It's time for Coffee Cake

My mom left me a tattered, well-used and well-loved American Woman's Cookbook published by the Culinary Arts Institute of Chicago in 1947. Last night, as it was chilly and there was nothing to have with coffee, I pulled it out and found a somewhat splattered dog-eared page containing the recipe for Spicy Apple Coffee Cake. It took only minutes to prepare, and as I did, I thought of my mom, her great cooking and how, one day, I'd pass this cookbook on to my daughter. And maybe, just maybe, being a great cook herself, my daughter too might peruse this old book with its yellowed pages, with its cracked decaying spine and worn bluey-green cover, to produce this same cake for her loved ones.

The cake was so good, I hate to admit that it's already gone as we finished it off for breakfast!! Here's the recipe:

2 c sifted flour 2/3 to 3/4 c milk

1 tbsp sugar 2 or 3 apples

3 tsp baking powder 1/3 c brown sugar

3/4 tsp salt 1/2 tsp cinnamon

4 tbsp shortening (I used butter) 1 tbsp butter

1/2 c grated nippy cheese

Sift flour, b.powder, and salt together. Cut in shortening & cheese. Add milk to make a soft dough. Turn out on lightly floured board & knead for 1/2 minute. Pat the dough in ungreased 9" layer-cake pan. Pare apples, core and slice thin. Arrange apples in petal design over top. Sprinkle with brown sugar & cinnamon and dot with butter. Bake in hot over 425 degrees for 25 minutes. It's delish! Enjoy...we certainly did.

Our new vocation or Who says you can't herd cats?

In a recent post about our cat family, I must update you! Momsie and her little crew, Roamer, Mr. Big and Frexie have all, happily, been adopted and are already in their forever homes. Sister and her husband adopted Roamer, promptly renamed him and he's now making their lives more interesting, not to mention their dog's life too!

The Shelter's foster coordinator, never one to miss a chance at filling an empty home, quickly loaded us up with 6 more kittens: a male and his five sisters. They were the offspring of a feral cat who was captured, spayed and now is likely on death row as her wild nature prevents her from ever being tamed, poor thing. Her babies had taken up residence in the woodpile in a lady's garage. The kind lady managed to capture them; hence, our new additions. Mission impossible is to tame and socialize these little wildcats so they too can find new homes.

For a week we kept them confined in a carpeted room, complete with ironing board so they could enjoy the window. They were extremely skittish and scared, hiding in anything that even remotely cover their backs. Here's how we found them, their first night at our place...all gathered in a row.

Left to right, they are:

Minnie (Mouse), Blaze (the trailblazer), Hillary (after the mountain climber), Dot-the-Spot, Pinky (ever shy) and Kally (the calico). The two grays have very different textured coats; the others all have calico faces but three are quite white-bodies, while the fourth is very calico.

We had a few worries in the early days as three came down with cat "colds" (upper respiratory infection) but the Shelter provided meds that quickly fixed that. Although it's an airborne bug, we dosed everyone for a week, and managed to fend off more infection. One, Dot-the-Spot, like the meds so much she'd come up to you asking for it! The rest, not so much.

Our next problem was moving the freezer as, being expert woodpiler-hiders, the kits had no problem burrowing behind the freezer! Check out the photos on Facebook to see how we found them. Out of the kitten room and into the kitchen the freezer went.

We have gradually introduced them to more of the house, taking care to eliminate hidey-holes to they can't sequester themselves away from us. We handle them as much as possible, brushing them, checking for ticks & fleas, and of course, just lots of petting so they do get lots of loving. There's nothing like a blanket of 6 purring, warm little fuzzballs on your lap.


When it's feeding time, I call them in a falsetto voice: Here, babies! Here, babies! and they come running. Who says you can't herd cats? But what's funniest is when hubby does the call, imitating me. They still come running and it's a hoot to see them all milling around his slippers! Food is a really big incentive!

Apart from those who've shown potential as computer programmers (a couple are helping me type this very minute), we've also discovered several of the kits aspire to be sanitation engineers. As soon as the scoop starts disturbing matters in the litter box, 2 or 3 jump right in to "assist", and of course, add to the "matter"! It's an unceasingly interesting activity to them, a little less so to us, naturally.

A friend gave them a magic wand, yes, a magic wand which they love to chase. For us, its magic is in the fact that all six will follow it avidly which is how we get them back to their room at night so we can enjoy a night's rest. Who says you can't herd cats?

Our life is enriched by these little comedians in fur coats. Their purring is calming, their antics better than anything TV can provide, and their trusting eyes, as they slowly learn how to handle us (yes, the shoe is soon on the other foot), make this one of the most satisfying volunteer "jobs" we've ever had!

Parting's sweet sorrow

The past two weeks have been veiled in sadness like a damp scotch mist with the odd ray of sunshine to help push us back to the happy side of life. With heavy hearts, we handed off our first two kittens, Mr. Big & Frexie, to the local humane society for adoption.

Shortly after, we learned our sister-in-law had suddenly passed on. The eulogies at the memorial service paid homage to her memory and it was with mixed emotions we greeted family and old friends not seen in ages. Happy to see people but not under those circumstances. Such is a funeral. It's sobering to think my brother is now a widower, the first of our family to lose his spouse. And the rest of us have lost someone we've all known since childhood.

The family reunion too was bittersweet as we gladly reconnected with distant family members but regretfully, they too had to leave the party earlier than planned as a dear cousin on our cousin's mother's side had passed on.

We were pleased to reconnect with an old friend in Orangeville, enjoy her company and a fine meal plus a tour of the town. Our stay in the McKittrick Bed & Breakfast was also a highlight, as the bed was so fantastic we almost missed breakfast which was a gastronomic delight: a "cocktail" of fruit/yogurt/granola followed by farmers' market delectables, thickly buttered toasty fruit bread and strong coffee.

Happily in Whitby we surprised hubby's niece's family on the hot Saturday afternoon & enjoyed their company with a cool one poolside. On the way home, near Tweed, we picked up some home-made blue berry pies to share with friends. So good to be home.

Then sister came to pick up our last kitten, Roamer. We put that crazy little guy in the cat cage for transport. Of course, Mumsie showed her concern by walking around the cage and mewling to her last kit; she knew what was about to happen. When he reached thru the cage to pat his mum with his little white paw, my heart broke. Sister's renamed him already thus more finally cutting any ties that bind.

The next day hubby took Mumsie to the H.S. while I avoided the teary farewell by making a blood donation. Mumsie will be spayed then given to her new owner. We mentioned her predilection for licking venetian blind cords and chewing on the tassels. I imagine that was what she did when abandoned in her former home.

We went back to the H.S. however, to pick up our next family of kits: a 6-pack who'd been living, wildly, in a woodpile. I got to give Mumsie a final bit of loving then we headed home with the little ones ~ 5 girls and 1 boy ~ to spend the next few weeks nurturing and socializing them. So far we identify them by their physical traits: Bigspots, Littlespots, Fuzzyspots, Mickey (has arches over his eyes like Mickey Mouse ears), Blaze (who has a white "blaze" between his shoulders) and Callie who is calico. Three are hearty and active, one is fair to middling and the other 2 seem weak and traumatized. We hope to get them all on an even keel.

Yes, I get too attached. Yes, it hurts to give them back to the H.S. although I know they'll end up in good homes. All in our first "family" have. I've done my ugly cry and hope I'm over it...but no doubt the tears will fall again in a few weeks time when I fall apart at the Humane Society in front of the inventory they have of 110 cats + the 6 we'll be returning.

Wherever, whoever you are...please consider adopting a cat. Having a cat in your life is a wonderful experience for both you and the lucky cat.

Our new "family"

As many of you may know, we are fostering a pregnant cat we'll call Momsie for the Humane Society. Not knowing how pregnant she was, we didn't know when to expect her litter. Four days later, we knew.

I'd been out socializing with the girls but got home at noon in time for hubby to nervously exclaim "You're just in time! The contractions have started!" I check her nether regions and sure enough there's a little black tail protruding. Oh no! Breech. We check a website for advice; they tell us not to worry so we massage her long spine which seems to comfort her although her contractions are quite intermittent.

At 12:55, no. 1 arrived safe and sound. Momsie did her job cleaning up her kit and chewing the umbilical cord to enable baby to separate. We're not sure of the kit's sex but it's black and white with a pretty white swoosh on the crown of his head. Already, s/he's a good rooter, looking for milk.

Half an hour later, no. 2 arrived but in the usual way: head first. And what a large head. Even Momsie squealed a little when he arrived. He's larger than no. 1 and an orangey/blonde colour. Again, Momsie dedicates herself to his cleanup & detachment.

At 2:10pm, the contractions produce a back foot! Oh, no, not another breech! All goes well and Momsie produces a tiny replica of herself, a black, white and orange calico. Once all Momsie's administrations are done, all 3 bobbleheads inch their way around, toward their just rewards and all settle down.

Ah, what a relief. Momsie's done a great job, all three kittens look healthy. No. 1 has turned in feet but they straighten out after a couple of days. No. 2 is definitely the largest and most likely male. No. 3 seems very assertive and is the most active. All is well, and we now have a beautiful little cat family.

Repetitive Emails

This is a simple request for all my friends and relatives to review their group contact lists to help avoid sending duplicate emails. Here's what I really mean:

A receives an email from B. B has also included addressees C thru Z. A also has a distribution list for C thru Z and forwards B's email on to these same people. The result is an email, most usually a joke, getting sent umpty-ump times to the same people....and so on.

So just a word to the wise: please check (if it's not a blind cc) to ensure you're not contributing to email spam. Thank U!

Fall 2009

Readers, I've taken a short sabbatical from writing over the summer. Not from a lack of things to say (I've always got something to say) but just a kind of ennui with the whole thing. But many readers -- OK, four -- have prompted me to get back at it, so here I am.



Fall is definitely here when you hear the kabang of nuts falling on the tin roof of the neighbour's shed. It's also fall when in the dark of an evening's hot tub you hear the raccoon family munching on said nuts. It's ducking as the local jet fighters, better known as humming birds, caroom crazily over your head, protecting their turf, chittering frantically in their eensey weensey tiny bird voices. It's here when you look across the lake and discern burgundy amongst the green leaves. It's here when you sense the need to cram in as many golf games as you can since the good weather can't possibly last. Fall is pulling out gone-to-seed radishes from your garden, sharing oodles of cucumbers, tomatoes and zucchini with friends and praying the geraniums still have more bloom time. It's no longer back-to-school for us although I do intend to go back to piano lessons, yoga lessons and to following Canada's Food Guide. So many good intentions, it almost feels like New Year's. It's a time of warm days and cool nights and the breezes hold a hint of chill, just enough to want a sweater. Yes, it's Fall.

Playing Catch-up

I've been remiss, dear reader, in not keeping up! So...here's an update:

• Unhappily, something got the baby robins. We found baby-sized feathers on the lawn. Not a beak or a claw was left. We can only hope at least one escaped the massacre. Mother Nature can be so cruel. They were so close to fledging. My heart breaks.
• We've painted the deck. Yes, my darling. Blue again.
• The perennials are doing their thing so I've added some annuals. Ye olde garden is looking pretty good. Now to tackle the veggie garden.
• Dear friend T visited last week from BC. What a girl. We had our fill of girlie talk, catching up on years apart. Funny, we haven't changed a bit. We miss her already but she tells me she and her special man are making a road trip here next summer. Yes!
• I have a new project underway: a neat flag hung between the two birches which, unfortunately have died. Surely we can resurrect them as works of art? Only Rona can say (the flag I want is one of Rona's display flags).
• My sister L's concert was excellent. Check out the Capital Chordettes if you ever get a chance and certainly the men's quartet Real Time. They were professional level and the best I've ever heard. What a show!
• Golf is taking a back seat for the moment but I promise to tell you about my last but best game soon.
• Gotta go hot tub...catch ya later!

I was missed!

Now I know why people so love dogs. It’s because the dogs so love them.

I learned this upon our return from the south. One of my first visits was to the owners of the dog I walk: Spencer’s people. I was a little disappointed. Spencer, himself, was out being walked by Mrs. C’s daughter so we sat and chatted, awaiting his return.

Eventually, in comes Himself, feeling happy and cocky after a satisfying walk. Ever polite, he trots up to acknowledge his master, nudges his mistress then he sits and looks at me. There’s a little pause, maybe 3 seconds. Then…he explodes! He’s like a dog with an interior firecracker! He jumps, and barks, and sniffs, and spits, and licks, and wags, and wiggles and wildly cavorts on me, off me, at me! We laugh just as wildly at his antics.

To put it in Mrs. C’s words: “Well, I guess he knows who you are!”

It was nice to be missed if only by my little four-footed friend and wonderful to see how a dog can show you how much you were missed.

Mother Nature at Work...

We are welcomed home by a new arrival: a spring robin has made her nest over the living room window which also faces our deck. So, to enter the house, we’re disturbing the robin. I promptly put up a sign: Ssh! Robin on nest. Use garage entry.

Everyone is very respectful.

Ms Robin sits dutifully on a clutch of who knows how many eggs. Periodically, she flies off but always faithfully returns. One day we are rewarded with the view of not one, not two but FOUR bald little heads -- beaks open wide, on scrawny bare-skinned necks -- wobbling to and fro they look for all the world like little flowers swaying in unison in the breeze.

It amazes me Mother Robin is so diligent. What is it drives her to feed those hungry, demanding mouths? How does she remember where the babies are? Sometimes we worry when she stays away too long but sure enough, one more look and there she is. Standing on the nest edge, filling beak after beak, with still wriggling worms.

The nest is very full and we wonder how everyone will fit in once they grow a little. Someone might have to move out on the ledge. The good news is, once they try flying, the deck isn’t too far a fall.

We hope as we shiver under our own covers on cold nights, that mother is keeping them warm under her rusty feather breast.

Mother Robin’s steadfastness and the babies’ fragility touch me. Watching Mother Nature at work, I can only hope She’ll let this little mother succeed so these four little robins survive and thrive.

Dilemmas

Today is our 39th wedding anniversary. We'll be entertaining some friends for dinner. The menu? Alphabetically: asparagus, coleslaw, cornbread, garlic/rosemary potato fingers, ribs and cheap red wine. Dessert? Who knows what M is bringing but it's bound to be good!

Last night we played cards with 2 couples: one in their 80's, the others in their 90's. Amazingly sharp people. Now I have new role models! Both couples have been married longer than I've been alive. It gives one pause. Also puts into perspective our 39 years together, and gives me hope we'll have 39 more! After all, I'd only be 96 then! It's wonderful to see how these couples treat each other...he looking over her hand of cards, could see a play which she couldn't. He gently encouraged her "You can do better than that....keep looking" while not giving anything away. She persisted, then saw the play. They shared a special glance, and a smile.

*************

Hubby's just waking up. I'd better slip on my swimsuit for the inpool exercise class (which I've been meaning to join, like forever, but never got there until today!). So...gotta run! But...

in honour of our anniversary, give that special man or woman in your life a nice firm hug, a long soft kiss and a deep meaningful gaze. These moments matter. They really do.

Road Rage

It's always a joy running the four lane route from the city to the lake.

Hubby's rolling along not so fast in the fast lane.

Lights illuminate the backs of our heads. A truck is almost glued to our license plate.

Uh, hon, you might want to get in the middle lane...?

What for?

Well...that truck looks like he's gonna run us over. It might be prudent...?

If he wants to get ahead, he can go around us!

Well...how 'bout you pull over one lane, let him through....?

I'm driving in this lane cuz the middle lane closes down up ahead.

[yeah, in 3 or 4 kilometers...the truck careens around us on the right as we lollygag in the fast lane. I'm sure a saw a finger behind the muddy windshield]

Well...if he'd been doing this to you, you'd probably be mad as Hell. You hate people who do what you're doing. You were probably giving that trucker road rage...

Why the Hell do you always criticize my driving?

I'm not criticizing. I'm just asking. You'd do the same to me if our seats were reversed.

Silence reigns as the radio plays "Joy to the World!"

Organ vs Piano but there's progress

My organ is lovely and has a history: R bought it for his lovely wife, E. However, sadly, E died and R doesn't play so he let it go for a song to me (who also doesn't play). But I'm determined to play, hence my signing up for piano lessons even though the instructor had reservations about my playing on an organ, not a piano.

At first it didn't matter. The notes were simple and I simply stayed in "piano" mode on my organ taking care not to touch any of the 80+ other buttons available to me. But as I progress I realize playing the organ in preparation for my session on the instructor's piano is akin to practising on an electric typewriter then taking an exam on a manual. Somehow the fingers get lazy: they are used to the ease of the organ keys whereas the piano demands of the fingers some stamina, some muscle, some pressure! More speed. Aghhhhh!

I've checked out Lionel Pauzé's piano store in Almonte where there are some very lovely new and refurbished (my price range) pianos of a size suitable to my small digs. Dilemma: stick with the organ or switch to a piano? When one doesn't know what to do the best thing is to do nothing which is my choice of the moment. There is definitely starting to be a large gap where such things as crescendo and diminuendo (dynamic signs) cannot be done on the organ (or maybe I just haven't figured out how). The pedals (3) on the piano can't compare to the multiple pedals on the organ (all of which scare me).

And so the disparities in my two musical vehicles are starting slowly to pose little problems.

But what's wonderful is my reportoire is expanding. Incredibly, I can now play:

• Ode to Joy
• Aura Lee (aka Love me Tender)
• Rock along and Mexican Hat Dance
• Au claire de la lune and a Tisket, a Tasket (what are those things anyway?)
• Good King Wencelas & Jingle Bells (getting ready for Christmas!)
• Brother John and Here's a Happy Song and Merrily we Roll Along
• Largo, Mary Ann (a toughie), Rockets (easy) and What Can I Share?
• My favourite - When the Saints (the only one I have actually memorized)
• Love Somebody, A Friend like You
• The animal songs: Donkey and the Cuckoo. Note: animal songs are HARD!
• My lifestyle song: Money Can't Buy Everthing
• The lovely and serene Harp Song
• The almost impossible Beautiful Beautiful Brown Eyes (Dear Lord, why does this song give me such grief?)
• Good morning to You and...wait for it...
• Happy Birthday to You which arrived just in time for me to torment my poor husband to death as it was my personal challenge the very week of his 60th birthday!! Quelle coincidence!
• Now I'm "Standing in the Need of Prayer" trying to master eighth notes. But there's a trick to it and I think (hope and pray) I've figured it out. Tomorrow night's lesson review will tell the tale.

Amazing progress don't you think? Next we explore the Metronome!

Never too Old to Learn

I have started taking baby steps toward fulfilling a personal goal: to play the piano. Yes, I'm in week 5 of my lessons and am starting to sweat.

At first it was a piece of cake. But now the chording and coding is getting more challenging. My teacher is excellent. Only 18, she's at the Grade 10 level in the Toronto Conservatory of Music. She's very patient and kind. The only problem is: seeing her only once per week means I have an entire week to practise, oftimes in error as there is no one about to tell me I'm getting it wrong. Of course, it all sounds good to me!

Humility, they say, is good for one's soul and I'm becoming more and more humble every week. But: I have mastered When the Saints Come Marching In and even had a few singers join in when I played it for a friend in a seniors' residence last week. So what if it's the only song in my repertoire? My challenge this week is "Beautiful Brown Eyes"...tricky little piece...but who knew?

Next, my organ vs piano dilemma.

Name that Harley!

This story is for all my motorcycling friends. Enjoy.

While walking with L and Spencer around the park, we came across W who, wanting to stop raking leaves for a few minutes, shared this story.

Having lost his way to a new golf course, W stopped in at a ladies' gym to ask directions. The lady at the desk knew exactly what course he was looking for and told him this:

"You're on the right road. Keep going straight until you come to the Suck-Bang-and-Blow, then make a right, it's right past there."

Not sure he heard her right, W repeated the instructions, then asked (trying to keep a straight face, and thinking the worst), "What exactly IS the Suck-Bang-and Blow?"

"Oh," she said, "I guess you're not from around these parts?"

"No," he admitted, "we're Canadian."

"Well," she told him, "the Suck-Bang-and-Blow is the motto of our local Harley Davidson shop."

And sure enough, as W followed her directions, he drove right past a Harley dealership with this huge sign that read "Suck, Bang and Blow."

Fall Reflections

Fall is upon us. She's showing herself in so many ways...it makes me wistful. The geese have started their long journey and not a day goes by that I don't look up and wish them safe journey. Pumpkins and mums are popping up by everyone's doorsteps. Yet there's still the odd vibrant rose and shasta daisy competing for attention here and there. The "dollyhocks" are in full bloom and I am enjoying every single one as they're not perenniels thus won't be seen until the summer after next, same as my foxgloves.

The lake reflects all the hues of the golds, oranges and reds of the soon-to-fall leaves. I've filled two pumpkin-faced bags with those already fallen and moved four other bags already to the compost area. Yes, to Hell with yoga for the moment - I'm into raking big time!

I've cleaned out the garden except for the carrots and swiss chard which are still bravely growing. My tomatoes, red, green and my favourite - yellow, are gifts from my garden which we're greatly enjoying.

I've yet to take down the hummingbird feeder, but it is time. Maybe today. Chickadees and finches are begging at the feeders already and the jays have done their work on the nuts from nearby oak trees. Spencer and I still find the odd frog who hasn't yet gone underground for the winter. The snake he was so interested in is no longer; unfortunately, someone ran over it and now it's a leather S on the pavement (poor thing). But that one aside, this had to be a good year for snakes. I've never seen so many snake babies as this year (most of them on golf courses).

The sail boat is still in the lake and I must go down today and bail as we've had rain. I can't bring myself to take her out just yet and hope tomorrow will bring wind so we can have one last run across the bay. Speaking of rain, I am rain-ready having bought a brand new pair of rubber boots - red plaid! They make me feel jaunty just writing about them.

Next to store are all my garden goblins and junk. I stash all kinds of things here and there in my garden but there comes a time when it must be re-stashed in the shed. One poor item, a blue trumpet-playing frog - a gift from my friend P - has barely had time to adjust to his new digs and now he'll be mummified for another 7 or 8 months. Just saying that arouses the spectre of Winter!!!!

The days seem grimmer somehow. The sun shines here and there when the clouds manage to spare the space. The north wind prompts hat and coat attire. Yes, it's autumn, that season of winding down. It's election time here in Canada which is also rather depressing. But, it's all part of the cycle. The beauty of the trees all around certainly do arouse the spirits, particularly when spotlit with sunshine. The golf courses are at their peak as is my golf game. Pity, as that'll soon end. It's hard to believe it's October already. Truly a time to give thanks despite headlines full of doom and gloom.

I'm Still Listening

I often listen to the radio, specifically CBC. Yes, that likely puts me in the nerd category as I personally know very few of my friends who are amongst my fellow listeners even though I know CBC radio is popular with many Canadians and non-Canadians. Recent statistics cite a definite dearth of listening teenagers in radio (let alone the CBC versions) as IPods and internet steal them away. Seems the audience is mostly us "oldtimers" but who really knows for sure? All I know is CBC radio gives my brain food for thought. It teaches me things I never knew before or presents views that open up my mind. It challenges me, and for the most part, keeps me optimistic and proud to be Canadian. I think CBC radio is one of the best things going on out there and talk of changes to it make me quake.

My favourite radio time is 8:45ish, Wednesday nights when Outfront comes on. Invariably, I'm in the car either returning from nine holes with the girls or coming back from piano lessons (yes...more about that on a subsequent blog). It's always dark on the country roads I travel and I love the sound of the various voices of other Canadians telling me their stories - fascinating snippets of the voices and sounds of their lives -- against a backdrop of stars. I'm tempted to apply to Outfront to present my own version of "sounds like Canada" but have yet to be inspired. Tune in to Outfront one night - I guarantee you'll like it.

Radio's a funny thing. It doesn't take much to stop you in your tracks and wish for an instant replay button. Listening to The Current the other day, I heard a commentator refer to the "boogey people." Now perhaps the context of the phrase should have clued me in but it didn't. My attention to his point stalled on that expression. Boogey people? Who the Hell are boogey people? A new dance troup? A nose picking group? Yes, I'm a little slow but suddenly I got it: he was just being politically correct. Aghhhh! He meant bogeyman; that monster that scares the bejesus out of us all. See what I mean about having to think? Ok, not too cerebral but hey! I wish someone on the panel had had the chutzpa to pick up on the silliness of his PC-ness.

It's said radio is losing ground to TV and internet. I hope not. As kids, we regularly listened to the radio. Every noon, when Dad was home for lunch (good grief! how many kids can say that today?), everyone had to be quiet, had to listen as Parliament Hill bells chimed the hour. For the longest time, I thought the radio program was called "Shits, the News" but eventually I figured it out: "Shhhh. It's the News!" The program would start with the ticking of a clock as Eastern Standard Time was established for all to re-set their watches. On our radio station, I also seem to recall (I hope someone can verify this) the recital of the Hail Mary in French although all programming was in English. Now this could just be a result of one of my faulty brain cells hence my wish for confirmation by someone with a better memory than mine.

Regardless, at that time, the 50's and 60's, radio engaged our brains, our imaginations and expanded our world. As there are still many corners of the world with little illumination, I can only hope radio will continue to play its part: shedding light.

Keep Leaping

To paraphrase Wikipedia, a leap of faith may be seen as a transition from one state of being (or other quality) directly to another without any overlap, that is: without possessing or occupying both qualities at the same time.

Some of us look before we leap and others just leap. We take intellectual leaps of faith every day…in traffic for example. We assume everyone hurtling at us from the other side of the road is as caring, well-trained and attentive as we are. And if they’re not, well…we’re defensive, aware and responsive. So we’ll be safe. Daily we leap into the automatic “all is well” mode.

Some leaps, by nature, are physical. On a zip line at Tremblant’s Acrobranche, for example, I had to convince myself the caliper and line would hold me if I stepped off the platform into thin air. My brain screamed “Can I trust it?” and my instincts via heart palpitations, fear, and sweating advised “Don’t do it!” in the many minutes it took before I simply inhaled and leapt into space. Or stepping again, into falling, falling, falling 14 feet into water off our local pier. I trust that it’s safe, that I’ll land safely. As would any bungee jumper.

Some leaps are metaphysical, for instance: marriage. I’d chosen my spouse, and he’d chosen me. He wasn’t my parents’ choice however. Nor was I his mother’s choice. They’ll grow to love him, I thought; I’ve made a good choice and wondered if he thought the same. And I leapt into marriage without a backward glance. After all, he had everything I was looking for. It was a leap of faith that's still paying dividends as we continue to enjoy each other's company and head into our 39th wedded year.

During a recent exercise, my yoga instructor commented on my willingness to let go. I had to trust her with my body as she contorted, massaged, and stretched it. Once again, I took a leap of faith and just let myself totally relax. I trusted her not to hurt but to help me, and she did. What a wonderful session it was!

Of course leaps of faith most often refer to faith itself. Faith in God, believing in God. Leaping from non-belief to belief requires one to suspend logical, rational, reasoned thought. Or does it? I’ve watched some of my contemporaries grapple with that leap. Many, like my husband, make it fully across the gap, and simply believe as it comforts them. Many are believers from childhood; they leapt early. Some are left straddling the gap hoping for the relief belief in a Divine Deity can bring but calling it by other names they’re comfortable with. That comforts them but they’re in that awkward almost-transition, not really having leapt at all. And some never take the leap, never approach the gap, but are comfortable living within the realm of their own rationalizations and feeling of rightness.

Take a moment to think about and reflect on your own leaps of faith. Have you leapt lately?

Writing in a Void

Sometimes, when I'm writing to this blog, it feels like sending a missive out into space. Who knows if it'll be read? Who knows if anyone will read it or take a moment to comment? Why do I even bother? But bother I apparently continue to do if to ensure the memories stay fresh.

We're experiencing wonderful weather right now. It's as though Summer has finally decided to show her face in days bursting with sunshine and heat, just as Fall is starting to show his face in the odd lawn dappled with fallen maple leaves and apples.

Yesterday, I was the only one in my yoga class. P, my instructor, gave me such personalized attention, I felt like a million dollars when I left. What a treat it was.

Then, some of us local girls met and chatted over coffee on M's new deck. It was so hot, we had to move indoors. After lunch, three of us threw our kayaks into the Madawaska and paddled idly down river, taking in nature, cottages and the beauty of the day reflected in the mirror of the river's surface. We stopped and swam at a sandy beach - the water was so warm! What a wonderful September treat. We are so lucky to be living in such an incredibly beautiful and peaceful land. Sometimes I feel like pinching myself: it's Heaven.

Hubby and I had had a most lovely weekend which started Thursday golfing with friends at the fiendish Smugglers' Glen. It's not for the faint of heart. Friday saw rain so the Casino at Gan welcomed us in and gladly took what money we would've spent on golf. Our friends headed for home up the 416 but we dawdled up 32, hitting wonderful little shoppes.

We spent too much at Kilborn's on the Rideau (what an awesome place to shop), ate too much at the Stagecoach Restaurant (cinnamon buns, anyone?) and played just enough at Rideau Lakes golf course. Dinner at the Opinicon Lodge was to die for (no calory counting there) and hubby even saw a deer strolling near the parking lot! The Stirling Lodge put us up for the night in an old manor that looked like something out of a Trish Romance painting (12 foot ceilings), and next morning threw in a very satisfying breakfast to boot! We then golfed Evergreen GCC near Westport, with some very nice people, then dined in Perth at the GoodWood Oven...ummm! And, of course, it's always good to return home feeling totally spoiled by that husband of mine. I am such a lucky woman in so many ways.

Our Rustic Arbour

I love rustic things, furniture, birdhouses, plant holders – you name it. My dream of building my own rustic arbour began while kayaking on Lake Mindemoya on Manitoulin Island. I’d spotted a vine or tree of some sort which had twisted upon itself in climbing another stronger tree onshore. And so the seed of a design began for my arbour. But step one was convincing my husband and brother to retrace my kayak path but in the boat with a saw to retrieve it. That obstacle was more easily overcome (with much explanation, of course) than expected. My brother thinks twisty wood is really tag alder…anyone know for sure?

But once you spot twisty wood once, you see it everywhere! Hubby spotted some on our cottage landlord’s land; it was even more incredible than the wood we already harvested. With the landlord’s blessing, we harvested that too with a little more difficulty. It required climbing on the roof of the car, my hubby hanging like a gorilla for the thing was hard to take down.

These several large pieces of twisty wood accompanied us home and lived in the garage over the fall, winter and spring (my deadline for creating the harbour was this summer). As luck would have it, I also found some old cedar fencing long abandoned in a swampy area. Again, poor hubby was recruited to help me load up the station wagon. And the twisty wood had the cedar pieces for company over the long cold winter.

Walking Spencer one day, I spot more “twisty wood” down by the Fire Hall. My reluctant recruit, poor old hubby, once again came to the rescue, sawing and hacking off a few more pieces to better enhance the arbour.

People were beginning to doubt my dream. “Are you really gonna build something with that stuff?” I’d be asked. Sometimes I wondered myself. In a moment of doubt, I asked a renown wood man up the road if he'd like to have it, and while he was tempted, he encouraged me. Just listen to the wood, he said, it'll tell you what to do. So I drew up a vague plan, once again recruited Old Faithful (hubby) - we listened to the wood and just did it!

It’s a pretty basic structure: four pieces of cedar standing upright, connected top and bottom by other cedar cross pieces. And the twisty wood? Well, it’s the décor down the front, down each side and across the top. I’ve added to rustic birdhouses, a couple of tin birds and a humming bird feeder. Ants are drawn to it and so, of course the birds love it: chickadees, woodpeckers, wrens, and finches. It frames my neighbour’s garden of summer flowers beautifully. There are some twisty pieces reaching up into the sky which I wanted to cut off, but hubby like them and so we compromised - now the birds have a nice tall perch with which to serenade the world.

It isn’t the steadiest structure in the world but we’ve done our best to reinforce its stance with pieces of rebar pounded into the earth and securely attached.

Maybe next summer I’ll add a creeper of morning glory or a phalanx of holly hock but for now it stands in its own plain glory, drawing the attention of birds and neighbours, and pleasing the eye of those who bathe in our hot tub.

Framing neighbour's garden



More detail (other side)

More on life and death: Road Kill

No one is insensitive to the amount of roadkill seen every year May through October. One would think a "developed civilisation" such as our's would have managed to address this problem by now. Unhappily, no, we have not. According to Mahatma Gandhi: "You can judge a society by the way it treats its animals."

The human view is: better to kill them than ourselves. The advice is standard: if one cannot safely brake, then it is better to collide with the animal than risk injury or death in trying to avoid it. Statistics are rampant throughout the Web as to the number of human and animal deaths. Human injuries and vehicular damage (and resultant insurance costs) are also tracked but animal injury is not, given those who survive the initial impact retreat to nature to either heal or die...so animal deaths stats should include a + sign.

In my family, we've hit (and obviously survived) a moose, and a deer. The moose -- hit first by another car, then us -- was toast. The deer we're not sure as it bounced off the car and then was no where to be found. In both collisions, we count ourselves lucky. The cars, not us, were damaged. My husband narrowly missed hitting a large buck as it bounded from one ditch to another, and I was lucky when a deer ran between my car and an approaching car at dusk. My brother-in-law and his co-worker recently avoided killing a bear, not seeing, therefore running over, the two small cubs following her out of the ditch. People my sister knows avoided an animal collision but were badly injured themselves in doing so.

I used to think since we paint the roads, why not put some kind of scent to deter animals in the paint? According to some websites, animals quickly become inured or "habituated" to such deterrents so they work for a little while but not long. According to the Canada Safety Council, others are working on other means such as:

• Corridors like the 8-foot high Parks Canada fence along the Trans-Canada Highway through Banff National Park and the 22 underpasses (culverts) and two 164 foot wide overpasses built. Highway kills dropped 96 per cent.
• Designating high risk road sections may cause drivers to slow down
• The Wildlife Warning System, developed by Saskatoon-based International Road Dynamics Inc., uses proven technologies that sense approaching vehicles and then activate deterrents such as sounds or lights to warn animals in the area. The Saskatchewan government, testing the system on a stretch of highway notorious for wildlife-vehicle collisions, has published no official results yet, but its first year of operation has seen deer-vehicle collisions drop.
• Similar NASA infrared technology called NightVision (TM) is available in some General Motors cars. This helps the driver to to detect potentially dangerous situations, such as the presence of animals or pedestrians, beyond the range of the headlamps.

In CFC's words: there is still no substitute for a defensive driver.

Species most at risk are frogs, snakes and turtles. In my area, from my own day to day survey in my area, the majority of the dead are frogs, raccoons, porcupine and deer. In the case of frogs, entire species are at risk of disappearing.

For more tips on this topic, visit this wonderfully helpful site Wildlife Collision Prevention Program from the province of British Columbia in Canada. Learn to reduce the chance of a collision, what to do if you hit an animal, and where and when collisions might occur.

I stop to move slow-moving turtles out of the way (unless they happen to be snappers). I drive more slowly in high risk areas and pull over to let others pass if I'm too slow for the other road warriors.

I utter a little "God bless" under my breath everytime I see some hapless animal obliterated by a vehicle, and pray we find some way to stop this carnage.