Why Canadians Have a Reputation for Discussing the Weather

Okay, everybody, fling your ball cap, bucket hat, Tilley, or tuque –  whatever you’re wearing this week — up into the air, with a shout of hurrah for Gina: she got it right.

Below are two photos I took this week. First is a crop of the photo from my November 17th entry. Gina, first to comment, said: “Looks very wintery!” Second is as close an approximation as I could crop of the same tree trunks and branches, photographed this morning. Two snapshots, three days apart. There’s always something to say about the weather.

 

A Sunny Day in November

Yep, that’s as good as she gets, boys.

See that skinny little strip of blue? That’s your sunny day.

Only two weeks to go till real dark and real snow.

Guest Blog

Well okay, I didn’t get that writing done that I wanted to. That’s okay. E.g. took some photos today, and then I took some, and I ended up downloading her photos onto my machine, and that gave me an idea, and today’s entry is Photos courtesy of E.g. and Poem courtesy of the late Al Purdy, Canadian poet who visited our high school, leaning against the podium in the library, cigar between unstoppable fingers, the librarian yielding territory to the Wordsmith. Here’s to you, Al.

Update: I just received a breathtaking defamation of character (not in a legal sense of course) in the guise of a you-forgot-to-ask-permission letter from Mr Purdy’s publisher. It would have gone public in the comments section — twice, in fact (I guess the publisher doesn’t know that bloggers vet first-time comments) . I would have accepted the letters, but those of you who read my stuff regularly know I’m not that mean. But I have, as I promised I would, deleted the copyrighted poem. Sorry, everyone, the library’s closing and the public reading is over.

Early to Bed — Understandably

My morning so far:

1. made the bed
2. took the four puppies, one at a time, on leash for first potty breaks
3. let the other five dogs out, in two groups, for their potties
4. prepared (5 different menus) and served their breakfasts in their crates
5. rinsed out and refilled their water buckets
6. polished off two cups of coffee
7. visited half my blogroll and checked out a new blog
8. set the horses’ mash on to soak
9. served the horses their carrots
10. chatted with the roofer and got an estimate from him
11. put yesterday’s washed towels in the dryer
12. served the horses their mash
13. let the dogs out again, this time in three groups
14. rinsed out and filled one of the outdoor water buckets
15. changed the newspapers in the puppies’ crates, and straightened the fleeces in the others
16. ensured that each crate had a nylabone
17. did poopie patrol with the scooper
18. found fresh newspapers in the garage to refill the box near the puppy crates
19. brought in the four “free-range” dogs and gave them bickies
20. opened another pen, brought in the patriarch and gave him a bickie
21. walked the by-now-very-strong Wolfhound puppy up onto the back porch so the Cardi puppies could roam the backyard
22. wrote this entry

… and now it’s 09 25, the time many people are starting their workday.

If it weren’t that doggie bladders already consider 9 p.m. to 5 a.m. a lengthy time span, I would be tempted to go to bed right after the news.

Sling Hay While the Sun Shines

When the small bales came in this year, there were more left over in the loft than usual. So the men set the remaining forty bales on the ground floor in the two small, unused stalls.

One of these stalls formerly functioned last winter as a cozy dog kennel, with a corgi-sized doorway leading to a small fenced run. But not even a corgi is small enough to use a stall that’s filled to the ceiling with hay.

So this morning, I removed the bales. Thirty of them. First I stacked them beside the barn, while the dogs were outside, and then on the other side of the gate, once the dogs were all napping in their crates. twenty-eight bales are now cozily tucked under a tarp, and the other two are being happily munched by Nero and Manitou.

Moral:

A small room filled with hay may have a baleful appearance, but if you’re the type who grasps at straws, you can get the work done and be glad you stook it out.