Spending Spree

Of course the day after I trumpet the "Austere" lifestyle and the value of being low on the consumer totem pole we went to town! Not Summerland, as we'd been there only three days ago, but to Penticton, which is 15 km away, and thus not a trip we make frequently.

We hadn't been to Penticton for several weeks, but since it's the only place we can buy the Red Chief's food we do have to go sometimes. There was a "list". Everything decides to break at once. One thing breaks and a wave of breaking spread like the chicken pox in a third grade classroom.

Two of our four big Corning ware coffee mugs, one split down the side, one spit a chip. The old ceramic pitcher I kept on the counter with my kitchen utensils in kicked out a side, and threatened me with sharp edges every time I reached for a spatula. Three of our four drinking glasses broke within days of each other, not dropped, they just split down the sides.

So, it was time to do a little replacing, either that or expect guests to pass a communal cup of coffee. True to my word (of yesterday) I hit the Sally Ann and scored four decent coffee cups, not as big as I'd like, but perfectly serviceable and matching.

At the builder's supply we picked up 160 pounds ( 4 - 40 lb sacks) of wood pellets. These are just sawdust dampened and extruded into pellets. No binders, fillers or chemicals. We have no wood stove, we use them as cat litter! They work well, there's no odour, and a 40 lb bag lasts for about three weeks, at a cost of $4.88, about a third of the cost of the recycled newspaper litter we used before. But these pellets are available only from Sept to March, so we stocked up today, and will try to make these last. We have a couple of bags left so have four or more months worth laid in.

Then we hit the dreaded and evil Wally World for an orgy of spending. Four new glasses, a container for the kitchen utensils, a few canned goods, some garden seeds, cat's food and 40 (yes 40) light-weight facecloths. Why you ask? How brave are you? If brave and not squeamish read Crunchy Chicken's Challenge.

If squeamish take a look at this and forget that I bought 40 facecloths.

Riot For Austerity

I've been hitting the gardening blogs pretty hard the past few days. The weather is teasing us and making me crazier than usual. Yesterday it was 10 degrees down here at lakeside, sunny and not even too windy. The tease ended today with a high of four and a numbing north wind that tried to swat you off your feet. Just ahead, a high of minus seven and a low of -13. I'm waiting to put in my seeds till after that blows out of town.

The Red Chief stayed out for about five minutes this morning before pulling me back inside. He just asked to go out again, but when he leaned out the open door and felt the cold wind, he turned around and said, "Thanks, but it much nicer in here."

Anyway back to my surfing gardening blogs. I've added three new links to my blogroll and it is here that I have been spending most of my time. No surprise that they are focused not only on food sustainability but on reducing the impact we make on the planet. One has a sub-page called Riot For Austerity.

Austerity is a fearsome word to many people. (Booga-booga!) But unless we want to send the climate into a spiral which is unrecoverable it's a word we ought to become a little more familiar with. Austerity doesn't hurt so bad.

"Riot For Austerity" is based on a quote from George Monbiot's book; Heat: How to Stop the Planet from Burning. Monbiot suggests that in order to stop catastrophic global warming, worldwide emissions must be reduced by 60%.  That number jumps to a 90% reduction in the U.S.  (and Canada), since we are such energy hogs.

Monbiot writes that not only do we lack the political will for such a drastic change, but also “no one ever rioted for austerity.”  In other words, the 90% number is easy to brush off as ‘un-doable, and therefore not worth discussing further.’ 

Well, some see it differently.  The group that started the Riot for Austerity blog believes that if a group voluntarily drops their emissions and consumption by 90% over a year, they can show that it is possible. 

They have a calculator, where you can figure your annual emissions and consumption, and compare that level to the US average. Canadian averages are even higher, since we live in a colder climate and import more food and manufactured goods than the US. On this front we did well, we are not rabid consumers.

We have driven less than 1000 km (620 miles) in the past year, and thus used 3% of the average amount of fuel for transport. Our electricity usage was 19% of average. Heating and cooking fuel use was 10% of average. Water about 15% of average. The fact that the toilet uses only a half-cup of water per flush, the washer uses only nine gallons per load, and we shower Japanese-style helps a lot.

Aiiii, where we fall off the curve is in garbage production, though I'm not sure exactly how this was supposed to be calculated. I included everything although I think you were meant to subtract the stuff you compost and recycle. With everything included I figure we produce 44% of the average.

Consumer goods - 26% - This may be high, as I wasn't certain exactly what was included. We buy as few disposable items as possible, and we make do as much as we can. Still we haven't denied ourselves anything we really wanted or needed. We don't have room for much and we don't tend to want a lot that isn't necessary. Much of our spending has been to improve energy efficiency in the trailer.

Food - this category was a bit confusing for me - we do need to eat more locally grown food. We use about the target amount for dry bulk foods, But too much in the "wet goods and conventional" - these are imported fruits and veggies, which we do rely on in the winter. Our big luxury is canned milk for our coffee. We use it straight up, a half can a day (between the two of us). This is probably decadent but the calcium is good for us and we both have a problem tolerating regular milk. The "creamers" are full of chemicals and manufactured fats, while canned milk is just milk.

So, while it is just an estimate, the calculator shows me where I need to pay more attention. I am going to grow as many veggies as possible this summer, and put away more, so we are less reliant on imported foods next winter. And, although I really don't like shopping in the thrift store here, mainly because it is open short hours and is very crowded, I am going to make an effort to begin buying second hand whenever possible.

If it's a riot it's is definitely a quiet one. And we are well on our way to using that 90% less than the average US/Canadian consumer.

Gotta Loves the Interwebs!

Okay, so I am sitting here moaning that I have no room to start seeds, and trolling gardening blogs in more southerly climes, where people are showing off produce picked today and on the way to the soup pot. (sniff)

Then I ran across this site Wintersown.org. I laid aside the laptop and dug my bootbox full of seeds out of the cupboard. I have about 40 different kinds of seeds, mostly veggies and herbs, but some flowers too, like the California poppie and sweet William seeds given to me by SM a number of years ago when we lived in the OC.

The premise at Wintersown is that you can sow seeds in plastic containers with clear lids and put them outside to emerge in their own time. No grow lights, fancy flats or pampering. The seeds come up with more vigor than ones grown under lights in the warm, dry air in the house. The containers can be as simple as two-litre pop bottles cut in half with then the top slid back down over the bottom planted section. She encourages you to use your initiative and make use of what you have. I'm thinking the plastic cartons I buy baby salad greens in would be excellent!

I've nothing to lose but the price of a bag of growing medium, and if I get a dozen plants to set out once the raised beds are built it will have been worth the price of the medium. I have lots of seed that I am not certain is viable, some are several years old, as I often planted half a package, or less. I might not even take the chance of planting these seeds directly into the garden, as I question the viability.

This will obviously not work with the beans, squash or melon seeds *yet*, as they don't like cold temps, but I have loads of broccoli, spinach, Asian veggies, greens, onions, chives, peas, etc. which would be quite happy to go into the ground now. I'm thinking, plant them and nestle them down in the mulch where they will have some protection from the sub-freezing temps we are still having at night.

Oh the excitement!

Gardening Meme

I don't usually do memes, but I am dying to get into the garden and this is the best I can do. It's like making love. Those who do it least talk about it most.

From: Double Danger

Describe your gardening style.

Deeply thoughtful, meticulously planned - oh, those are both lies and the gods of the garden are gonna strike me dead the next time I step out the door. I dig as large a hole as our root-infested garden will permit, throw in some compost and heel in some unfortunate potted plant. Seeds I just throw on the ground, look at the package and then throw as much dirt over them as the package says they need. I *promise* to be better this year.

What was the last plant you bought?

I bought a bunch at one time, but picking one, a Lenten Rose Hellebore.

What were the last seeds you bought?

Lemon Thyme

When was the last time you had to pick the dirt from under your nails?

What, you've seen my floors? How about two days ago then, when I pulled back the winter mulch to see if anything was alive under there and barely escaped with my life! I swear I did NOT plant deadnettle in that part of the garden! It has crawled 14 feet over gravel mulch to a new spot.

Any big plans for the garden this year?

Okay, last year we landed here on April first, and had a lot of work to do that didn't involve garden. I contented myself with putting in about 50 perennials in the narrow band that was destined to lie alongside the deck. This is called "The shade garden". It's backed by the neighbour's wall, has two huge trees, one at either end, and the neighbours on both sides have 80' tall weeping willows. You need a torch to negotiate at noon!

THIS year (mid-April) our big boys are putting in a covered deck, raised beds in the back for veggies, large containers for fig trees and blueberries, and a cold frame in a spot that is sunny in winter but shaded in summer.

I am adding several ferns to the shade garden, including Japanese painted ferns. I couldn't find any ferns last year, this year I am ordering out. The shade garden has a purple and lime green theme. The coleus' were spectacular so I will pop in a few of those as soon as frost goes.

What was has been your biggest mistake in gardening EVER?

Oh my God. You Internets are vicious! It has to have been planting pea vines on a fifth floor balcony in Calgary, where one falls to the ground when the wind drops off. It's sort of like sea-legs, you compensate for the gale. Anyway the wind twisted the pea vines right out of the soil. Part of me wants to mention the year the telephone man stomped my entire garden into the dirt. My failure was in not having a weapon at hand when I caught his size 12 clodhoppers crushing my *Staked* tomatoes and rambling melon vines.

Biggest success?

600 tomatoes off half a dozen plants in a narrow strip between two three-story Victorian houses. Growing all the vegetables for our family of four, and we were vegetarians at the time.

If you could be doing anything right now in regards to gardening… what would it be?

Planting seeds. I hate buying bedding out plants but have no choice this year as I have no place to start seeds. NEXT Year!!

Villanelle For Our Time

It seems that I am the undisputed Queen of editing, amending and etc and so on my posts. Trolling the web for Villanelles I found others besides the one below written by Mr. Cohen. I include for your poetic gratification, education, glorification, mortification, what-ever.

The villanelle is a poetic form which has only two rhyme sounds. The first and third lines of the first stanza are rhyming refrains that alternate as the third line in each successive stanza and form a couplet at the close. A villanelle is nineteen lines long, consisting of five tercets and one concluding quatrain. (Got that? I do want you learn something from this lesson!)

I love the Villanelle and have written one or two myself (best left unquoted) I have also written of it before.

The Villanelle I know (or knew) best was a Saanen goat as big as a pony, and gentle as a mitten. Many years gone now, but she gave a gallon of milk a day and ate all my raspberry bushes in return.

The best known Villanelle of poetic (and not goatly) fame is Dylan Thomas', Do not go gentle into that good night, which you will find below. But this one by Leonard Cohen is outstanding. He reads it here. Well worth a listen.

Villanelle For Our Time

From bitter searching of the heart,
Quickened with passion and with pain
We rise to play a greater part.
This is the faith from which we start:
Men shall know commonwealth again
From bitter searching of the heart.
We loved the easy and the smart,
But now, with keener hand and brain,
We rise to play a greater part.
The lesser loyalties depart,
And neither race nor creed remain
From bitter searching of the heart.
Not steering by the venal chart
That tricked the mass for private gain,
We rise to play a greater part.
Reshaping narrow law and art
Whose symbols are the millions slain,
From bitter searching of the heart
We rise to play a greater part.


Thomas wrote Do Not Go Gentle.. for his dying father. He sang rather than spoke, listen here. Tragically dear Dylan drank and whored himself into an early grave, dying at 39. People have written poems about him. (I'll bet no one writes me poems when I'm shuffling off this mortal coil. Maybe a round of "So long, it's been good to know ya", which would be okay too.)

Dylan Thomas's
Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learned, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And after all the ponitification and breast-beating we end on a lighter note. John Ford, a noted poet who oft wrote in the style of the Bard wrote the following ditty in Villanelle form.

The villanelle is what?

Enter Mr Jno. Ford as King Edward the Fourth.

I am the King now, and I want a sandwich.
This monarch business makes a fellow hungry.
I wonder where my brother Richard is.

What happened to the kippers left from breakfast?
Or maybe there's a bit of cold roast pheasant.
I am the King now, and I want a sandwich.

A civil war is such an awful bother.
We fought at Tewksbury and still ran out of mustard.
I wonder where my brother Richard is.

Speak not to me of pasta Marinara.
I know we laid in lots of boar last Tuesday.
I am the King now, and I want a sandwich.

The pantry seems entirely full of Woodvilles
And Clarence has drunk two-thirds of the cellar.
I wonder where my brother Richard is.

If I ran England like I run that kitchen
You'd half expect somebody to usurp it.
I am the King now, and I want a sandwich.
I wonder where my brother Richard is.

The Way of Life

by Lao Tzu

My own phrasing, based on two or three dozen translations from the Chinese. I continue to add verses to the BOTTOM of this post, so if you have read verse one, verses 2, 3, 4 etc. follow below it. Otherwise the verses would be in backwards order, which for some reason disturbs me profoundly. DG

1

Existence is beyond our ability to explain,
No language does justice to it.
To begin with no one even tried,
But since we are,
We have to explain ourselves.
Whether you view it with the objectivity of science,
Or the raw passion of one newly in love,
The universe is precisely the same.
Only the viewpoints differ.
If we have to give it a name
Call it The Great Mystery,
And from that Mystery arises all things.

2

When you decide something is beautiful,
You must think something else ugly.
Judging one person respectable,
You assume others unworthy.
Birth and death, though part of the same cycle,
Seem poised as opposites.
Difficult and easy are measures of effort,
Long and short measure distance,
High and low describe relationship;
But since it is the varying tones which create music,
And what is will soon be what was,
The rational person
Considers the circumstances
And remains flexible.
Takes the day as it comes,
As something to use, not to fret away.
To hold but not to grasp,
To accept with simplicity.
If you remain humble
You can't be humiliated.

3.

If you heap praise and glory on a few
The work of the common man seems pointless.
Determine a man's worth by his display of wealth,
And you encourage envy and theft.
A wise society encourages compassion,
Eliminates hunger,
Teaches quiet self-reliance,
Creating such stability that cunning meddlers cannot corrupt it.
Without being forced or persuaded, people do the right thing.

4.

Mystery with no beginning,
Was the beginning of everything.
The parent of the universe,

It wears out mountain ranges,
Outlasts agony,
Watches the seasons wax and wane,
Lays the wind.
Like an unfailing spring it flows.
But how it began,
Is unfathomable.

5.

Life doesn't take sides,
It gives birth to both good and evil
A wise person doesn't take sides
Recognizing good and evil in everyone

The universe is like a bellows,
Appearing empty but ever full.
The more it yields the more it holds.
The more you try to explain it,
The less you understand.
A wise person learns from life,
And is never bewildered.

6.

Existence is a spring on a rockface,
Its source hidden, yet inexhaustible:
Welling up from the root of the world,
Draw upon it; it will not run dry.

7.

Existence endures,
because it has no agenda.

The wise person is content,
because they meet life as it is,
And put themselves neither first nor last.

8.

Water is an excellent example,
It benefits all, while always seeking the lowest level.

A house may be placed in the best location,
The mind may be kept quiet,
Associations chosen for their virtue,
Government for its ability to maintain peace and stability,
Actions must be taken at the appropriate time.

It takes two to maintain a quarrel.
It's hard to find fault with a peaceable man.

9.

Overfill a cup and it is easily spilled,
Over-temper a sword and it shatters at the first blow.
Fill your house with treasure and it is easily carried away by thieves,
Boast of your accomplishments and others will find you insufferable,
Do your work well and let others acclaim you.

10.

Embracing simplicity, you are more focused,
Breathing gently, you are revitalized,
Clearing your mind, you become wise,
Nurturing your children, you learn fairness,
Opening your heart to others, you are welcomed,
Accepting others as they are, you embrace Life itself.

Bearing and nurturing,
Creating but not owning,
Giving without obligation,
Results in harmony.

The Plan, As it Stands

This is the time of year when my fantasies run to the wild and exotic. Maybe it's just the boredom of long, cold winter nights and short, grey days. But as I walk "The Moo" around I note that tulip spears are emerging (into still freezing temperatures), chickweed flowers are starting to open into starbursts of white, and the trees are beginning to fatten with buds. The finch and junco males are beginning to display and sing, courting irritated females whose only thought is peanut-butter-coated- birdseed. They aren't thinking sex yet, but the boys are eager and they trill and do the boogie-woogie "Ain't I cute?" dance any time they can corner a female.

I walk around and look at everyone else's places. Most permanent residents here have decks, but I've felt that a deck would cut off my view of the sky and the trees overhead, diminish light levels inside, and eliminate my already small garden patch. I've reconsidered. A six-foot wide deck wouldn't impede on my planting area. If we put on a transparent coroplast roof it wouldn't reduce the light level too drastically, though there's nothing that can be done about losing the sky view. A deck would give us much needed storage area, and a place for the cat to run and exercise, other than bouncing off the walls inside. We could have an outside table and chairs, I could hang plants out of the cat's reach.... I have been convinced.

So plans have been laid for the building of a deck in mid-April. Ian and Zak have said they will come and build it. Ian is extremely good at any mechanical and spent a summer working for a deck-building company back when he was 18 or 19, so he has an excellent working grasp of carpentry, and Zak, well Zak is much like my Dad. He can do anything he puts his mind to. I figure three days and they can have it done.

And I sit and think about the garden itself - and thumb my now coverless - and raggy-edged seed and plant catalogues. I'm going to try some new gardening techniques as well as adding the ferns I wanted so badly last year and couldn't find. This year I have found a couple of sources and will order a variety of ferns. Then I'm going to try something I've longed to do for years, but never had the climate for. FIG TREES.

When we lived in Houston we had two large old fig trees (and 11 huge pecan trees) in our back garden. The fig trees produced two crops a year in such quantities that every Tuesday in late spring and fall we took several brown paper grocery bags full of ripe figs to the food bank. Last summer I found ripe fresh figs in the market ONCE and the tray of four small figs cost $5.00.

Figs grow quite well in containers, and while they need protection in the winter, that is just a matter of wrapping the dormant tree and pot and putting it in a sheltered place. We're even talking about buying a couple of dwarf blueberry bushes which can be grown in a container.

We have one of those quick assembly double-walled half-height "sheds", which is inconvenient for storage. We have decided we can drill holes in the backs of each of the panels and put in that expanding foam insulation. This will turn it into an insulated space, and with the addition of a 15 watt bulb on days when it's -15 or below, it would be a perfect home for overwintering container plants - like figs. In the summer it can be disassembled and put under the trailer.

Well, these are the dreams of a slightly creaky Buddhist in late February in the still-frozen north. In the swath of brown leaves that covers my garden now the juncos continue pecking at the peanut butter and birdseed mix we've provided. Occasionally there's a bit of courtship. The cat next door watches the birds from his window perch on the back of the sofa, cleverly concealing himself in the drapery. not very well LOL We move toward spring.

Friends Can Be Very Different

You know, your friends need not be carbon copies of you. Sometimes it does a body good to stretch a little and accept others as we find them.

Snow AGAIN!

Well, it is Canada, and February, but I've had enough already!

Then, while surfing YouTube I fell on this. I love the song but never knew its origins. Apparently it is from an animated British Christmas film called, "The Snowman". The animation is reminiscent of Tin-Tin. They fly over the Sussex Downs, the Royal Pavilion and the amusement park on the Brighton Pier. Now I am all cheered up, and will look out the window at the falling snow with a cheerier face. Hey! The sun has come out! BONUS!



We're walking in the air
We're floating in the moonlit sky
The people far below are sleeping as we fly

I'm holding very tight
I'm riding in the midnight blue
I'm finding I can fly so high above with you

Far across the world
The villages go by like dreams
The rivers and the hills
The forests and the streams

Children gaze open mouthed
Taken by surprise
Nobody down below believes their eyes

We're surfing in the air
We're swimming in the frozen sky
We're drifting over icy
Mountain floating by

Suddenly swooping low on an ocean deep
Arousing of a mighty monster from its sleep

We're walking in the air
We're dancing in the midnight sky
And everyone who sees us greets us as we fly

At 10 Times her Age I Still Can't Carry a Tune!

Six-year-old Connie Talbot, singing one of John Lennon's idealistic songs. We'd be better off if we all dreamed John's dream.

Monkey Wins but Cat Triumphs

I have been in bed with the flu for over a week. I hadn't been that sick in a while and I don't like it! We had to go to town yesterday, as we were right out of groceries, and there were several points where I thought I was gonna pass out. At the end I sat in the truck while Tony loaded the groceries. I hadn't felt that way for so long I had forgotten what it was like. But I got up feeling fine this morning so I think I've finally kicked the flu. I was feeling well enough to make a decent breakfast, start stew for dinner and begin cleaning up the kitchen. I started a load of laundry. The day was progressing well.

That is until the philosophies of cat and hairless monkey collided. As is often the case hairless monkey won but cat got in a few good punches before going down in defeat. To look at him here you'd think he was a quiet, well-mannered and highly considerate animal. Don't let his benign expression fool you. Between those cute little ears lie the nubs of horns.

I'll admit these snowy, cold days are a trial to the Red Chief. His walks are unsatisfactory, as it is wet and too cold to stay out very long. And worse, because I've been ill, this last week Tony has been taking the poor thing for his walks. (I say "poor" because his self-pity is evident.) Don't misunderstand, the walks are just as good, but Red Chief obviously feels as if proper tribute has not been paid if his mama doesn't take him out personally. (Gratitude is apparently not part of the cat's emotional vocabulary.)

As is customary, he wanted to go out the instant a head was lifted from a pillow this morning. Even before. As soon as light begins to creep around the blinds he begins to campaign for walkies. He usually goes out in his "room" two or three times before walk time. In summer he can go in and out through the cat flap, but in winter we have to take him outside and go out and get him again. This works. He runs to the door of his room and waits while you unlatch it, he jumps right in, and when he's ready to comes back inside in he yells, "Come get me!"

This morning he'd been out in his room twice already, but didn't stay long either time cause it's cold and windy. He asked to go out yet again, so I opened the door, let him out and followed. However, instead of going to his room he took off down the path toward the back. I went after him and he climbed a tree. As I got there he jumped down, and as I went to pick him up he shot off like his tail was on fire toward the front and stopped near our truck.

He sat there until I got to him and then he took off again. But I managed to grab him. He's quite a chunk to carry, especially when he's squirming and kicking, trying to find flesh with extended claws. The path is slippery and I had my crocs on so I skidded all over but I managed to shift him into one arm, open the door with my free hand and toss him inside.

I grabbed the handle and started in, he whirled around, pounced me with all his weight and dashed outside again. (He was having a ball, me less so.) He hit me with such force that he knocked me down. Thankfully I was leaning forward and I fell in the door, rather than down the stairs backwards. On the way to the floor I banged my shoulder on the door frame, twisted my back, bunged up my right knee and gave my neck a real jolt. To make it worse I had to get up, saying fine and fiery words which should pass no lady's lips, go outside and haul him back in again. By the time I caught him I was ready to skin him and make a furry orange hat of him.

Tony took him for a walk a few minutes later but it's cold and he (cat) wanted to come back in after five minutes. He has been bouncing off the walls since. I was trying to do dishes and he's getting into the dishwater, crawling all over the counter and trying to push dishes off on the floor. I gather from all this that he is feeling *very* well, which makes me happy, but I wish there was something constructive he could do with all that energy. Massaging my screaming back would be acceptable. But he's not interested in that sort of activity. Hairless monkey is servant of cat, not the other way around.

I have retired to my bed with a heating pad, two pain pills and a muscle relaxant. He is lying on my feet with a very pleased look on his face. As usual monkey wins but cat triumphs.

Number 17 across: rich = 1 penny

I enjoy doing crossword puzzles, not only for the challenge of working the puzzle, but because they demonstrate the incredible flexibility and shadings of the English language. Knowing the word you are looking for often requires recognizing the clue and the word.

15 across: Lox location = "deli", but if you don't know what lox is you'd be sunk.

The book I'm working in now was written by someone in their 50s - 60s. How do I know? Clues like 54 across: "sofa" = davenport. How many years has it been since I heard anyone call a sofa a "davenport"? But the dead giveaway is 53 across: "TV Host Lee" = "Pinky".

Who but a child of the 40s or early 50s would remember the frantic Pinky Lee Show? The Pinky Lee show was the 3:00 pm staple in the 50's. Mother's would urge their children to go to sleep quickly after lunch so they could "...wake up in time to watch Pinky Lee!"

Do kids take naps these days? I remember, even at eight and ten years old, that a nap after lunch was part of the summer ritual. Eat lunch, wash hands, face, neck and feet, change into your pjs, and sleep for two hot and sweaty hours lulled by the drone of the fan and the cicadas outside in the elm trees.

Would a 30-year-old know that the answer to 1 across: "With it once" was "hep" or that 23 across: "Asta" = pooch? I doubt it. But this puzzle creator often references characters, including Asta the fox terrier, from the 1950s TV show The Thin Man as inspiration for clues.

I knew that 13 across: "Pianist Duchin" = Eddy and that the "Grape drink of the 50s" asked for in 26 down was "Nehi". Which makes me long for a cold bottle of "Kayo soda", which was carbonated chocolate milk. How many years has it been since they made that?

And as far as that goes, how many of the younger crowd remember that "Coca Cola" used to come in green tinted glass bottles that held a mere six-ounces? They cost a nickle, and came out of the flat chest-style cooler in the laundromat down the street. You put in your nickle and slid the bottle along a set of rails to the end, where you could pull it out. Bottle deposit was one penny, and no one threw away a Coke bottle. You took them back to the store for recycling, which in those days meant the Coke delivery man picked up the empties and took them back to the plant where they were washed and refilled.

My friend Tommy Sparks and I went around the neighborhood, knocking at every door to ask politely if they had an empty Coke bottle they'd give us. When we got two we'd rush down the street to the tiny store, where everything was behind the counter, and we'd buy a penny's worth of candy for each of us.

A penny would buy your choice, a box of white sugar cigarettes with fire-red tips, or five jawbreakers, five lemon drops, five Hershey's kisses, five licorice twists or a paper pack with two pieces of bubble gum and a baseball card. It was a blissful sort of agony choosing which candy to get and how to spend those pennies. We jigged from foot to foot, our noses smudging the glass front of the candy counter, while the old lady who ran the store (the mother of my uncle Ollie), sat and puffed on her cheroot and gazed out the fly-speckled windows.

Tommy and I each got a nickle's allowance each week. I would immediately rush to Couch's Store to spend mine, but he was shrewd and frugal and he'd save his nickles for weeks to buy something truly monumental. (He grew up to be a bank president and I grew up to write, but with a bowl of Hershey's kisses at hand. With the recent economic downturn I may be the better off!)

I remember one time while Tommy was saving for 10 weeks to buy a tiny metal truck and trailer he bullied me into saving long enough to purchase a 15 cent doll, a 3" long soot-black china baby with a flannel diaper, a twist of floss for hair, and arms and legs connected by an elastic inside the body. The diaper was pinned in place with a tiny gold-coloured safety pin, which I did not put in my mouth or stick in my nose. As I remember almost all my dolls came with their clothes pinned on. Today the mere idea of a 1/4 inch-long safety pin anywhere on a toy would prompt a massive recall and several class-action lawsuits.

A frequent weekly purchase for Tommy and I was a roll of caps for our cap guns. Because these metal toy guns had "repeater" stamped on the side we convinced ourselves that whenever a gun was fired anywhere in the county our guns would "repeat", and so they had to be kept loaded with caps at all times!! Of course they never "repeated" so we were forced to keep firing them, just to make sure they were still in working order, hence the need for a new roll of caps every week. To this day I love the acrid, nose-stinging smell of burnt gunpowder.

Now, do you see why I love crossword puzzles? Where else could you buy memories like that for $2.95?

With the Turning of the Year

With the turning of the year one always falls into reverie. Forty-four years ago today I went home from my job as a Customer Service Rep for Emery Airfreight at Chicago's O'Hare Field ready for an evening of celebration.

It had been a day like most others since I'd hired on with Emery at the end of November. The weather was cold and wet, and I was used to the dry heat of Phoenix. But youth and the excitement of being in my very own apartment blunted any worries about the weather.

It was raining, and the temperature was dropping rapidly. I worked the "afternoon" shift, in others to work at 6:30 am and home at 2:30 in the afternoon. It was a great shift, which left lots of time for shopping (though I had little money).

My roommate Mary worked evenings, 2:30 - 10:30, and by now I've forgotten what our plans were. But somehow I ended up being driven to a party given by a bunch of girls at work by a girl named Geri, who had already been at the booze in a big way and played chicken with 18 wheelers all the way down the freeway. The road was one sheet of ice. I have always driven like an old woman and I was absolutely terrified.

When we arrived at the party the music was loud, the booze was flowing freely and people were yelling what passed for conversation, dancing, making out, or trying to puke quietly in one of the two bathrooms. I'd been a rather reserved and sheltered teenager and didn't drink, make out or puke unless I had the flu. Someone handed me something brown in a glass - it smelled like my uncle who drank. I sipped it and tried not to gag. Who wants to look uncool at 19?

The party got louder and wilder as the night went on. Couples began disappearing into the six bedrooms, and I had to fend off several amorous young men who'd had a snootful and were obnoxious and distinctly sweaty.

Geri was even drunker than she'd been on the way to the party, and was talking about how she was going to "drive right up underneath" one of those big semi-trailers in her little car.

I could see that Judy, one of the girls I'd stayed with when I first arrived in Chicago, and her friend Jinny, were getting ready to leave. I knew Judy was not a drinker, so I threw myself on her mercy.

"Take me with you, even if you just drop me off at home," I pleaded. "I'm scared to death to ride home with Geri."

Judy hesitated. "We're going to another party," she said. "But it's at Puffer's house, so I don't expect he'll mind one more. But Jinny and I both have blind dates waiting, and you'll be dateless." (Puffer was our nickname for one of the older guys who worked on the dock. He was married and had kids, and was considerably more settled then the crowd around us.)

"I don't care," I assured her. "I don't need a date. I just want to get home alive!"

So that's how I got to Puffer's New Year's party, Dec 31 1964.

We walked in the door and Judy and Jinny saw their dates waiting. But Judy also saw that her friend Art, a pilot from work was there, and had no girl on his arm, so she said to me, "You take my date, I'm going to spend the evening with Art."

The two young men waiting couldn't have been more different. The one waiting fro Judy was tall and dark, with black hair and an olive complexion. Mmmmmmm, my favorite! The other one, Jinny's date, was short, plump, blond and wore thick glasses and a rumpled sweater.

Jinny took one look at the two guys and said, "I'm too tall for the short guy," and shoved me toward him. I was dismayed. "But I met him already at work, I whined to her, and he's rude!" but she had already grabbed Mr. Delicious and was off to the dance floor. I was left standing in front of Mr. Second Choice, who stuck out his hand and said, "I'm Tony from Canada."

He says he knew the minute we touched that we'd be together forever. It took me longer to realize that, and even then I can't say I was wildly in love, the way my teenage crushes had taken me. But over time I learned that this gentle, quiet man was the most honest, moral, kind and just plain good man I'd ever met. And in time I fell so deeply in love that I've never fallen out.

Forty-four years ago tonight I met the love of my life, and my only sorrow is that now we have less time together in the future than we've had in the past.

The Cat Who Was a Creamsicle

I love Welsh poet Dylan Thomas' A Child's Christmas in Wales. I love his work generally, but this is a particular favorite. And today, his description of the Christmas snow in Wales when he was a child fits us like a glove.

"Our snow was not only shaken from white wash buckets down the sky, it came shawling out of the ground and swam and drifted out of the arms and hands and bodies of the trees; snow grew overnight on the roofs of the houses like a pure and grandfather moss, minutely -ivied the walls and settled on the postman, opening the gate, like a dumb, numb thunder-storm of white, torn Christmas cards."

About 1:00 this morning a few flakes began to drift around, like stars looking for a constellation. By 8:00 am there was a full six inches lightly layered on the hood of the truck, like white icing on a licorice cake. By 10:00 am another two inches had been added. It is still snowing. We are experiencing a monsoon of snow.

Sal began at 5:00 am to pat my face and beg to go outside. He usually has two walks a day but he hasn't been out in a week or more, as he is a large orange cream puff. He doesn't mind the cold, and he's even learned to tolerate rain, but he cannot stand snow. But he wanted out so badly this morning! He would not be dissuaded by looking out the window, or even a peep through an open door. He held up a paw and promised that, if I'd only harness him up, he would go out in the cold white snow this time. Promise, Mama!

So I bundled up and put his harness and leash on him. He was so excited he could barely stand still. I tried to get to the door and stepped on his tail, as he was swirling around like a red tornado.

I opened the door and he looked at the inches of snow on the steps and hesitated. I swept the steps and urged him forward. He put on the brakes. I went outside and hauled on the harness. He came down to stand on the steps, turned and headed back inside. But he's been aggravating me for days and I was tired of it. It was time he got his feet a little wet, and learned that he doesn't really want to go out.

I hauled him out, and down the two steps, fighting like a hooked fish. Off the step into shoulder deep snow, since this eight inches is on top of two previous snowfalls. He reacted as if he'd jumped on a hot stove. In a whirling flurry of orange and white (does a creamsicle come to mind?) he turned around, dashed back through the open door and into the trailer.

I took the broom and swept the snow off the truck, fed the birds, had a chat with neighbours who were digging their pathways out, walked a bit, took a few pictures. It's -10 but that's almost warm compared to yesterday's -26. And it continues to snow. I'm not sure how we are going to get out of here if we need to before this melts. It won't be by cat sled!

Inner Peace and Frozen Pipes

If inner peace is found by facing life squarely then I should be very peaceful at this point. Life doesn't get much "squarer" than frozen pipes and toilet valves.

We have had a cold spell which would do Alberta proud. It was -24 C this morning. We are wearing so many layers it is hard to bend our knees, and we are not the only ones who have needed extra "clothing" the past ten days.

A few days ago we found that our water pipe had frozen during the night. This necessitated a trip to town for a third heat tape, and a very cold hour of wrapping the "vulnerable" spot with heat tape, wrapping it with insulation and taping and tying it all together so the wind couldn't make off with our work.

This morning we found that our black water tank valve was frozen shut, hence no dumping. I probably need not remind you that one does need the little "necessity room", or to be more precise, the toilet. When the tank be full and cannot be emptied this poses a problem.

Thankfully we have a second "trouble" light, which we dragged out of storage and rigged up directly under the frozen valve. Two hours later and some struggling with the valve and Hoo-ray! it thawed enough to open and the dumping of the tank could proceed. A hot water chaser down the tank ensured that the thawing was complete and the valve could be completely closed again. Add some tank antifreeze and we're good for three days.

Weather is one of those things which must be faced, wherever you live. I have lived in less challenging climates, and I didn't fully appreciate them at the time. The weather service is predicting -8 C for tomorrow's high. After a week of highs of -16 to -20 the -8 would seem like springtime in the Azores. I'm just hoping it happens. I would really appreciate a slightly rounder day. I have achieved all the inner peace this cold spell has to offer.

Catmus Issa Coming!

As one can see from the accompanying photograph, (which has the added feature of an extra flash, giving it a bit of a surreal quality) Salvador, Feline Overlord of this particular household, is beginning to look at the calendar and wonder, "How many days 'til Catmus?", that one day of the year when the hairless monkey tribe celebrates the supreme position of our Feline Overlords.

He can only look out the window at the snow and cold. It was a brisk -23 C this afternoon with the wind chill, a temperature which made him twitch his ears in anger and frustration when he was allowed his open-door weather-check. Today he did not even want to stand on the step and survey his kingdom. Today he sat on the kitchen table and wrinkled his nose.

His tree, decorated with antique toys and ornaments made by childish hands many years past, does little more than irritate him on such days. He wants one thing for Catmus, no two things, 1) one of the birds on the feeder and 2) Summer, not necessarily in that order.

Summer will come by and by but the birds will remain out of his reach. He will have to ask Sandy Claws again next year for the bird.

Good thing he isn't interested in looking out the window above the sink, as it is covered in a thick film of ice. It is unprotected (no storm-film) and was covered all night with Reflectix, which kept the cold on the outside (even the water was temporarily frozen this morning).

Brrrr.... like the FO I am wishing for some Summer.

Stacking Zen

One of my favorite books of all time is Margaret Craven's I Heard the Owl Call My Name.

Early in the story the young Vicar arrives at his remote posting in a North Coast Indian village to find that the vicarage has no running water, no indoor plumbing, a wood stove for heat, and significant holes in the floors, walls and roof. He goes to open a door and the knob comes off in his hand. He surveys the situation and thinks to himself, Just keeping myself fed and clean is going to consume most of my day!

And while we have running water, both hot and cold, indoor plumbing and no holes in the walls, floor and roof that weren't put there deliberately, it still seems to take an inordinate amount of time to just stay clean and fed.

We are comfortable, but no one could ever pretend that living in an RV provides a life of ease. Cleaning is a series of shuffling objects from one surface to another so you can clean under them.

Taking a shower is a half hour process as the tub is used to dry wet coats and store items which will not fit anywhere else. Would you want to shower with a broom and a wet mop? No, I didn't think so. The window coverings are rolled up in the morning and... put in the bathtub. No place else for them. So, a five minute shower ends up taking 30 minutes, once you have unloaded the tub, stowed the stuff elsewhere temporarily, undressed, showered, dried, dressed and then reloaded the tub. Nonetheless it beats a sponge bath or a long walk in the cold to the bath-house.

I was just reading a blog entry about how to achieve a tranquil "minimalist" look in your house. Floors, counters and other surfaces are supposed to be free of objects, objects de arte included. Apparently my "stacking" system, with larger flatter items at the bottom of the stack (some would call it a "pile") and smaller, irregular items on top, in ascending order, doesn't qualify as either "minimalist" or "Zen". Okay, I admit it, winter decor in an RV is less like Zen and more like baboons with furniture.

RV life is easier in summer. For one thing summer clothes here consist of shorts, a T and a pair of Crocs. No socks, boots, no long underwear, gloves, toques, scarves or down coats, all of which get wet and have to hung in the tub to drip dry. No covering the windows at night. No putting up with an insane cat who is convinced that if he can get you to open the door just one more time it will be summer outside. He was so dead set on going out this morning (in a temperature of -15 C and six inches of snow on the ground) that I finally let him sit on the steps for a few minutes. He sat and sniffed the air, gave the yard a look-see from the steps and then came in and went for a nap. Thoroughly disgusted.

Looking back at entries for our previous two Fall/winter seasons in the Okanagan, I see that cold weather and snow held off longer this year than it did the previous two years. For that I am profoundly grateful.

I look out the window at the 30 or so small birds industriously digging at the peanut butter and millet combo I smeared into the tree trunks and onto seed bells. Ever so often a gust of wind sends them all reeling away like little pinwheels. No matter, a few seconds later they are back, chirruping and pecking like mad. They certainly look like they are having fun.

And in the moments when I feel somewhat grumbly about moving this to get at that I stop and think, I'm here by choice, both in my wee tin can of a home, and here, on this whirling ball of volcanoes and iceburgs, on the edge of an ever-expanding universe. And while the surfaces may be messy, inside it's pretty Zen.

The Anti-Grinch

The Season is upon us.

After several years of "Grinchdom", when I said, "The heck with Christmas!" I suddenly find myself looking forward to the holidays again. There's Christmas music on the stereo, the tree is up and decorated, lights are strung outside, shopping is almost done and I am not the least bit stressed about the whole thing.

Maybe it's just because I am feeling so much better than I have in ages, and have energy to celebrate with, but whatever it is I am enjoying myself. The little doll in the picture was made by my late friend Judi, using a chicken "wishbone" as an armature. She is a treasure I place on our tiny tree each year, along with several dozen handmade or antique toys.

Christmas has come to mean expensive gifts and frantic partying for many people. For many the expectation that they must provide (or experience) the "perfect" Christmas sucks the joy right out of the season. I have heard any number of people say they are stumped because they don't know what to do for Christmas that doesn't involve money and lots of it! What do you do when you have a small budget but still want to enjoy your Christmas? Here are some suggestions.

10 Ideas for a Simpler, More Meaningful Christmas

1. Avoid going into debt. Refuse to be pressured by society's expectations to overspend. Gifts don't need to be expensive. It's more important that they reflect the recipient's interests.

My in-laws were very well off, but one Christmas my father-in-law's present to my mother-in-law was five or six tiny porcelain animal figurines. Her friends were disdainful, since these cost only a few dollars. They told her a mink stole or new diamond would have been more appropriate to their economic and social status. But Mom was delighted with the little figurines and displayed them prominently the rest of her life. She loved animals but she said she loved more that George took the time to seek out something which he knew she would love.

2. Plan ahead. Instead of going crazy and trying to cram in activities and parties every night get the family together and talk about how you actually want to celebrate. Taking time to make cookies together, or tour the neighborhood light displays, gives time for meaningful conversation and family bonding.

3. Start celebrating early and include friends. A weekly "event", an evening of board games with another family, eating Christmas-themed snacks, attending a Christmas concert at a local church together, an evening with a rented Christmas movie and popcorn. Two or more families might get together to make tree ornaments to represent this year's memories. Each family makes an ornament not only for their own tree, but for their friend's as well. Then you might get together to help decorate each other's trees.

4. Talk about, and think about, the meaning of gifting at this time of the year. In the Christian tradition it echoes the gifts given by the Magi to the Christ Child, each of which had a deep spiritual significance. In Many European countries the "gifting" has much less importance, and is done on St. Nicholas' Day, early in December, leaving Christmas as a time for religious reflection.

December 25th is the day when the the cold, dark days of winter begin to lengthen in the northern hemisphere. Man has marked the winter solstice for thousands of years with festivals, gatherings, ritual and other celebrations. Not all these involve the exchange of gifts, but all encourage closer familial and community ties.

5. Draw names rather than everyone buying gifts for everyone in the family or group. Select a price range so that gifts are affordable for everyone.

6. Give children one spectacular gift they really want, rather than a dozen so-so ones. If need be parents, grandparents and/or aunts and uncles can go together to buy one expensive gift none of them might be able to buy alone. This is especially a good idea for teens, whose "wish list" may include expensive technology.

7. Give 25% of what you spend on gifts and activities for each other to local or global organizations which help those who have overwhelming need. An extended family might pool enough money at Christmas for an annual sponsorship of a needy child with Christian Children's Fund or The Plan. Shop at stores like 10,000 Villages where artists and craftspeople are paid a fair price for their work.

8. Give of yourself, not just “store-bought stuff” - Include the person with no family to share your holiday activities, babysit for a harried mother, invite a shut-in out for lunch, offer transportation to a disabled person or frail senior, gather food for the local food bank, or volunteer to help wrap gifts for the local toy drive.

8. Have a Christmas potluck and ask each person to come prepared with a "performance" piece. This might be a poem to recite, singing a song, a magic trick, playing an instrument, telling or reading a short story.

9. Wait to put gifts under the tree until Christmas Eve. Take turns opening gifts one at a time, so each can be appreciated and enjoyed by everyone, and the giver can be thanked.

10. After Christmas is over, recognize that many feel let-down and sad. Have a potluck, or a dessert night, and ask attendants to relate their favorite memory from this year and a past Christmas.

What's Eating Your Money?

One of the park managers and I got to talking about energy usage and the small steps which each of us might take to reduce our energy consumption. I told her I'd been thinking about putting together a "newsletter" about how to save energy, money and the environment when you live in an RV. I was planning to take the newsletters around and leave them with each of the park's 20-25 permanent residents. She thought it was a great idea, and offered to give one to each tenant on our next rent day. So I've been working on my first "Energy Newsletter".

Taking into account appliances, heating/cooling and travel, the average British Columbian is responsible for 11.5 tonnes of Greenhouse Gas (GHG) emissions each year. That's a lot. The BC Government is encouraging everyone in the province to reduce energy usage and GHG. But before you can reduce you have to have some idea of how much you are responsible for. You can calculate your estimated GHG production here.

I used the BC GHG calculator and our calculated average household GHG emissions is 1.139 Tonnes of GHG Per Year. That's just 10% of the average! So from an energy miser here are some of the tips from my newsletter. You don't have to live in an RV to use these!

Did you know that a single 100 watt incandescent bulb costs $96.00 a year to light? Turning off the light(s) when you leave a room puts money in your pocket! Replacing regular light bulbs with Compact Fluorescent Light bulbs can save substantial amounts of money. CFLs use 70% less energy than regular light bulbs, last about 10 times as long and produce light similar to regular bulbs. If you can, replace some lights with LED “light bulbs” (LEDs grouped together into a fixture) which typically draw from one to two watts. They are still a bit expensive but they burn up to 50,000 hours without replacing, so pay for themselves many times over.

Cost for 12 hrs use day
----------------Month------ Year--- Savings Month-- Savings Year

Six 75 watt
Incandescent bulbs --$13.00----$156.00---- ~ -------- ~

Six Compact fluorescent bulbs
= 75 watts each ------$4.00---- $38.00 ---- $9.00 ----- $118.00

Six LED lights
= 75 watts each ------$0.50 ---- $6.00 --- $12.50 ------$150.00

Power Down!

TVs, DVD players, stereos, computers, modems, cable boxes and chargers draw power, even when they are not turned on! A cable modem uses seven watts, a router 4.5 watts, and computers from 10-100 watts, even when idle. You can save money by pthese power hungry doo-dads into a power bar. Before going to bed, or going out for the day, turn the power bar off. Turn your computer off at the end of the day, or put it in “sleep” mode. Rather than leave the coffee pot on all day, just to keep the coffee hot, use a carafe and save power!

The myth that "turning it off and on uses more energy than keeping it on all the time" exists for just about every device, and it's wrong in every single case. You will never, ever, ever, save power by keeping something on all the time vs. turning it off. Period. You always save electricity by turning your device off when you're not using it.

Of course, light isn't everything. It's cold comfort if your light bulbs are costing you next to nothing while you freeze! To increase comfort and/or decrease fuel bills, try these tactics;

If you don't have storm windows use transparent plastic “shrink” film to cover windows. It's available at the hardware store or builder's supply in boxes or by the roll. Is there a draft around your windows and doors? Caulk around all window and door frames. A surprising amount of cold air leaks through electrical switch plates which are located on exterior walls. You can buy foam cell insulating "kits" at the hardware store. You slip the insulation behind the switch plate to stop the draft.

Turn down your thermostat to 21° during the day and 18° at night. could cut your heating bills by up to 12%. If you feel cold, pop on an extra layer of clothing, like a T shirt, under a shirt or sweater. Keep a throw handy to pull over your knees while reading or watching TV.

Want more tips? Visit these websites:
Saving Electricity
52 Ways to Reduce Your Emissions

Getting Off the Bottle

In the USA and Canada billions of plastic bottles are "consumed" annually. That is they are used once and discarded. The manufacture of these bottles consumes about 50 Million barrels of oil annually, and only 1/4 of the bottles are recycled. That means most of them end up in the landfill, where they will slowly degrade and release toxic chemicals into our water supply and soil.

[Edit] Brett made a comment which included a link to this YouTube video called "Twenty-first Century Waterfall" which visually illustrates our "use and discard" plastic bottle philosophy.

Ironically, many of these discarded bottles originally held water. Our local stores carry bottled water from New York (appx 3000 miles/4600 km) away, Toronto (2800 miles/4400 km) away and to my astonishment, the island of Fiji 6000 m/9800 km away!

Like an increasing number of cities, towns and villages the world over, the water in our little town is considered "unfit to drink" for about six months of the year due to the suspension of particles in the water. This is a problem up and down the valley, so huge stacks of plastic bottled water grace the entrances of stores from April to October.

Early in the season, when the grocer's water dispenser was broken down and we were caught without water, I bought a case of litre bottles off the grocer's shelf. Later I consoled myself that it was the only bottled water left to buy that day, but it was cold comfort. I had assumed the "Fiji" on the label was a brand name until I read the label between swigs. The thought that I was drinking water shipped almost 10,000 km literally made me choke.

I think it was at that point that we decided to buy a water filtration unit. Filtering your own water is better for the environment for several reasons.

1) The water is used at its origin. No trucks, trains, ships or trips to the store involved.

2) No power consumed in processing and bottling the water,

3) No bottles required, so no oil or energy used in the production of the bottles themselves,

4) No shipping of empty bottles to the bottling plant, so no fuel used there,

5) Fewer bottles to end up in landfills,

6) And as a bonus for your back, no need to haul heavy cases of water home from the store.

Our filter unit screws onto the faucet, and cost about $13.00 initially, (with a filter included). Replacement filters cost about $5.00. Each filter is good for an estimated 300 litres of water. The filter can be turned on and off as needed, so we filter only the water we drink, make coffee and tea, and cook with. We found that a filter lasts from three weeks (when our tap water is at its muddiest) to three months, when the water is clear.

Here the 500 mL (16 ounce) bottle is the prevalent size. If you look at it from a bottle standpoint, a filter cycle which produces just 200 litres of clean water negates the need for 400 500 mL plastic bottles.

The price for a 24 case of 500 ml bottles of water was $7.99 at the local grocers today. But let us put aside the cost of the water and look only at the bottles. The environmental fee for a plastic water bottle is five cents, so the savings on environmental fees alone on 400 bottles is $20.00. A filter pays for itself in its first cycle, and after that puts money in your pocket every time you drink a glass of filtered versus bottled water. Refills costing $5.00 pay for themselves within 50 litres of water.

We also bought a stainless steel thermos water bottle for taking with us when we make trips to town etc. This replaces the plastic bottles we used before, but which we learned were a source of Bisphenol A, a chemical compound found in many reusable plastic water bottles.

Over the course of the summer we used three filters, which cut our bottle usage by about 1200 bottles. If everyone who drinks bottled water did the same, think how much oil, energy, hydrocarbons and waste we could save. If you use bottled water do the environment a favor and shop for a filter next time you go to town!

Back on the Energy Horse

I've read a number of "climate" doom and gloom books recently, and seen numerous TV shows along the same line. I have to admit the entire climate change-pollution-global warming-mass extinction thing has me more than a bit discouraged.

I finally laid aside one book (billed as "full of hope") which said that even if householders recycled everything possible it would only reduce the waste generated by our industrial lifestyles by one to two percent. Well, that inspires you to sort, wash and carry all those cans and bottles doesn't it?

Once again I think about what we have done, and have not done, to conserve energy and reduce our environmental footprint recently. You might say we fall off the energy horse frequently. I have to admit that we recycle sporadically at best. When we feel well we recycle everything religiously. When we're not feeling so well the cans, glass, paper and plastics go right into the garbage bin. I know it's rotten, and I feel bad about it, but there really are days when we do well to put one foot in front of the other. Our intentions are honorable, but we don't always have the ability to carry them out.

That's why I was so pleased, even relieved, last night when I saw a documentary on PBS called Kilowatt Ours. This film outlines not only how our demand for energy is creating environmental mayhem, but more importantly, what we can do to conserve energy and reduce the need for coal-fired and nuclear powered power stations.

The film points out that recycling one aluminum can, rather than making a new one from scratch, results in the conservation of one kilowatt hour of power. We use very few aluminum cans, but there's probably a similar gain when you recycle a tin can or plastic bottle. At least that makes me feel better about the impact of recycling even on an individual basis.

The film also shows how the city of Austin Texas built what they call an “energy conservation power plant.”  Rather than build a new coal-fired power plant, the community decided to institute aggressive energy conservation efforts instead.  Austin now saves more than 600 megawatts of electricity every day — an entire power plant's worth of electricity - strictly through conservation.   

Austin's success can be achieved on any scale, in any home or community that makes saving energy a priority.  An individual homeowner or apartment dweller can create a tiny conservation power plant by reducing their usage by several kilowatt hours per month.  

Our electricity bill in the Beach House has varied from a low of $16.00 (in June) to a high of $49.99 (last month). Thankfully our power comes from a hydroelectric plant, so we aren't burning a pound of coal per kilowatt hour, but our active conservation of power means less need for coal-generated power in other part of the province, and less pressure to build more dams and hydro plants.

I looked at the How to Build an Energy Conservation Power Plant and Save $1000 a Year chart at Kilowatt Ours. The chart shows how the average home owner or renter can reduce their power consumption enough to save $1000 a year. There's no way we can save $1000 over the course of a year. We don't spend $1000 a year on power.

But an idea we hadn't thought of, and will put to use, is putting electronics on power bars which we can turn off at night, to reduce the amount of power it takes to keep these devices charged or ready to be turned on at the flick of a remote. I'm not sure how much that will reduce our power consumption but at the moment I can point to six electronic gizmos which are sitting idle while little led lights happily signal that they are powered up and ready to go.

But the most important thing for me was that watching this film made me feel as if I can do something to conserve power and slow climate change. My little bit is important after all. I can't change the world, but I can change my little corner of it. Thanks, I needed that.

The Clock Says November

There's a pattering on the roof that is not rain.

The garden is several inches deep in leaves of various shades of orange, gold and brown. The flowers are buried in an avalanche of the same leaves that shaded them all summer, and still the leaves come down. We are having a blizzard of leaves.

While the red and yellow mums will thrive and return next spring, I am thinking of my rosemary plant, which is a tender perennial.

How do I save it from the coming cold? Is it possible to keep it alive for next year? I can't dig it up, pot it and put it in a sheltered room or greenhouse. The best I can do is surround it with a wire tomato cage, pull the branches inside, fill the cage with leaves and wrap it well against the wind. There is no shortage of leaves. We are rich with the gold of leaves. The air smells of willow leaves, but my hands smell of rosemary.

The hands of this particular "sundial" appear to still be pointing to August, but the leaves tell time differently. Maybe it's because the dark months of winter seem so much longer than summer. But here, in the Okanagan, "winter" is only a fleeting shadow of what it is in other parts of Canada. I've seen hard frosts in July and August in Calgary. Here we haven't yet had a frost.

I took the Red Chief for a long walk at midnight last night. The air was misty and cool and the street lamps had halos of soft orange light. We walked and walked until I heard the distant yipping of coyotes, then we hurried home to that rush of delicious warmth which surrounds you as you come in on a chilly night.

This morning I couldn't stay inside when it was so warm and fragrant outside. Sal and I had a long walk, and once he was ready to come inside I grabbed my camera and went out again. I spent an hour walking around the park and capturing the day with my camera.

The morning was overcast, yet the sun broke through to illuminate the falling leaves, the cliffs and trees, the green heads of the mallards swimming at the beach. The orange snow fence will keep winter-blown debris off the beach and hopefully discourage the beavers from chewing down any more of the beach's poplar trees.

It's the second of November and the park is more full of flowers than people. Roses, pansies, petunias, geraniums, begonias, mums, lilies, mints and camomile. The dead nettles are poking their noses through the drifts of leaves to bloom as vigorously as they did at any point in the summer.

As usual Robert Frost comes to mind as the leaves spin and flutter past me. Right now it's the willow leaves which are falling. As Maddie, our neighbour down the way, said as I paused to chat, "Golden snow."

In Hardwood Groves

The same leaves over and over again!
They fall from giving shade above
To make one texture of faded brown
And fit the earth like a leather glove

Before the leaves can mount again
To fill the trees with another shade,
They must go down past things coming up,
They must go down into the dark decayed.

They must be pierced by flowers and put
Beneath the feet of dancing flowers.
However it is in some other world
I know that this is the way in ours.
~ Robert Frost

The scents of rosemary, thyme, mint and sage mingle as I run my hands over my still vibrant friends. They seem to like their leaf blanket, the growth beneath the leaves is deeper in colour and happier looking.

Tucked in among the mint a cluster of mushrooms shoulders aside the blanket of leaves and spreads out in the sun. They are ephemeral, tomorrow they will be black and shriveled, but today they stand for their share of air and light, their moment of life.

Just When You Thought Nobody Cared

Our little town of Summerland lies alongside the very large Okanagan Lake. Several small towns in a row lie along the lakeshore, separated by a few miles of a twisting, and at times steep, two lane road called "Highway 97". There's a lot of traffic, especially in the summer. So the province has been widening the congested section between Summerland and Peachland, the next small town to the north along 97.

It's been a bit of a pain. The highway lies at the base of steep cliffs and hillsides, and there's no place to put a detour. So traffic is stopped at each end of the construction zone for 30 minutes to an hour several times a day. During these interludes the construction workers blast away hillside, push the debris into piles on the road and then load it into trucks and cart it away.

Mountain goats and deer frequent these slopes. In fact this area is the preferred spot for mountain goats to kid in the spring, as it is inaccessible to most predators. The work was stopped during the kidding season, and stayed stopped until the mother goats moved their kids to better pasture a couple of months later.

About 10 days ago the construction crew noticed that a large crack had developed along the hillside (see line indicated by the yellow arrow), and an entire section of the mountain was threatening to crumble onto the road below. We're talking massive amounts of rock here, an estimated 30,000 truckloads! They stopped traffic immediately, and now travelers have to take a very long detour.

A few days ago the crew noticed that a young goat had fallen into the crevice, and was unable to get out. They dubbed him Houdini and mounted a rescue attempt, which eventually included tranquilizing the goat and one of the crew giving it mouth-to-mouth resuscitation! LOL

For a first hand account of the rescue go here And take heart, there are apparently still a lot of really good people in the world.