Recipe courtesy of David Dempster

A good friend gave us this recipe, which I have made far too frequently as of late, much to the delight of the folks at John’s office (hi guys!). As requested, here’s how to make Dundonian shortbreads (Dundonian = someone from Dundee, Scotland, in case you were perplexed).

Prep. and notes before starting:

• grease a 10″ x 10″ pan & “flour” it with sugar (you do this by dumping 1/8 cup of sugar into the greased pan and swishing it around until the inside of the pan is coated. Leave the excess in there.
• preheat oven to 350F
• I always double this recipe. If you do, too, use a larger pan.
• you can add chocolate chips, if you like
• 1/2 Tbsp of ground ginger makes a nice addition, as does candied ginger pressed onto the top.
• to make chocolate shortbreads, substitute 1/3 cup of cocoa for 1/3 cup of flour
• you can substitute oat flour instead of corn starch
• this recipe makes an excellent cheesecake crust
• for truly exotic times, half-dip the finished bars in melted chocolate

Ingredients (for basic recipe):

• 12 oz white flour (approx. 2 1/3 cup)
• 4 oz corn starch (approx. 2/3 to 3/4 cup – somewhere in-between works well)
• 4 oz granulated white sugar (extra fine, if you have it – not icing sugar, which has cornstarch added)
• 8 oz cold butter (1 cup)

Directions:

1. Dump flour, sugar, cornstarch into bowl.
2. Mix with fingers.
3. Add butter. Rub into mixture with fingers until the consistency of fine crumbs.
4. Dump the works into the prepared pan and tamp down with a spatula (I use a potato masher).
5. Slide into oven.
6. Cook for 20 minutes. Check to see if edges are slightly golden (they probably won’t be, but ovens vary). If edges are not at all golden, shove back in until they are (up to ten more minutes).
7. When edges are golden, remove from over.
8. Let sit for 3 to 4 minutes.
9. Press down with potato masher or spatula again.
10. Sprinkle with sugar (optional, but yummy).
11. Let sit for another 10 minutes, then cut into squares or fingers or whatever other bar-shape tickles your fancy.
12. Allow dish to cool on cooling rack. After cool, store in airtight container.

Enjoy!

Sometimes I wonder how it is that I came to have such good friends. That the generosity and kindness of other people in the world should be directed at me in any way is a source of wonder to me.

Natasha (who I keep alternately and confusingly referring to as Natasha and Sarai, her on-line alter ego) sent me a wonderful birthday present.

I’m still smiling because of it.

A gorgeous burgundy Fleece Artist merino sock yarn (it’s slightly variegated – hard to see in this photo), some Bluefaced Leicester rovings to spin and a set of Brittany Birch dpns (which I’ve never tried, but have been wishing I could for some time now).

My fingers started twitching as soon as I opened it! Talk about incentive to finish the current pair of socks! The burgundy is speaking to me of several possible projects, including one out of Nancy Bush’s folk socks (which my in-laws gave me for a birthday seven years ago). I’m also liking Aran Braid Socks (by Kathleen Hubbard), Fern Lace Panel socks (by Dilys Sutherland) and Japanese Feather Socks (by Jaya Srikrishnan).

Of course, I still have to finish the Monkey socks (by Cookie A.) that are on the needles in Fleece Artist merino (colourway: “woodland”). I almost have one done and they go pleasantly quickly. Once the Monkeys are finished, my total for the year thus far will be seven pairs, which is not entirely shabby for someone who knits as slowly as do I.

a quickr pickr post

John and I have been itching to get the heck outta Dodge for a while now and when Saturday dawned, bringing sun and clear roads, we ran a couple of errands and hit the highway.

Our destination was two-fold; the studio of a hand-spinner whom I know through the NL Craft Council who lives in in Chapel Cove and a friend (who also happens to be the spinner’s daughter) in neighbouring Harbour Main. We set off into the crisp winter’s day. Most of the roads were clear and dry, but you can always count on the Witless Bay Barrens to be windswept and drifting. That section was rather eerie.

We dipped off the highway at Holyrood, near the fish plant (which looks much nicer in winter than summer, incidentally):

Then we got to Chapel’s Cove, the location of Linda Lewis‘ spinning and dye workshop, Baynoddy Knitwear (baynoddy@nfld.com). They have eight acres of farmland that has been in the Lewis family and farmed since 1789. They were given designation as a Provincial Heritage Farm a year or two ago.

It was bloody cold outside, so I didn’t have my camera out for pictures, but we met Wallie, the llama and half a dozen sheep of various traditional names such as Dollie. Wallie was very friendly and came over to snuggle and undress us. Yes, you read that right. Wallie, being of the dexterously-lipped camel family, can unzip (and zip up) coats. It was a little unnerving, but cool nonetheless. Katherine was rather overwhelmed by his sheer size.

Then we went inside, where they had a fire going in the wood cook stove (it was almost the same as the one we have in the smaller house at Exploits,which was a bit of a nostalgic coincidence. Linda’s was the Monarch, whereas we have the King, in case you’re interested.). There was a pot of thick chicken soup simmering and a tray of brownies, just made. Katherine discovered the joys of a large hardwood floor surface and polar fleece pants and so slid around contentedly while Linda showed me her workshop.

She has eight spinning wheels and the results to show from them. I picked up an assortment of her hand-dyed and spun yarns. Some thumbnails of the pieces are below (following the links of the pictures will give you a larger shot and more details about the fibre content):

After lunch and a wonderful visit, we headed along to see my friend Shannon and her husband Toby (a native of Suffolk, raised in the Scottish Highlands), who live in the adjacent community of Harbour Main. They’ve bought an incredibly solid, but somewhat rough, traditional saltbox house that looks to have been built a century ago. The amount of work they’ve put into it is incredible and it’s extremely cozy and warm, with wood heat, good insulation and newish windows. The barn has been hugely overhauled and they plan to build another to house the sheep, goats, pigs and chickens. And the horse. They are planning on having a horse and sleigh rather than a snowmobile. It sounds fabulous, but what a lot of work!

About six weeks ago, they had a baby girl, Sarah Victoria. We’d been waiting for them to get settled into some sort of a routine and for the roads to be safe before visiting. Saturday worked out beautifully.

The Lewis-Simpson family, complete with Ebony the dog and Sarah the pink bundle:

We all went a-walking into the woods and barrens near their house. Lots of animals tracks for Katherine to identify!

By the time we got home, we were all tuckered. It was past Katherine’s bedtime and I had just enough energy left to reread the sections of my Spin to Knit book on drop spinning and how to make a spindle (Linda gave me some of the component wooden bits) before nodding off to sleep…..

a quickr pickr post

Sarai just fished this neat meme out of the capacious chasm of the Internet, so I thought I’d play along.

The rules are:

Look at the list of (100) books below.
Bold the ones you’ve read.
Italicize the ones you want to read.
leave blank the ones that you aren’t interested in.
Movies don’t count.

1. The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown)
2. Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
3. To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
4. Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
5. The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (Tolkien)
6. The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (Tolkien)
7. The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (Tolkien)
8. Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery)
9. Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
10. A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry)
11. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Rowling)
12. Angels and Demons (Dan Brown)
13. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Rowling)
14. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving)
15. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)
16. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (Rowling)
17. Fall on Your Knees(Ann-Marie MacDonald)
18. The Stand (Stephen King)
19. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban(Rowling)
20. Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
21. The Hobbit (Tolkien)
22. The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
23. Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
24. The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
25 . Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
26. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
27. Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte) (read half of it and couldn’t finish)
28. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)
29. East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
30. Tuesdays with Morrie(Mitch Albom)
31. Dune (Frank Herbert)
32. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)
33. Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
34. 1984 (Orwell)
35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley)
36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett)
37. The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)
38. I Know This Much is True (Wally Lamb)
39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant)
40. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
41. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
42. The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
43. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)
44. The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom)
45. Bible (do I get credit for each language in which I’ve read it?)
46. Anna Karenina (Tolstoy)
47. The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)
48. Angela’s Ashes (Frank McCourt)
49. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
50. She’s Come Undone (Wally Lamb)
51. The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
52. A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens)
53. Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card)
54. Great Expectations (Dickens)
55. The Great Gatsby (Fitzgerald)
56. The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)
57. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Rowling)
58. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
59. The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood)
60. The Time Traveller’s Wife (Audrey Niffenegger)
61. Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
62. The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand)
63. War and Peace (Tolstoy)
64. Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice)
65. Fifth Business (Robertson Davis)
66. One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
67. The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants (Ann Brashares)
68. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
69. Les Miserables (Hugo)
70. The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
71. Bridget Jones’ Diary (Fielding)
72. Love in the Time of Cholera (Marquez)
73. Shogun (James Clavell)
74. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
75. The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)
76. The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay)
77. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith)
78. The World According To Garp (John Irving)
79. The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)
80. Charlotte’s Web (E.B. White)
81. Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)
82. Of Mice And Men (Steinbeck)
83. Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier)
84. Wizard’s First Rule (Terry Goodkind)
85. Emma (Jane Austen)
86. Watership Down(Richard Adams)
87. Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
88. The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
89. Blindness (Jose Saramago)
90. Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)
91. In The Skin Of A Lion (Ondaatje)
92. Lord of the Flies (Golding)
93. The Good Earth (Pearl S. Buck)
94. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
95. The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)
96. The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)
97. White Oleander (Janet Fitch)
98. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford)
99. The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)
100. Ulysses (James Joyce)

It was an interesting little trip though my reading habits. I went through various phases in junior high and high school (which explains Margaret  Laurence, Marquez, Rand, Ondaatje, and a few others). University was when I found Joyce, Dostoyevsky and some Bronte. My recent years have seen a revisting of childhood favourites (LOTR, Burnett,  & C.S. Lewis), the lure of escapist lit (Gabaldon) and the discovery of wonderful books that I somehow missed, like Harper Lee’s incredible work.

So 54.5 books. Didn’t see any on the list that appealed to me, but then I’ve given up reading books because I ought and now go solely for pleasure.

Thanks, Sarai! It was fun.

I have ABSOLUTELY no idea what any of this means, but I figure John will. This is in response to his post about what he is – I figured he should know what he married.

Okay all you D&D geeks, is this good or bad?

——————————————-

I Am A: Lawful Good Half-Elf Cleric Bard

Alignment:
Lawful Good characters are the epitome of all that is just and good. They believe in order and governments that work for the benefit of all, and generally do not mind doing direct work to further their beliefs.

Race:
Half-Elves are a cross between a human and an elf. They are smaller, like their elven ancestors, but have a much shorter lifespan. They are sometimes looked down upon as half-breeds, but this is rare. They have both the curious drive of humans and the patience of elves.

Primary Class:
Clerics are the voices of their God/desses on Earth. They perform the work of their deity, but this doesn’t mean that they preach to a congregation all their lives. If their deity needs something done, they will do it, and can call upon that deity’s power to accomplish their goals.

Secondary Class:
Bards are the entertainers. They sing, dance, and play instruments to make other people happy, and, frequently, make money. They also tend to dabble in magic a bit.

Deity:
Tyr is the Lawful Good god of justice. He is also known as Tyr Grimjaws, Wounded Tyr, the Maimed God, and Blind Tyr. He appears as a warrior, missing his hand. Followers of Tyr are concerned first and foremost with justice – discovering the truth and punishing the guilty for their crimes. They wear blue and purple robes with a white sash, a white gauntlet on the left hand, and a black gauntlet on the right, to symbolize Tyr’s lost hand. Their preferred weapon is the warhammer. Tyr’s symbol is a set of scales resting on a warhammer.

Find out What D&D Character Are You?, courtesy ofNeppyMan (e-mail)

Yesterday evening, John dragged me out of the house to Heather and Bob’s for supper. I wasn’t particularly hungry, couldn’t taste anything (which was a real shame) and was miserably sick, but getting out was probably good for me on some level. Having been cooped up all day hacking up lungs, getting out and seeing a world beyond my four walls reaffirmed that, when I felt well, there would be a world waiting for me. Besides, my virulent misery had originated in their abode, so I was merely returning it. Or something like that.

The visit also provided comic relief (a double-edged sword when you’re sick – laughing spawns chest spasms). When I have a head cold, I basically go 60% deaf. This means that I either hear what you said 60% of the time or hear 60% of what you say all the time, depending on circumstances. In this case, I was mentally fading in and out of reality enough that the latter applied; I grabbed sentences from mid-air without knowledge of their provenance.

Which is why, when in the course of conversation, Bob said, “Just spread your legs and trust the rubber,” I damn near blew coffee out my nose. (That really hurts when you’re stogged up, by the way.)

I found out this evening, when John was filling in my lapses of context, that it’s a rock climbing phrase particular to “chimneying”. This apparently involves climbing up the inside of a crevice with one foot on either rock face and relying on your shoes’ traction for survival.

Um, okay. Not quite the mental image I had. In fact, my mental image is now weirder, knowing about the climbing context. I’m sure the Sudafed isn’t helping.
Hey Bob, hope your “protection” holds….

Recently we received a postcard from Natasha, aka Sarai the Mumbling Monkey. Actually, I should backtrack a little here and fill in a post that I kept meaning to write but didn’t.

Natasha hails from the other side of the continent and, before heading to grad school, decided to venture as far east as she could within Canada and check out the culture of Newfoundland. We were out of town when first she arrived, but after taking a weekend to catch up on laundry and the mundane, we invited her to stay with us.

Then it occurred to us in a blinding flash of realisation that we had absolutely nowhere for her to sleep. We ran around frantically, looking at pull-out couches and the like that weekend, but couldn’t find anything that was both within budget and decent looking. After much scrambling, we rounded up a mattress and poor Natasha ended up sleeping on the floor in my studio. I say “poor Natasha” because my tendency to have little-things-that-ought-not-to-be-vacuumed hit the floor is without peer. The room doesn’t get as much vacuuming as it really ought (pins are bad for vacuums), so even with a good sweeping, the dust still seeps out of the baseboard pores. I gave it a quick shuffle and tidy, rounded up a mattress (unfortunately not as comfortable a mattress as I would have hoped) and crossed my fingers that she wouldn’t be wretchedly miserable.

Natasha is a quiet sort of person, although I suspect that most folks would be quiet by comparison to our household. Combine that with my tendency to prattle when slightly nervous or unsure and you have chaos, complete with dogs, kid and puns.

So we took Natasha to Cape Spear, saw a sunset in Conception Bay and did a myriad of other little things. I would gladly have taken her hiking around Torbay, but my feet were still giving me grief and walking was painful.

By the time we got to her, Natasha’d already had four or five days of Folk Festival and late nights and was, I suspect, a little overwhelmed and exhausted. Add another few days of traipsing over hill and dale (we have a lot of those here) and she must have been nearly dead on her feet.

Anyway, we all had a good time and it was very neat meeting someone with whom I’d only ever corresponded by email and blogs. Katherine was fascinated by her, too, and kept chattering about Ma-tasha after the latter had left (on the same day as that airline scare in the UK – how to freak out even the calmest of travellers!).

So when a postcard arrived the other day from Natasha, Katherine was all over it. Here’s the front:

The back is a simple message saying that she’d had a good time, Wolfville has cheesy postcards, she likes puns and has found an apple U-Pick just down the street. You know, garden variety postcard stuff.

Katherine has made me read that card how many times now? Can’t possibly count. Anyway, she’s started reading it herself, only she makes up what she thinks ought to be on the back, given the front picture. Apparently she doesn’t believe that I can really read. Her most recent rendition went something like this:

I had a good time in your house. You shouldn’t eat lobster when you get sick or they will go into your stomach and gobble you from the inside. Lobster are red and dead. Love, Ma-tasha

Um, okay. Good thing I don’t like lobster…. Guess we’ll have curried chicken for supper, with corn bones (Katherine-speak for corn on the cob).

And Natasha? We really enjoyed having you come to stay. By the next time you visit, we’ll hopefully have some sort of a fold-out couch!

John took Katherine (3.5), Sam (7) and Katie (9) to the Botanical Gardens today and overheard this conversation:

Sam: There aren’t any unicorns anymore.

Katherine: Where did they go?

Sam: Jesus came and flooded the world and they were all killed.

Katie: Sam! Don’t be ridiculous! Jesus wasn’t there. God did it.

When John told me about this one I remembered a conversation I’d had with our niece, Jean, many years ago. She must have been four or five. We were discussing the Flood. Normally I stay clear of discussing religion with other peoples’ children, choosing to err on the side of not contradicting things taught, but I thought it was safe to tell Jean that the idea of a flood was found in a lot of other cultures, too. The Middle-eastern flood myth seemed a safe generalisation to make and fascinated her, as well.

Me: Actually, many cultures have a flood recorded in their history. Some have more than one.

Jean: Were they all the same flood?

Me: Well, there has been more than one small flood in the history of time and quite a few large ones, too. In fact, you hear about floods on the news sometimes even today.

Jean: What happens in a little flood?

Me: Well, usually there’s too much water for a river or lake to hold in and it spills up over the sides. Sometimes this is because of lots of rain or melting snow.

Jean: Does God make those floods happen?

Me: Sometimes. Other times it’s beavers.

John is still laughing….

While down at Exploits, the outhouse was a focale subject of conversation. In fact, it was something of a meetingplace for some, as it’s a two-seater. Often one of the kids would bustle in on an adult (or invite the adult to join them) without any hestitation (on the kid’s part). This “togetherness” seemed to invite the sharing of “outhouse humour”, for which Shelley won the award (and made a deep impression on my daughter, as you will see later).

In one of her many excursions to remote places around the world, Shelley had occasion to visit a “snake reserve”, which is exactly what you think it is – a wildlife preserve focussing on snakes. They had a great time, saw all manner of venomous (and probably poisonous) reptiles and finished up with a picnic lunch in the public picnic area.

Shelley was the first to the outhouse and everyone in line behind her was exhorting her to hurry up; much liquid had been consumed. So Shelley did what needed doing and only vaguely noticed the rustling noise. Until she looked down and saw the monstrous rattler less than a meter beneath her bottom.

Apparently she set some sort of record for the half-naked outhouse exit that day and has been somewhat reluctant to use them ever since. She’s not much fond of snakes, either. The wardens came and captured the snake and put him back in his home in the rattlesnake display.

Katherine apparently heard snippets of this, unbenownced to us and processed them in her usual garbled fashion. She mixed them with an earlier household incident, involving the disposal of dead bugs in the toilet and me flushing before using it, as I was reluctant to urinate on dead earwigs. This caused gales of laughter from my husband, who enjoys precisely this sort of activity. So do many men, apparently. Go figure.

Three weeks after the vacation, our daughter popped out of her bedroom and inquired as to the location of her father. I indicated that he was in the washroom and would be out momentarily. Her response?

“Oh, yeah, ’cause Daddy, he pees on snakes!”

Ever since then, when she finds out that John is in the bathroom, she assumes that he’s aiming at reptiles (there are actually no wild snakes in Newfoundland) and launches into lengthy interrogations as to his methods and motivation.

I’m so glad she forgot about the bugs.

The dirt party went well, I think. Heather seems to have had a good time, too. Thankfully this year her knees weren't sabotaged by too much kneeling.

I didn't actually explain the dirt party concept in my first post, so here's what it was all about.

When we bought this house almost two years ago, it was entirely unlandscaped. Actually, that's not quite fair; the front lawn did have sod (but no topsoil). Here's what our lot looked like a month after we moved in. I planted a patch of grass within the first two weeks and it had started to sprout. Our lot goes to the back of the bulldozed area and is roughly half an acre.

We weren't involved in the planning of the house, or I would have had them sod the back and leave the front. I also would have had them put dirt under the sod, but I'm strange like that.

A year later, this is what our back seeded area looked like. (It's a mixture of clover and grasses.)

Notice the rock walls and steps? Brother-in-law Bob built the steps and John and I lugged the rocks and built the walls. At the very back of our lot is an old farmer's stone-pile wall, full of great building material and best of all… FREE!

The raised flower beds are primarily peat-based, and are thus wonderful for growing heathers, rhododendron and other acid-loving plants.

Last year's dirt party saw the creation of my rock garden and bog garden. You can't tell from the photo below, but there is a hidden liner in a portion of the rock garden which retains some water, thus allowing me to grow things that like wet feet (without watering them constantly).

This spring we were planning on making a sizable dent in our gravel pit with another load of dirt. Then John got smooshed by a car and screwed up his back and neck. He's doing better now, but is still unable to be another set of strong hands. So I've been lugging rocks, toting hoses, raking and doing whatever else needs doing. I'm not complaining, but there are still some things that you need two pairs of hands for and ALL work goes more pleasantly when you have company.

So my brother, sister (and her husband), mother, father, John's sister Heather, her husband (the Bob who built the stone steps) and their kids all came over on Saturday to help us redistribute the pile of dirt and to help do things that John can't and that would have to be done solely by my back and shoulders. We cut and moved sod, dug holes, weeded large scary weeds, moved about six cubic yards of dirt, built retaining walls, made another flower bed, enlarged a flower bed, flew kits and generally had a productive and fun time.

I am profoundly grateful to everyone who helped out in any way.
Heather took some photos (the captions are hers):

The girls did a bit of wheelbarrow-filling, but soon wandered off in search of people planting things, and hoses that needed using.

Lift rocks, that is. Wikket supervises.

I kept sweeping the scattered dirt into the pile, so it wouldn't be a driveway covered with a packed layer of unshovelable gunk by the end of the day. Makes it inobvious at the time how small it's getting, though.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

Poor Eleanor's kite turned out to have an affinity for brush.

We packed it in a bit after three o'clock, with the hope that the rest of the pile would flow downhill by itself.

a quickr pickr post

The 2nd Annual Taylor-Hood Dirt Party is scheduled for Saturday, May 20th.

Celebrations will begin anytime after 9am and will continue throughout the day.

Events include:

• rock garden construction
• top dressing of lawn
• flower bed filling
• stone wall construction
• lawn sodding and seeding
• rock raking
• stone step building
• hand washing

The feast will be a barbeque of hot dogs, hamburgers, veggies, ice cream and anything else that looks good at Costco. Vegetarian fare will be served.

Beverages of all sorts available. Coffee is a certainty.

Prizes to be awarded to particpants in the following categories:

• most creative use of a shovel
• fastest wheelbarrow fill and transport
• most accurate wheelbarrow fill and transport
• best use of rocks
• child that causes their parents the least grief
• gardener extraordinaire

All welcome! Bring garden tools and gloves! Email me for further details!

When asked what I wanted to do for Mother's Day by my wonderful husband, I said that I wanted an outing, with hiking, a picnic, some photographs and happy people.

He said he could do most of those, but the last one might be problematic, given that The Daughter has turned into The Fiend lately and throws tantrums because you've told her the sky is blue and, in her mind, it can't be.

At 9:30 on Sunday morning, John asked me to name a location already and I picked Salmon Cove (again) because if the weather was gurk, we could look down at the cool stuff on the beach.

Spontaneously, we decided to call some friends of ours, the Bauers, to see if they were interested in coming along. I thought that they'd still be asleep, but then John reminded me that it was Mother's Day and that kids make their mothers breakfast, which means that fathers get up to make sure the kitchen doesn't burn down. Not only was Larry protecting the structural integrity of the kitchen, he was willing to wake his lovely wife up and put the idea to her. Shelley apparently leaped out of bed and, within an hour, they were ready to go (no one can martial troops like a nurse!) and we hit the road.

The weather was indeed gurk for the first bit, but it de-gurked and became gorgeous by mid-afternoon. We started at the beach and nearly froze our fingers off. Had a quick picnic and then hit the little hiking trail ("Trail of the Eagles" 3km long, gentle), which promised us eagles and other wildlife. The other wildlife was nowhere to be seen, but then we had a herd of stampeding children. We did see an eagle, though:

More importantly, we saw some tremendous views. The trail skirts the tops of cliffs, but is edged by low fencing to prevent people from leaving children behind inadvertently. The sky cleared and the ocean became amazing hues of blue and green. It was incredible and the pictures don't do it justice.

There were, of course, bits that went through woods…. I thought the rocks below looked like facial profiles.

Miraculously, The Daughter remained cheerful and The Fiend was not in evidence. After the hike, we went back to the beach where I indulged my love of leading children in the the path of licentiousness by removing my sandals, rolling up my pants and running in the surf. Three children followed and the result was soggy:

I also managed a couple of shots of Katherine without awakening The Fiend:

Larry got one of me fishing my daughter out of the drink after she did a face-plant. The funny part was that she wanted to go back and do it again!

The face plant more or less ended the beach excursion, though. I don't mid her getting soaked, but sick is more work than it's worth! We dried them off and drove to Carbonear for hot chocolate and a wander along the little boardwalk in the downtown. Katherine was delighted, as they have a train! Luckily, CN never let Shelley drive!

Climbing the train was a big hit, although it was bigger than Katherine bargained for and being up so high freaked her out. Sam and Katie had no such difficulties!

The Bauers headed home from Carbonear while John, Katherine and I decided to swing quickly through Harbour Grace, as the light was still nice and we were in that neck of the woods anyway….

According to a friend who is also a meterologist and wave guru (and who took the picture you see above) the icebergs are on their way. After a quick check of my flickr photos, I noticed that I actually don't have any iceberg shots. Nada. I'm sure I have some taken with film somewhere, but this digital camera is a fairly recent acquisition (end of September of last year) and hasn't had an iceberg season to capture yet.

So I present to you one of Rexton's excellent photographs and the promise that there will be a field trip to find bergs at some point in the next couple of weeks. Possibly next weekend, which is a long weekend in Canada.

Meanwhile, I'll watch the iceberg reports and dream of days when I didn't have a screaming, rock-throwing, kite-flying fiend attached to my leg.

Snapping back to reality. Sorry 'bout that.

After the bergs come, we'll have whales…. Another subject matter of which I have no digital photos.

Yesterday morning, Pat Cowan passed away. I knew her only tangentially, as we regularly met her while dog walking at one time and later knew of her work with greyhounds. I knew little of her political life and nothing of her teaching career. I knew her through her dogs.

They say you can tell a lot about a person by how he treats his dog. I have long been of the opinion that an individual's actions towards the animals in their life are even more indicative than their behaviour towards children. Social services will show up at the drop of a hat, but the SPCA has fewer powers. To not only be responsible towards your own animals, but to assume a role in helping animals in need find other responsible people with whom to share their lives makes a person a sort of hero, in my books.

Pat is the reason that greyhound adoption became possible in Newfoundland. She started the ball rolling in establishing the Newfoundland branch of Greyhound Pets of Atlantic Canada (GPAC) and kicked the ball along whenever it needed momentum. Her own dogs were ambassadors of this cause and I suspect that many greyhound owners (ourselves included) were largely swayed into adoption by having seen the joy that she and her dogs gave each other.

If you can tell a lot about a person by the way they treat animals, then there are not words enough to praise Pat's life. Hey Pat, when you pass by the Rainbow Bridge, there will be a crowd waiting.

I sent this article by Doug Johnston of A Million Monkeys Typing off to a friend and then realised that it was more efficient to pass it along to a bunch of friends via the web. This is, after all, part of the basic point of a blog.

Well worth a read!

Speaking of reading and blogs, a good friend (Doug, aka Rexton) has recently started his own. His photography is incredible (although sometimes I don't think he realises exactly how good his eye is) and he has to be one of the most learned people I've had occasion to meet. He claims to be a meteorologist who studies waves and sends me fabulous predictions as to when to best capture amazing water phenomena. Personally, I think he's a wizard. I ask for good weather and he sends it. What other definition of a wizard is there?

Have a look at his blog and, more importantly, have a look at his photos on Flickr. A humble genius with a camera is always worth visiting!