Annie Bonney

Annie Bonney

This is our new pup, Annie Bonney, at 49 days old.  She came to us on 12 August 2010, from Enfield, Nova Scotia.  She was born on 23 June 2010.  She seems to be very intelligent, walking calmly and quietly on a leash at 51 days old.  Potty training seems to be going well.  She chews a bit but mostly on Tim’s shoes.  She sleeps with us and doesn’t cry at night.  After her early morning walk she dives back to bed with Tim and stays until she thinks it’s time for him to get up.

She enjoys walking on the beach, but the sound of the waves frighten her a bit.  Wet toes are not her favorite thing but she’s getting used to it.  She has several favorite toys including a duck.

A Dark and Quiet Night in My Imagination

 

            Tonight the electricity went out.  As I looked out my window into the night, I realized that the quiet darkness was almost painful to my eyes and ears.  As I became comfortable with the lack of sight and sound, I began to imagine a scene that might have taken place there on the road in front of me a century and a half ago.

 

          A couple walks home from visiting neighbors.  He carries a lantern to light their way, but there is light along the path they follow.  The pond to their left is aglow with the brilliance of a bonfire tended by young and boisterous skaters.  The laughter and chatter of the skaters drifts to them and makes them smile.  Not so long ago they would have been a part of the skating group. 

          Further along the road there is the soft glow of an oil lamp from behind the calico curtain of a friend’s pantry window.  The lady of the house is getting a mug up for her husband before he retires for the night.  He will likely be eating pie or cake that she had baked for him in the wood stove oven earlier in the day.  She will have made tea for him and will serve the snack on the flowered china that was given long ago as a wedding gift from her mother.

          The road continues past the home of another friend.  He swings a lantern on his way to tend to his cattle in the barn near the road.  They can be heard lowing gently as the cow awaits her milking and the oxen ready themselves for sleep.  Chickens in the hen house cluck quietly.  Ducks in the pen quack at their wild cousins flying over.  Children from this house are getting ready for bed, taking the last trip of the day to the outhouse at the bottom of the field, going as a group clustered around the single lamp to ward off the fearsome things hiding in the darkness beyond the little structure.

          As they pass this scene and continue into the darkness they can hear the ever present sound of the waves on the beach and see the sweeping gleam of the lighthouse just off shore.  The crash of breakers on the rocks remind them of the storm just past.  The stars are out and the moon throws silvery light on the road, bordered by snow banks and rocks.  The shadows thrown by the granite against the snow creates enough of a guide to keep them on the path home.  He takes her arm to guide her over the rough spots, toward home and the carefully banked fire waiting for them there.  Soon there will be more light and sound in the small village as she rocks her own little one and sings a lullaby, guiding him to sleep in the gentle glow of their home on this island.

They Go Down To The Sea

            Tomorrow is Dumping Day in Southwestern Nova Scotia.  The little boats of Cape Sable Island and surrounding areas will go to sea burdened with their loads of traps, buoys, balloons, ropes, bait and anchors.  Some will be overburdened in their haste to reach the best grounds, shoals and channels, first and with the most traps.  Some will be more cautious and will have smaller loads; they will fish the grounds closer to the shelter of the land.  Men will be excited and hurried.  They will have little room to work with the confusion of gear at their booted feet.  Awkwardly clothed against the cold and wet, their oil gear will catch at the traps, slippery decks will roll and pitch and fishermen will be cats on their feet to stay upright.  The traps will be dumped in the water with the lines that provide an umbilical cord to the surface singing behind them.  Danger will haunt these men and women that go down to the sea tomorrow.  May they all be safe and well at the end of the day.

     

 

As Requested (All photos were taken by me)

The Tide Starts Over the Road/Daniels Head

Ducks on the Back of the Beach/South Side

South Side Beach

The Dunes are Breached By Storm Surge

South Side Breakwater During the Storm

The Cape Light in April Storm

 

These are just a few of the pictures I took during the recent storm.  It was difficult to get good shots while the rain and spray beat on my face and the camera lens, and the wind tried to take me off my feet.  It was also difficult to get Tim to stop where the best pictures could be taken because he was afraid of taking a wave with rocks in it over the windshield.  I got a lot of shots of horizontal rain and many with raindrops on the camera lens, mostly spoiling them.  I also got a lot of reflection photos because I tried taking them through the window without turning off the flash. 

 

 

Sea Breezes

The recent storm that ravaged the island was one of incredible power and beauty.  To see the huge breakers coming ashore on the beach, with every shade of blue and green, topped with the white foam, was awesome in its terrible glory.    Boulders, some a big as houses,  were groaning and creaking, the strength of the storm surge almost moving them.  The sea birds went alee to take what shelter they could from the wind and rain.  They huddled against bankings, heads down and in small flocks, sensing that there was no safety in numbers amid the gale.  Colorful fishing boats plunged and surged against the fine lines that held them fast to the wharves, while the sea determined to pull them free.  The wind tore water up from the deeps into a mist as fine as smoke that danced over the waves, stinging and weathering further the faces of worried fishermen.  And yet this storm, as powerful and awesome as it was, was but a breeze.  Cape Sable Island has seen many storms of this magnitude and  worse.  Both the land and the people have been shaped by storms, by wind and rain aplenty.   Roads become flooded, wharves are topped by storm surge, breakwaters are breached by pounding seas, and sometimes the ropes do not hold the boats fast.  Beaches are broken, white sand is hidden by smooth cobbles that wash up in the waves, seaweed piles up and rots, and salt water is pushed to the edges of the fresh in the salt marshes.  Inland, trees growing in the bogs are blown down by storms, vegetation is kept low by the salt spray and sculpted by the prevaling wind. The people and the land are molded and shaped by the storms that lash the shores of our island and both are made stronger.

Some more beadwork

This is the hat band that I made for Joe.  The pattern is a spiral, representing the cycle of life.  The colors, red and blue, represent health and prosperity.  I spent a great deal of time this winter looking for the right pattern for Joe.  I came up with some nice ones, but none that made me think of Joe.  As soon as I had this one on the graph paper, I knew it was the one.  It also helped me to come up with a pattern for an amulet for Ralphie.  Thank you Joe, for giving me a reason to create a new pattern.

Ok, here is an explaination for my absence on the blogosphere.  I found out about mp3′s and how to download them.  I found out that almost every song in the world is on the internet and I can have it, if I can find it.  I have found out how to save these songs in folders, neatly categorized and labelled.  I have found out how to then play these songs, and to be able to hear them from the speakers on top of my desk.  But the best thing is…… I can now take those same songs put them on a disk or this new Thing that Tim got me for Easter, a little teensy mp3 player that I can wear while exercising, walking or just doing nothing much.  Music emanates from one little knobby thing in each ear. Now I have three ways to access the music that I want to hear.  I don’t have to listen to Tim’s “cool” music on the radio in the truck, because that plays discs with mp3′s and cd’s, or I can take the little thingy with me.  When he starts playing the stuff in his music folder, I can put the headphones on and listen to my own stuff. Can anyone tell me what the Wonderful Little Thingy is properly called?                                            The Wonderful Little Thingy!

 

 

A Faithful Companion

                                 Timothy’s Captain Morgan

This is our faithful companion and intrepid explorer, Morgan.  She goes where we go and she sleeps where we sleep.  She makes friends where ever we go.  She barks at bumblebee burps, flea farts and horsefly hiccups.  She barks when  the neighbors have company and she barks when she thinks they have company.  She hates Mudpie, Guinea hens, and other dogs on her property.  She thinks that the little birds in the feeders are there for her to protect.  She loves kids and will play with anyone, especially if they throw something that looks like a ball or frisbee.  When she tires of playing she simply refuses to bring back what was thrown for her, often hiding it. She barks at people when they come to visit, and if you come in twenty times a day, she will bark at you all twenty times.  She never barks at the people that come in our house when we are not there.  We always tell people to beware that she is in the house, but she really doesn’t mind having visitors while we are gone.  Apparently, she is a watch dog that will watch while everything is stolen, except for her dishes and her toys, particularly her moosie, which she adores.

   Morgan is a bit overweight.  She weighs nearly twice the normal weight of a border collie, but she is on a diet now.  She goes to her dish and moves the diet food to one side and checks to see if Tim has put any gravy in the bottom, and if he hasn’t, she sighs and eats the diet food for mature dogs.  She runs to the kitchen when she hears a plate being scraped into the compost, knowing that mashed potatoes (with gravy) might be going in there. 

  Morgan is mortally afraid of ferret sneezes.  She cowers next to anyone that will protect her from the sound of Flirt sneezing, and should he sneeze in the night, she lands all four feet on top of my head.  She is not afraid of Flirt, just his sneezes.  She is also afraid of thunder, lightening, power outages, and power coming back on.  She is terrified of the furnace ducts, and when having to pass one she gives it a wide berth.  The one in the hall is passed by pressing against the far wall.  She is afraid of the words bath, tub, tubby, bathtub, and shampoo.  She will not willingly enter the bathroom unless one of us is in there when the ferret sneezes.  We now refer to her having a shower when that time comes, thus preventing us from having to drag her out from under a table.  Morgan loves to swim, but is so much against bathing that she won’t go in the lake if we tell her to go get her bath, and we have to hide the doggy shampoo until she gets wet.  Then we call her out of the water, and put it on her.  Once she discovers our deception, she again refuses to go back in the water until the shampoo is once more hidden.

  Also known as Million Dollar Morgan, she once ate the loaner car that our dealer gave us to use while ours was being serviced.  Apparently Morgie did not like the substitute vehicle and gnawed the door panel to the tune of a thousand dollars of damage in about five minutes.  The people at our insurance agency are still laughing about Tim coming in to tell them that our dog ate a car.  But they stopped laughing long enough to cover the damage, and remind him of it each year when we renew our coverage. 

  Morgan also knows how to spell.  Should anyone be foolish enought to spell the words “keys” or “cat”, she goes crazy wondering where those things are.  The cat, Mudpie, she wants to chase off and the keys means that she will be going for a ride.  She will steal the keys and take them to the mat in front of the door, growling and shaking them savagely, giving them up only if she is going  in the car.

  We love our Morgie and her antics and we hope to have her with us for many more years to come.

6 March 2010:  Our darling Morgan was laid to rest today, under the apple tree in the back yard.  We will miss her so much.  She was a very important part of our lives and she will never be replaced.  But,  even to remove the grief that we feel with her passing, we would not have missed a moment of the experience of having her in our lives, and she will ever remain in our hearts.

Cathy

  Cathy reminds me of a rein orchid.  This orchid blooms in late summer.  It is a delicate little flower that grows in the shadows of the wet woods and in bogs.  The flower has a lovely scent, and it seems to attract plenty of bees and dragonflies to ensure pollination. Cathy grows best in the shadow of her little family, quietly providing for them despite any obstacle.

Chez

Chez reminds me of a bunchberry blossom.  The pale white flowers grow in masses on the floor of the forest.  Hundreds of them bloom together in the spring, creating a carpet of white amid the ferns and bracken, always looking cool and fresh, and then, producing bunches of brilliant red berries to brighten the dying summer.  Chez was a middle child, sometimes overlooked.  But she grew to be a brilliant red berry that cannot be overlooked.