundreds of thousands to seek work in other countries, mainly Russia. While the people of Tajikistan are working to improve its agricultural production and manufacturing sector, nearly two-thirds of the population still live in abject poverty. But with hard work and a little help Sohib and his family will not be among those living in poverty.

The Young Get It

2010-11-29T13:26:00.003-08:00

A 15 year-old boy understands the implications of our actions. This past week it was -30 C in Calgary, while at the same time it was not yet cold enough to freeze water at the Arctic Circle in Iqualuit Northwest Territories Canada. We are told the polar bears are starving because there's no sea ice, and after their six month summer fast they are running out of time.

My young friend Thomas, who lives in the Netherlands, just completed this video for his AV class assignment. We had some trouble deciding on how to translate a Dutch idiomatic word that means animals take only what they need and do not ravage the earth. I'm not sure we succeeded, but watch and see if you agree.

Hallelujah! Flash Mob

2010-11-27T23:11:00.003-08:00

One of my great joys used to be singing in the church choir. And this was one of my favorite songs. I may be one of the few people who listen to the entire "Messiah" year round. So this tickled me when I just found it.

Enjoy!

Asian Chicken Vegetable Soup

2010-11-15T16:38:00.003-08:00

One of my biggest faults as a cook is that while my experimentation sometimes results in something truly delicious I can rarely make that dish again. Tony says, "Write it down," and I say, "I will," and I put it off and forget what I used for ingredients and that's that! This time I will write it down! This soup is hearty, spectacular and was made from stuff in the fridge and pantry.

Ingredients:

2 cups cooked boned chicken
2 quarts water
1 large onion, diced
1 small can cooked pumpkin
3 bay leaves
2 tsp fresh grated ginger
1/2 tsp five spice mix
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
1 tsp Mrs Dash original mix
1/2 cup smooth "natural" peanut butter
1 cup dried mixed vegetable flakes (carrots, potato, onion, celery)
1 cup brown parboiled rice
salt to taste

Method:

Bring water to the boil, add boned chicken, bay leaves and diced onion. Reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes, add pumpkin, spices, vegetable flakes and peanut butter. Simmer for a further 10 minutes, add rice and stir. Stir occasionally and cook until rice is done.

A perfect dinner for a wet, chilly November evening.

This Island Earth

2010-11-14T17:12:00.003-08:00

Jonathan Edwards has been one of my favorite singer/songwriters for many years, and this is one of his beautiful and moving songs. Now in his mid-60s he can still stand up on a stage and sing live without a band, no lip sync, no electronic manipulation needed. And like most of his songs it leaves you thinking.

After seeing a video of a right-wing politician standing up in a congressional hearing in the USA to claim a verse in Genesis as proof that we need not give a damn about how we abuse or misuse the earth, because only God can destroy it, I sort of needed to hear this.

12 Nov 2010

2010-11-12T21:38:00.008-08:00

While the rest of the country has been walloped with floods and blizzards we still haven't had our first frost, although the hills above us have been brushed with snow and the breeze has a knife's edge. Nonetheless it was sunny this morning and while the moment lasted I went out with the camera to capture the late fall flowers.

The flowers around our Kanji lantern are still working hard. Only the top emerges from the chaos of greenery. The crystal palace lobelia is intensely purple-blue against the silver lamb's ear. The white roses are outdoing themselves, the sedums are stilll going strong, and behind them the tall stalks of toad lilies are frilled with dozens of delicate spotted blossoms. The peach-coloured mini roses and the candy striped red-and white climbers are blooming again after a late summer rest.

The hydrangeas in Ruth's garden next door are breathtaking. These blossoms have been on since mid-summer and are now sun-bleached. The leaves have turned a spectacular marbling of golds, bronzes and greens.

Along the fence the strawberries have dressed themselves in brilliant autumn colours. Even better they are still producing berries, and somewhat optimistically - blossoms! The leaves are almost as beautiful as flowers and on a grey day are like fireworks just outside the window.

Nestled down in the leaves tiny blue blossoms barely 1/4 of an inch across push up looking for a little sun. I'm not sure what these are, blue bacopia maybe - They probably escaped from a summer basket and have set up housekeeping along the fence. They look a bit like forget-me-nots but are a lovely ground cover.

Down the street Del's eight foot high rose bush is laden with a hundred blossoms and even more buds. This is another of those spectacular constant-bloomers which has been laden with flowers since July. The three inch wide roses are white, just barely tinged with pink.

Surely makes a morning walk enjoyable.

KIVA Loan for November

2010-11-07T10:27:00.003-08:00

While we usually loan to women, our 19th KIVA loan goes to a man, 40 year-old Santiago Llauce De La Cruz of Peru, a married man with five children. Santiago lives with his family in the San Carlos neighbourhood of the Arbolsol village, a rural area in the Morrope district, an hour and a half from the city of Chiclayo. The principle work here is farming and raising animals.

Santiago has raised and sold animals for ten years. He raises goats, pigs and poultry in pens installed outside his home. He sells his animals to buyers from the area and he also also sells them in the Morrope market. This business is the only source of income for his family so he works hard to make it as productive as possible.

Santiago has had a previous loan from Kiva. With that money, he was able to buy animal feed and his animals benefitted with better health and quicker growth, allowing them to be sold at a better price. He will use this loan to buy more young animals and animal feed and improve his business. He is very happy and thankful for the people that have collaborated with him through Kiva and he faces his future with optimism and energy.

That Breeze is Chilly

2010-10-30T15:35:00.003-07:00

Above us, snow on the hills. Here, leaves tumbling off trees and piling up in layers of colour on the grass, and (like sheep dressed in lamb) on the flowers in the garden.

Sal and I walk in the morning. I shiver in my coat and hat. The wind ruffles Sal's fur but he's immune to the cold. He stops to sniff every blade of grass, surveys the landscape with the narrowed eye of the artist, paints great swaths of invisible comment with the magnificent tail.

If he spies Blue he is instantly quivering anticipation.

Can we play can we play?

Yes! Blue gets on the other side of the chain link fence. The two of them run side by side, stop, switch directions, dance a bit, run some more. Blue comes across the fence and drops on the grass. Sal drops, watches, trembles.

Can we play can we play?

Blue spooks and makes a run, Sal is after him, but stays well back. Blue vaults the two foot high fence into Ruth and Art's yard. Sal stands up and looks over. Blue comes back to the fence. They lay almost nose to nose, separated by the safety barrier of a fence Sal could be over in a heart beat. Cats respect territorial boundaries.

The flowers continue to be spectacular. Roses expend the last of their season's colour and fragrance in an almost frenzied display. The compound flower heads of the sedum look like burgundy velvet broccoli. The lobelia is an almost painfully intense blue among the silver lamb's ears. The nasturiums have crawled up into the deck, the spiky-smelling yellow blossoms poke up and smile from underneath the stairs.

I look at it all and wonder how long it will be fresh in my memory? How long will I recall the tart smell of fallen leaves, keep the indigo colour on the lake safely locked inside, remember how a golden burst of leaves contrasts with the dark and brooding hills behind them?

I need to remember this day well, there will never be another just like it.

Life Edited

2010-10-28T12:02:00.002-07:00

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,
'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gain'd,
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come round right.

~ Shaker Hymn

Oh, Just think about it!

2010-10-23T11:45:00.003-07:00

You can't have everything. Where would you put it? ~ Steven Wright

Green Side Up

2010-10-22T16:21:00.003-07:00

I finally got to town yesterday. I would not have gone but the fridge echoed when you opened it. We were down to choosing between a spoonful of Mango Chutney or half a dozen garlic stuffed green olives for breakfast.

I had not been to town for errands or shopping in ten days, and there were several stops required. Pharmacy, post office, health food store, bank, grocer's. In that order. Between the health food store and the bank I stopped to have lunch. I needed to sit.

I guess I haven't said that three weeks back I had a round of food poisoning that has left me collywobbled. If I am on my feet for too long my blood pressure drops and things get a bit unpredictable. I'm still only good for short stints of activity, a "short stint" being about five minutes sandwiched between hour long rests. And there were several longer stints in there yesterday with very short rests.

By the time I had finished at the grocer's I was seeing grey clouds flicker across my field of vision and feeling like I might just flop onto the floor. The store found someone to load my groceries into the truck. I sat and waited until I had my breath (and blood pressure) back before I tried to drive.

But I started the great expedition at the pharmacy. I was standing at the pharmacy check-out and the conversation went like this:

Scene: L-shaped counter, little old man of 85+ buying lottery tickets on the L to my right. I am facing the clerk, my purchases on the counter. I am sort of clutching the counter to keep from falling.

She says: "That will be $18.00 please."

I look at her goggle-eyed. She hasn't yet rung me through so I am confused.

She looks at me, waiting for me to coff up the dough. She gives a jump, says, "Sorry! That's for this gentleman's lotto tickets! Some days I don't know whether I'm coming or going!"

He says, "That's nothing! Some days I don't know if I'm dead or alive!"

I say: "Any day on the green side of the grass is a gift."

She looks at me thoughtfully and says: "That's an attitude held only by people who face a lot of challenges."

Today I pay for yesterday's excursion. Three-minute stints and two hour rests. Not very productive. The grass is short, but I'm still looking at it from the green side. Life is a challenge at times but it's still a great gift.

Garden Update 2010

2010-10-20T16:08:00.001-07:00

Now that the garden beds are cleaned out it's time to take stock and think about what went well, what flopped and what we have learned.

We have learned:

1) An eight foot row of rainbow chard can make you the neighbourhood pariah. After X many bunches of chard the neighbours hide behind the curtains when they see you coming down the road. Plant a four foot row next year.

2) No one in their right mind needs 30 tomato plants. Except this year, when some produced one tomato (or none at all). Next year; six tomato plants and no more. Either pull or transplant the volunteers or they take over (and smother) everything around them.

3) Red potatoes are a great crop. I planted four potatoes cut into quarters 79 cents worth of seed potatoes) and dug out over five pounds worth. I'll plant more next year. We like red taters.

4) Beets are a pain. I grew nice ones, but have not enough dexterity and strength to process them. Skip next year.

5) The onions did well, the little red sets I bought made nice red bulbs.

6) The burgundy pole beans were fantastic. Too bad only five or six beans, of the 50 or so I planted, germinated. Even so those five or six plants kept us in beans for weeks. I'll plant more next year, as we could happily have eaten more.

7) Squash is a waste of time here. I don't have a spot with all day sun, and in partial sun they grow slowly, bear sparsely and are mostly mildew vectors. Another skip, after three years I've learned my lesson.

8) Our early salads and Asian greens were fabulous. I will go out and plant salad, Asian greens and kale in a few days, as the volunteer seeds which survived the winter last year to sprout in early spring were most appreciated and were weeks ahead of the stuff I planted in spring.

Besides planning on planting my salad greens, Asian greens and kale in a few days, I tried something else - experimentation being the fuel that drives my wee engine.

At the edge of my 4 x 4 in the back a large bunch of mushrooms had grown up in the past few days. Zak was here and did the major part of clearing the garden for me, bless him. When we had the ground cleared I pulled the mushrooms, broke them into small pieces and scattered them all over the surface of the garden. We covered the broken up 'shrooms with a light covering of soil and watered the area down.

My reasoning?

See, I'm saving the planet. :)

For my brother

2010-10-10T17:43:00.004-07:00

Hall Wayland Cavel - 14 June 1929 - 9 October 2010

Wild Grapes by Robert Frost

What tree may not the fig be gathered from?
The grape may not be gathered from the birch?
It's all you know the grape, or know the birch.
As a girl gathered from the birch myself
Equally with my weight in grapes, one autumn,
I ought to know what tree the grape is fruit of.
I was born, I suppose, like anyone,
And grew to be a little boyish girl
My brother could not always leave at home.
But that beginning was wiped out in fear
The day I swung suspended with the grapes,
And was come after like Eurydice
And brought down safely from the upper regions;
And the life I live now's an extra life
I can waste as I please on whom I please.
So if you see me celebrate two birthdays,
And give myself out of two different ages,
One of them five years younger than I look-

One day my brother led me to a glade
Where a white birch he knew of stood alone,
Wearing a thin head-dress of pointed leaves,
And heavy on her heavy hair behind,
Against her neck, an ornament of grapes.
Grapes, I knew grapes from having seen them last year.
One bunch of them, and there began to be
Bunches all round me growing in white birches,
The way they grew round Leif the Lucky's German;
Mostly as much beyond my lifted hands, though,
As the moon used to seem when I was younger,
And only freely to be had for climbing.
My brother did the climbing; and at first
Threw me down grapes to miss and scatter
And have to hunt for in sweet fern and hardhack;
Which gave him some time to himself to eat,
But not so much, perhaps, as a boy needed.
So then, to make me wholly self-supporting,
He climbed still higher and bent the tree to earth
And put it in my hands to pick my own grapes.
"Here, take a tree-top, I'll get down another.
Hold on with all your might when I let go."
I said I had the tree. It wasn't true.
The opposite was true. The tree had me.
The minute it was left with me alone
It caught me up as if I were the fish
And it the fishpole. So I was translated
To loud cries from my brother of "Let go!
Don't you know anything, you girl? Let go!"
But I, with something of the baby grip
Acquired ancestrally in just such trees
When wilder mothers than our wildest now
Hung babies out on branches by the hands
To dry or wash or tan, I don't know which,
(You'll have to ask an evolutionist)-
I held on uncomplainingly for life.
My brother tried to make me laugh to help me.
"What are you doing up there in those grapes?
Don't be afraid. A few of them won't hurt you.
I mean, they won't pick you if you don't them."
Much danger of my picking anything!
By that time I was pretty well reduced
To a philosophy of hang-and-let-hang.
"Now you know how it feels," my brother said,
"To be a bunch of fox-grapes, as they call them,
That when it thinks it has escaped the fox
By growing where it shouldn't-on a birch,
Where a fox wouldn't think to look for it-
And if he looked and found it, couldn't reach it-
Just then come you and I to gather it.
Only you have the advantage of the grapes
In one way: you have one more stem to cling by,
And promise more resistance to the picker."

One by one I lost off my hat and shoes,
And still I clung. I let my head fall back,
And shut my eyes against the sun, my ears
Against my brother's nonsense; "Drop," he said,
"I'll catch you in my arms. It isn't far."
(Stated in lengths of him it might not be.)
"Drop or I'll shake the tree and shake you down."
Grim silence on my part as I sank lower,
My small wrists stretching till they showed the banjo strings.
"Why, if she isn't serious about it!
Hold tight awhile till I think what to do.
I'll bend the tree down and let you down by it."
I don't know much about the letting down;
But once I felt ground with my stocking feet
And the world came revolving back to me,
I know I looked long at my curled-up fingers,
Before I straightened them and brushed the bark off.
My brother said: "Don't you weigh anything?
Try to weigh something next time, so you won't
Be run off with by birch trees into space."

It wasn't my not weighing anything
So much as my not knowing anything-
My brother had been nearer right before.
I had not taken the first step in knowledge;
I had not learned to let go with the hands,
As still I have not learned to with the heart,
And have no wish to with the heart-nor need,
That I can see. The mind-is not the heart.
I may yet live, as I know others live,
To wish in vain to let go with the mind-
Of cares, at night, to sleep; but nothing tells me
That I need learn to let go with the heart.

KIVA Loan for October

2010-10-06T17:44:00.003-07:00

Our October KIVA loan goes to a Peruvian woman, Asunta Inca De Cusi. Asunta is 63 years old, married, and has 3 children. She belongs to the communal bank, Nueva Victoria – Chinchero in the province of Urubamba and the department of Cusco, located 45 minutes from the city.

 Asunta has a grocery store and will use her loan to set up her store and purchase items for resale at wholesale price. She is requesting the loan to purchase rice, oil, and milk, among other products. She appreciates the loan and promises to make her payments on time.  

This is our 18th loan through KIVA, and all our active loans are being repaid on time. To this point we've never had a borrower default on a loan. KIVA makes it easy to make a positive difference in someone else's life.

A Good Day to Fly

2010-10-02T19:53:00.003-07:00

We've been hearing a Great Horned Owl frequently the past week, sitting in the big willow tree behind our place. I haven't seen them in several weeks but, as avid birders, today we had the chance to spend a most interesting and rewarding hour with a pair of GH owls.

SORCO (The South Okanagan Rehabilitation Centre for Owls) released two GH owls in the riparian area adjacent to our park this afternoon. These were young owls which had come into its care in March of this year. One had been blown from the nest at a young age, the other was a fledging who'd gotten tangled up in barbed wire and stripped all the feathers and skin off one wing, and required medical care and rehab before release.

Both youngsters have done well, have learned how to hunt catch mice and rats and are now at a point where they should be able to fend for themselves. Since the Trout Creek neighbourhood down the way, with its mega-million-$-mansions, is in the middle of a rat invasion, the folks at SORCO thought it a perfect habitat to release the young and hungry owls into.

The birds arrived in dog crates in the back of an SUV, and appeared to be very unimpressed with our gawking and their status as film stars. There was a long line-up for a chance to take photos of the caged birds. The one was too dark, but this one was better.

The release was scheduled for 2:00 pm. By 1:30 a sizable crowd was beginning to gather, and by 2:00 there must have been about 75 people there to witness the release.

We gathered in a large circle to watch Ken Fujino, SORCO's Executive Director, as he took the first owl from its crate and told us about the work SORCO does to rehabilitate birds of prey, including BC's 14 Owl species. Of the 16 species of owl in Canada, 14 are found in BC, and most of those are also found in the Okanagan.

Ken also said that it takes an average of $900 a bird to care for the injured and ill raptors which come through the clinic doors, and that they care for about 60 birds a year. They have an impressive 98% survival rate rearing baby birds, and about a 50% survival rate with older, injured or ill birds. And government funding dropped by 18% this year, leaving them in a tight financial spot. They had a donation box. At the end people were shoving $10s and 20s and even bigger donations in. It's a good cause. They rescue all the different types of injured and ill birds of prey found in the Okanagan; eagles, ospreys, hawks, falcons, vultures and owls.

Ken took the owl out of the box and held it by the ankles. It didn't panic, but you could tell it wasn't mentally composing fan mail to the SORCO director either, even though his knowledge of owls is extensive. It's apparently hard to impress an owl, who (judging by its expression) is so impressed by itself that humans are of about as much interest as the nearest fencepost.

As Ken talked the owl alternated between attempts at escape, giving Ken the stink eye and pretending it was somewhere else. But after five minutes, and lots of opportunity for photos, Ken lifted the bird and tossed it aloft. The crowd burst into applause. The bird soared beyond the line of huge trees which grow along the lakeshore, and we lost sight of it.

The second owl was much the same. It flapped a lot, and I came home with an incredibly delicate fluff of down it shed as it beat its wings. Again lots of time for photos and Ken set the owl free. I got a picture of it against the bright blue autumn sky. It lit in a nearby tree and turned its back to us, perhaps to gaze at the open expanse of water before it.

We have a resident Great Horned Owl who raises a brood here every spring. I have seen her several times from quite close (20-30 feet) and she is huge. Her wing span must equal my arm span. Great Horned Owls mate in Jan, chicks hatch in March, and by May and June the mother has them out of the nest and in the trees around us, fattening them on any mouse or vole foolish enough to poke head above ground when an owl is hunting.

The sight of a Great Horned Owl soaring in absolute silence is awe-inspiring. SORCO is dedicated to making sure that's a sight today's children will still be able to see when they are adults.

Get Out of My Way!

2010-09-28T00:36:00.004-07:00

Ever had food poisoning? Then you know what I mean. It is very much like being possessed by aliens. I will not linger on the gruesome details, just say it's been an unpleasant four days and leave it at that.

A visit to the doctor this afternoon, and the antibiotic she prescribed, will hopefully have me feeling about 75% better by this time tomorrow.

In the midst of this, Ian arrived and (bless him) winterized the deck, cooked for his Dad, cleaned and shopped. Where would we be without our wonderful children? He also brought me an early Christmas/birthday gift, a new digital camera.

I have sorely missed being able to take decent pictures of my garden this summer after my camera died. The FLIP video camera I bought takes nice video but the only way to get a "still" picture is to freeze a frame and do a screen capture. Furry, blurry, weird colour shifts. Anyway the FLIP goes off to live with Ian, and I have a new digital camera.

As proof, a badly focused photo of my sedum "Autumn Joy" which is blooming so beautifully right now. (It's hard to take a good picture when you are fighting the urge to throw up.)

More (and nicer) pictures later, when the aliens have granted me control of my digestive tract again.

KIVA Loans for September

2010-09-06T11:45:00.004-07:00

The first week of each month brings the pleasurable task of choosing our KIVA entrepreneurs. And while this month we have donated to relief efforts in Pakistan, our KIVA commitment is on-going and always a joy. Each month we receive a progress report from each of our borrowers. We see that our modest loan has helped them secure a better future, for themselves and their families. It's a good feeling. We have much to be thankful for and it's so good to be able to give back in a small measure.

This month we have made two loans. The first is to a young married woman named Amina Okombe in Tumaini, Kenya. Amina has two children. One attends school and the other is still too young for school. Her husband is a businessman who works and contributes to the support of the family. The family rents a house with electricity but have no running water. Their greatest monthly expense is food. Amina's goal is to ensure the family has enough income to educate their two children.

To accomplish this goal Amina started a business seven months ago. She goes door-to-door selling second-hand clothing for adults. Now, with the money she has made selling clothing and her KIVA loan she wants to purchase a sack of green vegetables and fruit and set up a small vegetable stall.

Our second loan of the month is to the Dembagnouma Ii Group, in Wobougou, Mali. The group is composed of 10 married women with an average age of 29, and an average of 3 children. They live in traditional polygamous families.

In this Group: Assan Traora, Hawa Niamana, Yaye Diallo, Kadidia Diarra, Maramou Dembele, Djelika Dembele, Sitan Soumaïla Dembele, Baoumou Issa Dembele, Matou Issa Dembele, Mama Fomba.

This is the group's second loan. Their previous loan was repaid in full. They are borrowing money in order to better organize their rainy season activities. They grow, among other crops, rice, pearl millet, peanuts, and beans.

With this new loan, group leader Maramou Dembele has plans typical for this group of women. She plans on buying fertilizer and small farming implements. She grows peanuts and will pay someone to help her maintain her approximately four acre plot. The harvested crop is sold in nearby market towns. She hopes to make a profit of $145.00 by the end of the season.

Consider becoming a KIVA partner and extending a small loan to a hard-working business person who has little or no access to working capital through KIVA.

Moving Toward Hope

2010-09-01T15:32:00.002-07:00

As we ponder ways to reduce oil dependence and greenhouse gas emissions, creating local, sustainable agriculture, using permaculture methods, provides us with a solution.

The video is the length of an hour's TV show with commercials removed (i.e. 48 minutes) so put your feet up, grab a cup of Joe, and enjoy the show.

Cat's Play

2010-09-01T00:01:00.003-07:00

Our Great Ginger Hunter caught in a rare moment of relaxation.

A couple of hours ago Sal came in through the cat door warbling like a lark. He was talking with a mouthful of mouse. The great ginger hunter he is not. He has killed one mouse in his life and that was by accident and he nearly scared himself to death when he did it.

He didn't have that problem this time, because not only was this mouse still alive, it didn't even appear to have its fur ruffled. He set it on the floor and it took off like a bullet. He chased it all over the house. He has picked it up and carried it around, he has patted it, he has leapt in wild and crazy circles around it as it ran. It has hidden in inaccessible spots several times, and then ventured out to become a very unwilling participant in this game of cat and mouse. At one point Sal temporarily lost the mouse when it ran under him and took refuge under his belly. And once he sat down on it (poor thing! I told you Sal is not a hunter.)

And two hours later, while I have driven myself to distraction trying to catch it so I can take it outside, the little mouse is still as frisky and agile as ever. (I think it's hiding under my chair at the moment.) The bleeding useless cat is poking around in the corners, trying to figure out where his mouse has hidden this time.

Cats are supposed to keep the house mouse-free. Sal didn't read the contract, or he misunderstood the principle. The cat is not supposed to bring the mouse to the house.

A Cat Flap

2010-08-30T11:06:00.002-07:00

One of my few faithful readers remarked that I don't post very often any more, and it's true. After four years I have posted about everything I have to say about day-to-day life in a travel trailer, and I am about to change gears. Oh, I'm sure the odd day will hold a bit of trailer life excitement; yesterday we began the somewhat arduous task of installing a cat flap for the four-footer that rules our lives. This was no picnic and we only got half way done. I feel like someone took a cudgel to me this morning. In a few days we hope to proceed with the second half of the project and then I'll have something to report.

It's a small flap rated for a 1-12 pound cat. If I reverse the 2 and 1 I get the number our boy weighs, i.e. 21 lbs. He is a bit of a chunk. But we confirmed that, while the flap is a snug fit, he can scrunch himself through this itty-bitty flap pretty easily. I made him slide through it several times just to make sure. I would have been gutted if I'd done all this work and he wasn't able to stuff himself through the flap.

We now have an opening framed in which is only slightly larger than the cat flap will be when it's installed. He grumbled a bit last night when we refused to open the big door for him (it was really cool and breezy outside). He finally started going in and out of the opening for the flap, but not without telling us how he felt about it, which was not very impressed.

It will probably be easier for him once the actual cat flap is installed in the opening, since it has smooth sides, and right now he's climbing through a tunnel of pink foam and coroplast, which pulls his hair. (He says to tell my readers that we try his patience at times.)

And here I started saying I had nothing to say, and now I've said it and will get up and turn the potato pancakes I'm making for brunch.

Don't Pick on the Big Boy

2010-08-15T14:42:00.002-07:00

There was a big fight at our house this morning; no not us, well that's not quite true, it was one of us, and one of the neighbours.

That young upstart of a mouser, Mr. Blue, who lives next door, has the very bad habit of taunting Salvador. Just out of reach, he walks on Salvador's pathway, sharpens his nails on Salvador's favorite log in the garden, climbs Salvador's tree, and strolls leisurely across the clear roof of our deck, driving Salvador absolutely around the bend. In this photo Sal watches Blue walk across the deck roof.

Our evening walks have become little more than searches for Blue, and when Sal sees his furry nemesis the walk turns into something very like keeping a giant sailfish or marlin on the hook, after it's taken your bait.

Sal can swivel sideways, slip his harness, and be gone, in an eyeblink. To prevent that from happening you must keep the leash taut enough so that he cannot turn sideways. If you relax for an instant he's off.

So far, any time he's managed to slip the leash Blue has made it to safety before Sal caught him. One time Sal leapt up and smacked Blue on the bottom as he was sleeping on the covered BBQ grill standing near the fence next door. No claws, just one mighty thwack! He was mighty pleased with himself.

This morning I headed for the community garden to pick tomatoes, and Tony said he'd follow so we could water. I was happily picking tomatoes when our neighbour on that side called to me and said, "There's a big cat fight going on out there in front of my place!"

I hurried around but by the time I got there nothing was happening at all, other than Tony chatting with the neighbours. But I learned that Sal had rushed out between Tony's feet as he opened the door. Blue was lying in the grass not six feet from our deck. Sal had been standing up on his back feet, watching Blue enjoy that nice cool patch of his grass. And he'd been grousing about it. Cats and people - very territorial.

Blue may have been asleep, at any rate Sal landed on top of him and began cuffing him and swearing in Catanese. Tony said you couldn't actually see Blue, buried under Salvador's bulk, but you could hear him shrieking like he was being killed.

Tony grabbed Sal, who did not resist, and carried him back in the house. Blue headed out for territories yet undiscovered. Sal huffed around the house for a while, then had a snack and laid down for a nap. He was too tightly wound to be examined for injuries, but didn't have anything obvious. Art has since said they've gone over Blue carefully and he doesn't have a scratch on him, so 21-pound Sal must have been cuffing five pound Blue with a soft-paw as he read him the riot act.

I have an idea that Blue may be more respectful from now on. Just a theory. Last year Elvis kept hissing at Sal, when Sal was trying to be friends, until Sal finally walked up to Elvis, hauled off and slapped him. Then Elvis rolled over on his back, showed Sal his belly and said, "Hey, I've got an idea! Let's be buddies. You can be boss!"

Love Before Lunch

2010-08-11T23:15:00.003-07:00

Not many x-rated stories begin with the words, "I was out walking the cat," but this one does.

We were walking up the gravel path between our place and the next door neighbours when Sal stopped to sniff what I took to be a bit of rusted metal hanging from the wall.

Whaaaat? I went for a closer look, and discovered that what I had taken for a spiral of rusty steel of unknown origins was actually a pair of "Limax Maximus", or Giant Leopard Slugs, entwined around each other in a spiral.

They were whoppers, about four or five inches in length, and they were quite busily engaged in exchanging genetic information, so that my garden could be blessed with hundreds of gigantic, voracious slugs next season.

They were hanging by a four foot strand of substantial slime but were suspended over a long stretch of sharp, dry gravel. The chances of survival would be slim once they fell on that. So, being the kind-hearted slugatarian that I am, I picked them up by the strand and moved them around to shaded spot in the garden, into a thick stand of spearmint. I'm sure being dropped on their heads ruined the mood, but they should have had the good sense not to make whoopee in such an exposed location.

Should you be in the mood for a bit of slug porn you may watch the following clip narrated by sir David Attenbourough which shows a pair of leopard slugs doing precisely what my slugs were doing this morning, in far less photogenic surroundings.

>

It's obvious the British Leopard slug is high class and hangs out in posh and mossy English gardens while the BC Leopard slug hangs out in trailer courts and quite possibly smokes cigars and drinks Red Bull. Maybe this pair watched the Attenborough, "Leopard Slugs in Love" movie before falling on each other in the throes of passion. Whatever inspired their romance I can't for the life of me figure out how they came to be hanging on the side of my trailer on an August day in the middle of a desert.

We Love the Mosaic That Forms...

2010-08-07T12:08:00.003-07:00

This beautiful country, which opens its arms and hearts to good people from all over the world; and they all seem to land at our doorstep.

Over the summer campers from all over the world become our neighbours. Right now we have a large family of Kurdish Turks camping across from us. They've been dancing for the last hour, and if anyone has worked out a more exuberant expression of the joy and love of life you'd have to look to find it.

I grabbed my video camera and began filming. Other campers had been drawn by the music and laughter. As you can see some had already joined the dance; others brought cameras but dropped them as we were all invited to join the dance, yours truly included.

"It's our exercise, and shows our joy in our family," the man in the white shirt and rolled up trousers told me as I puffed after five minutes of jumping and kicking to the beat of some highly intoxicating music.

No wonder they are slim! They've been at this for the last hour or more, and I can tell you it's a workout. If Health Canada could get all of us dancing like this we'd be 100% better off!

KIVA Loan for August

2010-08-06T14:46:00.002-07:00

These ladies are the recipients of our KIVA loan for August. I've developed a bit of a soft spot for these groups of women from Mali, maybe because their lives are so different from mine, but also because almost all are comprised of extended family groups. You note than all of these women bear two surnames, Dembele or Coulibaly, and since they live in traditional families, where plural marriages are the norm, they are probably all not only related but wives of a group of two to four brothers.

In this Group:

Soumba Dembele, Tabi Dembele , Mamou Moussa Dembele, Kanouya Dembele , Bougougnon Coulibaly, Dagnere Dembele , Batoma Dioko Dembele, Gnire Coulibaly , Sitan Baba Coulibaly, Mamou Amadou Coulibaly.

The members of Wolale V Group are married women living in Cinzara, a village in the prefecture of San in the region of Segou Mali. On average, they are 39 years old and have at least six children.

They grow groundnuts, fonio and sesame. In order to ensure that their agricultural investments are profitable, the members of Wolale I Group decided two years ago to participate in the loan program of Soro Yiriwaso, the agency which extends Microfinance in Mali. After having properly repaid their previous loans, they have now applied for their first farming loan.

Tabi Dembele wants to use her loan to buy a large enough quantity of fonio and groundnut seeds to seed her fields, and to buy small equipment and farming supplies at the larger market in San.

After the rainy season, Tabi's harvest will be warehoused long enough for its value to increase, before it is sold at the large market in Dah and at the nearby markets, retail (or wholesale) to cash customers who mostly come from big towns. After their produce is sold, the group members expect to make a profit of about $36.00 each, which they will use to repay the loan and contribute to ongoing family expenses.

In a group loan, each member of the group receives an individual loan but is part of a group of individuals bound by a group guarantee. Under this arrangement, each member of the group supports one another and is responsible for paying back the loans of their fellow group members if someone is delinquent or defaults.

The Road Less Traveled

2010-08-01T16:19:00.004-07:00

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost - Mountain Interval - 1916

I belong to a small house forum, where there's been a lively discussion going on, sparked by one man's insistence that we have no choice but to continue with our present levels of resource consumption. He can see no other options.

Despite numerous members (including yours truly) telling him that we had already altered our patterns of consumption quite successfully he refuses to believe it can be done.

Quote from Robert Fritz

Maybe those of us who strive to live low on the resource totem pole are the "Uber-Liberal greenie eco-freaks" he called us in derision; but in my eyes we (personally) are not yet green or freaky enough.

To my distress a life of simplicity (such as we live it) still requires a heck of a lot of stuff and the exchange of a great deal of money. There's rent, the power bill, the propane, the cell phone, the interwebs, groceries, clothes, expensive medications which the provincial plan doesn't cover, all things we cannot live safely or comfortably without unless we move ourselves right along to the shopping cart/refrigerator-box-under-a- bridge-domicile. How do you simplify what has become inherently and almost inescapably complex?

While I keep talking about reducing the amount of stuff we own, so far my ambition has outweighed action. We have cleared out two drawers this week, which is better than nothing, but not a lot better. This is not a problem of reluctance to let go, but one of the strength and energy to sort through the stuff and move it along.

When I get despondent about our slow and bumpy road toward simplicity I pop over and spend time with Peace Pilgrim, who reassures me that; "... progress is [never] over. ... it's as though the central figure of the jigsaw puzzle of your life is complete and clear and unchanging, and around the edges other pieces keep fitting in. There is always a growing edge, but the progress is harmonious."

The central figure of this jigsaw puzzle is an intention to live more lightly, and there is a continuing but ever so glacial progress toward an ever more light state. (Trust my jigsaw puzzle to be one which has 5000 pieces.) But it just feels weird. We have followed the road less traveled, to be sure, but we have ended up in never-never land - with too much stuff to fit in with the 100 Things crowd, and far too little to look anything like "normal" to the village householder with his 2500 sq ft house, three cars, power boat and snowmobiles for each member of the family.

I guess I just have to admit that we are not normal in any sense of the word and probably never have been. But we are what we are, and there's no point pretending otherwise. As Frost wrote, the road we chose to follow is the grassy one, and there's not a lot of company.

The Early Bird Gets the Bird

2010-07-19T16:26:00.006-07:00

This it the part of summer when we sleep like campers. The wonderful thing about a travel trailer is that it's a travel trailer! With a large window to either side of the bedroom, a five-foot wide window at the head of the bed and an operable skylight vent in the ceiling it's almost like sleeping outside.

It always cools off here in the evening, even when it's been a blistering 40 C (104 F) during the day. The breeze is fantastic. Nighttime temperatures drop into the 50s and it's heaven for sleeping.

But I have exceptionally acute hearing, and with all the windows open I hear everything, from the toenails of a dog walking past on the road, to the mice that gnawed on my vegies (last year) to what woke me at 5:00 am today.

It was daylight, though the sun was still an hour or more from coming over the horizon. Above, in the tree adjacent to our bedroom, the birds were flapping and screaming in terror. My first thought was that the neighbour's cat was up there bugging them, but it soon became apparent that our resident red-tailed hawks had brought their newly fledged youngsters over for breakfast.

I've seen the hawks flush game, and seen them terrorize small birds in trees, so it takes no stretch of the imagination to believe they may have herded the great number of smaller birds into this one tree. It was a teaching moment.

The youngsters sat in the mock cherry - two of them by the sounds of it, and whistled that wild cry of theirs. The blackbirds, warblers, orioles, finches and sparrows shrieked and clattered and screamed. The tree was full of the fluttering of wings. The parents circled over head, their whistles coming from higher, moving in a constant circle.

All the hawks had to do was dive bomb the tree and pick off the smaller birds that panicked and flew. The hawks are teaching their young to kill, so they must have been catching the small birds with a soft hand, not the usual (merciful) killing blow of a talon. You heard the small snared birds panicked squealing above all the others.

The young hawks' whistles grew excited, the small birds screamed as they were torn apart, the young hawks called and gobbled, as young birds do everywhere, as parent stuffs food down the yawning beaks.

As my neighbour says, "Nature is nature." Hawks have to eat too, and there are hundreds of small birds, but I doubt that was much consolation to the small birds as they became the young hawks' breakfast, nor was it to me, hearing their fear and pain.

After a ten minute frenzy the hawks rose and flew away. The trees, and the morning itself, grew quiet. I went back to sleep and dreamed of flying. The sun rose over the eastern ridge and touched the ripples on the lake. At the edge of the garden the birds chattered as they picked up the seed we'd thrown out for them at sunset. They are better Buddhists than I, they have already forgotten 5:00 am.

And the Answer is....

2010-07-16T17:15:00.004-07:00

Yesterday's post ended with a question; "Does the Municipal District have a clue?" The question is how do they actually have a viable plan to reduce greenhouse gases to 33% of 2007 levels by 2020, and 80% of 2007 levels by 2050?

The answer is.... drrrrumrrrroll.... apparently not.

The very pleasant young lady at the door asked if we were willing to cut our energy usage 30% by 2020? I told her we'd already cut it, to about 12-15% of the average US energy usage.

She asked how we did it. I told her we'd moved into a 250 sq foot house. Her jaw dropped. Her next question was, 'Had we built that house?' I told her no, building code doesn't allow a dwelling that small, so to reduce our footprint we'd moved into an RV and retrofitted it with extra insulation and energy efficient appliances.

Her next question was, 'Building codes won't let you build a 250 sq ft house?' I told her no, not in BC (or most other jurisdictions for that matter). I went on to tell her about the Tiny Home movement, based on two premises, environmental consciousness and voluntary simplicity. And that it was a movement primarily fueled by young professionals, not by the un-housed, under-housed or the poverty-stricken.

I went on and walked around the room, looking at the posters. One excellent initiative suggested was to require that all new homes be built to seamlessly incorporate solar water heaters, should the home owners decide to add one. The additional cost at the time of construction would be about $800. That seemed like a positive step which was sensible and concrete, not wishful thinking that people will drive less in a rural community spread over a huge area, or that power usage will magically drop if we set a goal.

Two men came in. By this time I was at the far end of the room, sitting at table, filling in a form. I heard the young lady ask them, "Why can't you build a small house in BC?"

"There's no minimum size for homes in BC," one said. "Build as small as you like."

"250 sq ft?" she asked?

"Well, there are minimum sizes for the ROOMS!" he said incredulously, "a bedroom has to be 10 x 12 ... and there has to be another room of at least..." He had suddenly lost volume and I couldn't hear what he said. But I distinctly heard him say "Huts for the homeless." And then he laughed.

I completed my form, and came home. Once I'd calmed down I wrote a note to the pleasant young organizer, and sent her some links:

The Small House Society.

The so-called Pocket Neighbourhoods of small "jewel-box" homes which have quickly become not only ecological but community showpieces.

And to the Tumbleweed Tiny House Company and Jay Shafer's lovely little homes.

Is there no way to show town and city governments that increasing density by grouping several small energy-efficient homes on one or two lots is a viable option for improving the carbon footprint and creating richer environments where people can thrive? Or is it only the dollar that speaks any more?

Take a look at a video of Jay Shafer's 100 sq ft home.

The Little Brochure

2010-07-15T14:25:00.003-07:00

Came in the mail. Summerland's Climate Action Project, Progress Report July 2010.

So I am readying myself to go the Open House, to see what they have in mind. Their goals are modest, a 33% reduction of greenhouse gases by 2020, and an 80% reduction by 2050. I'll be pushing up daisies by then but with any luck I'll still be around in 10 years to see if they make their goal of 30%. Of course we need much more drastic cuts, but a start is a start.

Summerland has a problem, and I'm part of it. Walk down the street and the majority of the people you pass are 60, 70, 80. Walkers, wheelchairs and scooters are everywhere. It looks like a scooter parking lot in front of the most popular hang-out, the pharmacy! This town desperately needs to attract the young and the educated, and not just as to fill service industry jobs for the old and dying.

Second problem. Population density here is average 3.1 per hectare. A hectare has 2.39 acres in it for the Yanks among us. Even the BC municipal average is 7.1. Now some of this is because Summerland has the cone of an extinct volcano poking right up in the middle of town, taking up a lot of acreage, and part of it is because the municipality also includes a lot of agricultural property, orchards and vineyards, landscapers and tree nurseries etc. But less than half?

The point of this is that one end of "town" is miles from the other end. There's not enough population to make a bus system viable, and biking on most of the narrow, twisting roads leading into the town centre is suicidal, since they are constantly traversed by heavily-loaded logging trucks, which are the clear winner in any bike-truck confrontation.

Third problem: Water water everywhere - there's a 100 mile long lake out there - but n'er a drop to drink. We're on a boil water notice and will be until October.

The town's potable water comes from snow melt in the mountain valleys above us. Warmer winters, less snow, and the Okanagan already has 30% less rain and snow fall than fell in the 1950s. And the population booms, and everyone wants a great big green lawn and a great big water feature and a great big sprinkler going night and day all summer long.

What to do? Does the Municipal district have a clue? That's what I am going to find out this afternoon.

I Know an Old Lady Who Swallowed a ...

2010-07-08T13:42:00.006-07:00

I inhaled as as I straightened up from pulling a weed last evening, and (too late) saw the small triangular moth as it disappeared into my mouth, and felt it as it fluttered down my windpipe. The song, "I know an old lady who swallowed a fly..." came to mind. Thankfully it was not a fly, and it was not swallowed, but I choked and spit and coughed up moth bits for an hour. My advise to you, dear reader, is - keep your mouth shut in the garden!

I have been preoccupied with that garden, which has fed the neighbourhood with chard and greens all spring. I need to go clear out the last feed of chard and allow the tomatoes a turn. But I have both flower and vegetable gardens. The flowers are going crazy, and the vegetables are flowering. The tomatoes are heavily laden with pea-sized tomatoes and hundreds of blossoms, the squash are putting on buds, the beans are lifting buds, the potatoes are blooming, and everywhere you look is abundance and sheer abandon.

But I haven't talked about the house in ages, and I should. Work on the wee abode creeps along at a snail's pace. I'd love to have everything I envision done in a massive week-long swoop, but at this rate five years, maybe ten, is a more realistic goal. sigh

The "Tiny House" crowd is generally dismissive of the RV as a dwelling, but with a bit of retrofitting they make comfortable and efficient housing for people who are happy in a small space. Our RV is cozy, if a bit chaotic. The structural changes are complete and what remains to do is largely cosmetic; painting, new flooring in the kitchen/entry, some resurfacing of new construction.

Unlike most "Tiny Homer's" we are retired, so our place functions as a full-time home. It's heated 24/7 in the winter and cooled appropriately in the summer. We prepare and eat our meals, shower, sleep and do our laundry here.

We have already talked at length about installing the washer/drier combo unit, and insulating, but more recently we built a platform for the drop-leaf desk we had shoved awkwardly into the living room corner. It's elevated by nine inches to clear the wheel well on the outside wall, thus creating some storage underneath, and allowing us to push the desk back against the back wall. Much better.

As you can see, the platform still needs finishing, the shelf to the left still needs a bit of finishing, the desk is in line for a repainting, and I could have tidied. I'm still thinking about window coverings. Venetian blinds are nice for controlling light, but these are old (metal) and somewhat the worse for wear. They conduct cold like crazy, so we'd like something a little more insulative. Any suggestions that don't involve yours truly sewing, which is definitely not my thing?

We replaced the broken down sofa with the eye-popping zebra patterned one, the only one I could find which would fit into the truncated space. But then I found the perfect wall unit to drop into place in the five inch space at the end, giving us room to display a couple of treasured mementos, and a bit of protection for my curio shelf filled with the collected miniatures from four generations of family members.

These are the things that say home to me, paintings we've hung, little gifts crafted by loving hands of mother, grandmother, husband, child. Touches that are priceless in any setting, small or large, humble or palatial.

Ian tore out the banquette bench seats and table, and built a shelving unit against the kitchen wall. Very handy. On the top shelf a few of the cups and saucers passed down from Tony's Grandmother, the teapot given to me by my late friend Audrey, tea caddy and flower bowls. On another shelf, the family altar. Below, storage for canned goods, pots and pans, crock pot. Oh the joy of not having to climb a ladder to get to these daily items!

The small table and chairs suit us much more than the difficult banquette ever did. We still need to change the flooring, but all in good time. Little by little it's taking on less of a "factory-installed" look and more of our personality.

Our KIVA Loan for July

2010-07-05T22:56:00.005-07:00

Ahon Sa Hirap, Inc. is the oldest existing micro-credit organization in the Philippines. In the Native language of the Philippines Ahon Sa Hirap means “to rise above poverty.” With more than a third of the nation’s 90 million Filipinos living below the poverty line, ASHI was established with the vision of helping to alleviate poverty in the Philippines.

Dedicating to empowering women, ASHI lends only to women and specifically those in the lowest 50% of household income, so to the “poorest of the poor.” In addition to general business loans, ASHI also offers educational loans, house repair loans, savings funds, and social development programs for its members. ASHI is committed to translating its social mission into practice.

Evelyn Sandajan is 46 years old and lives in Hamtic, Antique, Philippines. She is a very humble woman who enjoys her life to the fullest despite her poverty.

When she became a mother, she was motivated to find a way to help support the family and educate the children so they could escape the poverty the family lives in. Her motivation has intensified and their eldest child is now in college, and the second has entered high school.

Through a field partnership with KIVA we joined with several other investors to lend Evelyn $400 which she will use to expand her business. She will repay the loan over time and we will reinvest the money as she repays it.

With determination to see her children graduate from college and improve their standard of living, Evelyn joined ASHI in 2003. The first loan she received was used to finance and grow a vegetable business. This kind of livelihood activity is the most common source of income of the many families in the village where Evelyn and her family live. Every day they go to different municipalities to market their products.

Evelyn works hard with her husband to bring home money to support the needs of their children. Given the opportunity to have larger amount of capital, Evelyn and her husband hope to make their business more stable and profitable. Through this, they will be able to educate their children until they are capable of living lives free from poverty.

Try to keep up...

2010-07-03T23:48:00.003-07:00

I know, I know. It's madness. I'm as mute as a fish for weeks on end and then write three posts in two days. What can I say? The tide comes in, the tide goes out.

We caught another chapter in the never-ending story that is the BP Blowout on the news tonight, Gulf States July 4th tourist visits down by 80% as the beaches slowly disappear under a layer of sludge. Dying fish, corals, plankton, shellfish, birds, marine mammals, estuaries, marshes, reptiles... the Gulf is suffocating in a toxic stew of oil and methane gas.

British Petroleum shares have lost half their value on the stock market, their assets have plummeted as they struggle to contain and clean up their mess, and look forward to years of damage control and horrendous image problems.

You know what? Concern for the environment is not just felt by economically naive tree-huggers. Environmentally responsible policies are good for both the bottom line and the planet. BP might have spent a couple of million dollars more putting the wellhead in to begin with, but they wouldn't be in this mess now if they'd have done it.

As it is the impact of this disaster will probably be felt for the next 100 years. Birds species will make their way south this fall for the last time, never to return. Turtles which have paddled our oceans for millions of years will vanish forever. The next four generations will live with the consequences of BP's economic decision to make a penny more profit a barrel by not installing an emergency excluder valve which would shut the flow off should there be an explosion. The penny difference per barrel was important enough to them that they were willing to risk the health, safety and livelihood of every man, woman and child living along the Gulf coast and beyond.

This in itself reveals exactly why business cannot be left "unfettered", because corporations will always choose profit over the public good, and are indeed compelled to do so, for their only definition of "immorality" is to fail to return a profit to the stockholder. Corporations must be constrained by law from harming the environment and the public, because they are by nature self-serving. Like a two-year-old who will run into a busy street and cause a 10 car pileup, corporations need a parental government, to protect themselves, and others, from their own risky behaviour.

Companies need only look to BP's example to see that the corporation who places itself in a risky position to obtain profit may lose everything if a single thing goes wrong. BP may never recover from this. They may well go down in well-deserved flames before this is done with. Unfortunately it will take many an investor and family business with it, and a once productive and beautiful area of the USA may become a shadow of its former self.

Only after the last tree has been cut down
Only after the last river has been poisoned
Only after the last fish has been caught
Only then will you find you cannot eat money
-- Cree Saying

Eat Local!

2010-07-03T12:12:00.004-07:00

The flier for the annual Summerland Fall Fair arrived a few days ago and I was excited to see that this year their focus is on supporting the 100 mile diet.

Each year they have a spectacular dinner which is always sold out long before the date. This year the menu is made up of entirely locally grown foods. We live in a garden of plenty, yet we don't see much of the local bounty, as much of it is shipped to other markets, while we eat food brought in from Chile, New Zealand, Mexico and California.

It's time to change. Anthropologists can look at a 1000 year old skeleton and determine where that person lived. The minerals from the food they ate were incorporated into their very bones and teeth. When Natives said, "We are this land," they knew what they were talking about. But it was true of most people.

Local eating is becoming more than a "crank's" way of eating. More and more people are putting some thought into how they eat, and choosing to be Locavores.

I fell off the wagon and bought nectarines from California last week. I knew I shouldn't have but I was so hungry for some fresh fruit beyond the apple. What a disappointment. They were nectarines only in name. In the same way growing up in a citrus orchard spoiled me for eating oranges picked green and shipped 2,000 miles, eating nectarines picked fresh and ripe for the past three summers has spoiled me for eating sour nectarines with the texture of cheese. I'll buy no more until they are offered fresh from the tree here in my own backyard.

Pete's Greens: at the heart of the locavore movement from lovetomorrowtoday on Vimeo.

This is an interesting video. Local production of vegetables providing jobs and rescuing depressed economy. Who would have known that the family farm was the answer all along?

Do you hear what I hear?

2010-07-03T02:36:00.006-07:00

The flowers in the garden are so thick and vigorous they are crawling over each other trying to escape the bed. Surrounded as we are by the astonishing wealth of nature, it's easy to become almost blind to it, but you really have to be deaf not to hear all that's going on around us.

Just now the neighbourhood pack of coyotes broke into one of their bloodcurdling choruses. I can't say it's a song I particularly like, unless I hear it from very very far away, and this was pretty close.

The last few nights I've been hearing the raspy "reeeeeekkkks" of a family of what sounds like three juvenile great horned owl chicks, begging for food. She brings the kids up and parks them in the trees while she hunts for the fat moths, and maybe the occasional bat, swarming under the streetlights on the street.

Three or four nights ago one of the owlets was parked on our next door neighbour's roof. Every so often the reeeek would turn into a gargling ruggleekruugreeeekkk as Mama Owl stuffed something into the demanding youngster's screaming and insatiable maw.

I heard the cries of a baby bird today and looked out the window to catch a flash of bright orange on the path in the garden. Closer inspection revealed that it was a male Bullock's Oriole feeding a very small chick which had managed to fall from the nest.

Knowing that a chick on the ground has absolutely no chance of surviving our resident mouser and bad cat (read opportunistic birder) I went out and caught the little oriole. It was the size of a small hen's egg, and while it could flap and glide, it could not yet fly. I put it as high as possible in the big willow, then thought, That was stupid! The cat will have it in a minute. I should have put it on a limb too small for the cat to climb on.

But it was too late. The chick was climbing up the bark and was well out of reach. I left it to its fate and came back to my housework. An hour later I went to find our Park Groundsman and who should come flying out of the tree and land at my feet but Baby Oriole. This time I was smarter. I carried him around and put him on a small branch which was inaccessible to the demon cat. It was sheltered by overhanging leaves high above. He held on and started calling his parents. ("He" could be a "her" for all I know, but I have to call it something and it just looked male to me.)

After two or three minutes of full-throttle screaming the Daddy Oriole appeared and shoved food down the gaping beak. Thirty seconds later Mother Oriole repeated the process. They must just have the one chick left because they fed it all afternoon except for a brief 20 minute break about 5:00 pm when I figure they must have collapsed in a heap and gobbled some dinner for themselves. Baby seems to have taken a nap, as he said not a word during that time.

All this time he was on the little branch but after dinner break the parents began a tag team effort to get him higher in the tree. One would bring food but lure the chick six or eight inches higher before feeding it. The other would stay at the chick's side flapping and encouraging the it to hop up. Once it was up the second parent would feed it.

In this way they had moved the chick into the higher branches before dark, to a place much less accessible to the cat. Now they just have to keep him warm for the night. I don't know if they have lost the nest, or if the chick left it too soon, and they were trying to lure it back. I hope they have a nest and can get it back in and all get a good night's rest. If anyone deserves it they certainly do.

The owls are reeeeeeking ever so often. They are closer than they've been all night. The crickets seem to have been sensible and gone to sleep. It's closing in on 3:00 am, and soon the dawn chorus will begin with a single trill. Time for an old insomniac to try once more for a few hours of sleep.

3 July Edit: Little Oriole survived a chilly night and is yelling his head off for food, which the parents are providing in 30 second shifts. I am ever so pleased. Ruth next door says it's okay to let a stranded baby bird die because, "It's nature." But I can't. I'm such a sucker. I'm the only person I know who rescues ants from the water in the sink. I take spiders and bugs outside, and even shoo flies out. Everything loves its own life. Even an ant.

4 July edit: 8:43 pm. Baby Oriole is still happily screaming for food, and still being stuffed by two obliging parents. He should be the size of a young turkey by now. Nature and nurture collide. I do hope he's not too fat to fly by the time he grows flight feathers. :)

Where were we again?

2010-06-23T16:40:00.003-07:00

Yours truly, who cannot muster any enthusiasm for writing blog posts when she has no photographs to go with them, has finally figured out how to capture still photos from her video camera, and posts can resume.

We had a cold, windy, sodden spring which held on until the last minute of its official term of office, like a politician who has long worn out his mandate but cannot be coaxed, bribed or blackmailed into stepping down.

But, right on schedule, on the morning of the 21st, Summer arrived in all her shiny glory. Plants which have sulked and hung back through May and most of June have suddenly burst forth in wild and joyous exuberance.

Our friend Tony up the way, who has what must be the most spectacularly beautiful garden in the park, brought us a beautiful bouquet last Sunday. A melody of every bloom from his flower garden in the nearby orchard where he works, it is still gracing the counter. Though one or two of the roses are a petal shy of their original glory, the fragrance is heavenly.

All Sunday evening we kept wondering where the fragrance of ripe peaches was coming from, until we tracked it to the white roses in the bouquet. Who would have thought that a rose would carry with it the scent of a fresh peach?

In the vegetable garden we are covered up in rainbow chard, Asians greens, every kind of lettuce, and beet greens. Every other day I practically have to take a machete to the mint to keep it from enveloping every other plant in the garden. The neighbours are beginning to wince when they see me coming down the street laden with yet another bag of chard, bok choi, lettuce, beet greens or mint.

Next step is a market stall on the highway, maybe set up like a border crossing. "No M'am, we don't want to see your driver's license, we just want you to take this bag of bok choi and keep on driving."

For our potluck on Sunday I made bbq'd ribs and an enormous salad - a 16" wide bowlful - of baby chard, beet greens, half a dozen types of baby lettuce, mint leaves, Asian greens, bok choi flowerets, thyme flowers, and lavender flowers. I dressed this with the lightest drizzle of olive oil and balsamic vinegar and it was a great hit. It was the first time I'd ever seen people go back for seconds on salad.

But never mind, though we turn green from salad and/or greens at every meal, it's a bounty we long for all winter. Chard, bok choi and beet greens five minutes out of the garden are an impossible dream in the depths of winter. The "greens" at the grocers in January bear only a passing resemblance to what's bursting from my garden today. Gather ye chard-leaves while ye may.

KIVA Loan for June 2010

2010-06-05T11:23:00.002-07:00

Our KIVA loan this month goes to this smiling group of women from Bougoula Ville, Mali. In this Group: Sali Bamba, Fatoumata Kone, Habi Ouattara, Aminata Traore, Macoura Traore, Chata Sangare, Mariam Coulibaly, Oumou Bagayoko, Rokiatou Djire and Sarata Coulibaly.

All the group's members are married, some in the traditional polygamous family structures common to this part of Africa. They have a median age of 34 and between them have 40 children.

This is their 11th loan with the microfinance institution Soro Yiriwaso, and all their previous loans have been paid in full. This ability to access capital to invest in their businesses is vitally important to business people everywhere, but even more so to women like these, who have no access to capital through the regular banking system which demands collateral and is only interested in large dollar loans. This is the reason microfinance is so important, especially to women in the Third World, who have little hope of improving their lives otherwise.

The women in the Benkadi Group each have their own business selling diverse articles like potatoes, soap, second-hand clothes, etc. Sali Bamba (a group member) sells potatoes and will use her loan to purchase 20 cases of potatoes at the large market of Médine in Sikasso. She will resell these potatoes at the local village market and from her home on a cash basis. Sali envisions making an average profit of the equivalent of $31.00 US monthly. A part of the profit will be used to support her family's needs and the other part will be invested back in her business.

Seriously Amissing

2010-06-01T21:57:00.004-07:00

But then I get bored reading my own posts, so I expect everyone else must be absolutely stunned into unconsciousness by them!

But to list the last week or two's most exciting occurrences:

1) I added a new bird to my list - the yellow breasted chat. The book says this is a shy bird who is more often heard than seen. Apparently the one coming to gobble the seed I toss out morning and evening hasn't read the book. Or perhaps he is just the extrovert of the family.

One of the blackbird pairs is bringing their four or five noisy, begging youngsters to the seed pile. The kids follow the parents around with gaping beaks, shaking their wings and screaming like a banshee reunion. After poking seed down the kid's throats a time or two the parents start dealing out peckings and beatings instead of seed, and the kids get the message and begin to pick up their own food.

We have a pair of quail who come from across the road to eat seed. I get very tickled watching him trying to herd her back across the road if she hasn't yet eaten her fill. She runs a circle and ends up right back pecking seed while he dances and curses in frustration. (Women are not always easy to herd!) One morning I hadn't gotten out with the goodies yet and Mr. Quail marched up the walk and crowed his head off until I came out and served breakfast. Birds are very entertaining.

2) Our weather has been uncharacteristically cool and damp. Evening before last there was a double rainbow across the entire span of the sky. It went from the clay banks right across the lake to spill onto Naramata. I'm not sure I'd ever seen such a brilliant rainbow.

3) The garden is progressing at a satisfying pace. We've eaten a couple of salads out of the 4 x 4 behind us. That's the 4 x 4 where all the cherry-type tomatoes were planted last year and it is now chock full of two-inch high volunteer tomato plants. Although I have planted about two dozen tomato plants I cannot bear to pull these plucky little volunteers, so I'm not sure what will become of the chard, beets, leeks and onions I planted.

I'm going to pretend it's an experiment. If the volunteers do well I will seed my tomatoes directly in the garden this fall and let Mother Nature do the work next spring. To heck with greenhouses and trouble lights and packing flats in and out of the sun. It will be "Back to Nature" for me. I grew so many tomatoes I've been begging neighbours to take the extras and finally got desperate enough this afternoon to put the last 30 on Freecyle.

They are going like hotcakes, with people mailing to ask if they can pick up four or six. Yes, please. I'm tired of babysitting them and have no place to put them! I'm beginning to consider sneaking out in the dead of night to plant a tomato into each flower bed in the park.

And that is the extent of my exciting life. Practically comatose really. And loving every minute of it.