Who was it
first uttered those
words? Keep out.
They’re not nice.
how you say them,
how you dress them up.
like a bare-branched-tree-lined
lane in winter. with a
sign crucified lopsided
neat black letters on
hunter yellow: KEEPOUT!
It catches the eye, draws you on,
draws you in, begs your attention.
Who was it first
uttered those words? What
was it they needed
they craved, they suffered
so much for
they couldn’t connect,
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No copying without permission of the author.
Here are some pictures I took this weekend of the fields around Bon Accord, County of Sturgeon and County of Westlock. Just to give you an idea of how beautiful it can be in this lovely season. I took them between 5;30 and 6:45 in the evening.
I played around with the colour in some of them, because one thing I did learn in my solitary photography class a few weeks ago is that the colour captured by digital cameras will never be as good as what we used to get with roll film. So, going in to tweak the colour is not cheating. It’s representing what your eye saw. Hopefully, you like what mine saw.
I have a great husband, he’s hard-working, funny, loyal and he helps out around the house from time to time. However. . .
. . . he cannot handle my doing something private/personal like reading, writing or blogging when he’s in the same room. He continually interrupts me with silly questions and comments — it’s like he can’t stand that I’m not paying attention to him. A very fundamental observation, I think. I try hard to just ignore his stomping about, his noisy thrashings, the sighs, the barrage of questions, but it’s not too long before I start feeling a tad guilty.
Now, that’s silly, isn’t it? Why should I feel guilty because my focus is elsewhere? Relationship quandary — still, after nearly 31 years of marriage! I do love him though — he’s buttering my toast as I write this ( and complaining about our piece of shit toaster.)
Breakfast was nice, but then. . .
. . . we got into a stupid argument about trees! He can’t stand anything that makes a ‘mess’. Trees, being what they are, create a mess — well, I don’t consider it a mess, he does — they’re just trees, they can’t help it. Life is messy, I said, to which he got angry because somehow that implied that I was saying he didn’t like ANY trees. Truth is, he doesn’t — he got rid of every single tree in our back yard so he could build a monstrous garage. Anyway, he’s cranky now, and I’m just annoyed. Some yard work on opposite sides of the house should correct that.
Don’t know what got into me last night. Started cleaning house — it’s been ignored because of all the yard work and other activities that have taken up my time — and before I knew what I was doing I was taking down the curtains in the kitchen and washing all the cupboards and walls! Trust me, those walls needed it, but all I was going to do was wipe the counters and wash the floors! So, now that I’ve started with one room, I’m going to have to do the rest. Ah, well, I’ve got the time, it’s just I’d much rather sit in a lounge chair with a book and a beer than wash walls.
And while we’re on the subject of reading . . . I haven’t done near as much of it as I wanted to. So far , this is what I’ve read: Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martel, wonderful though disturbing book; The Fourth Hand by John Irving, typical Irving; The Independence of Miss Mary Bennett by Colleen McCullough,her interpretation of what happened to the sisters in Pride and Prejudice after they all(except Mary) got married. A nice summer read, a bit fluffy and fantastic, but it was great for the train ride to and from New York. Now, I’m reading The Full Cupboard of Life, by Alexander McCall Smith. He writes The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series, set in Botswana, Africa. this is book 4, I’m actually re-reading it, because I forgot where I left off in the series. I adore these stories. His characters are wonderful, the setting is amazing and he writes with an obvious love of Africa and its people. Highly recommend these books. Nice, fast read.
Well, I’m going to have to pull this to a close — it’s starting to get warm outside and I have lots to do.
It’s a rainy morning in Bon Accord. Just a light rain for the moment, but we’re expecting an inch to fall throughout the day.
As we walk through town each day Heather and I notice all sorts of little things — whose planted in a new shrub, or how many new houses are being built, who got a new car, whose grandkids are visiting — that sort of thing.
But, over the past couple of weeks it’s really become alarming to see what is happening to our lovely spruce trees. I’ve lived here 20 years and when we first moved here one of the things that we noticed was the long row of spruces that flanked what used to be the railroad line.
Well, the railroad was gone a long time ago, but the trees remained, untouched and unspoiled until developement began. Then, contractors began to complain (and I’m sure, some homeowners, too) about kids playing in the bottom branches of the trees and building forts with contraband scrap lumber.
So, the arbitrary decision was to go in and hack off the bottom 4 -5 feet of branches on these lively, iconic trees. Heather, who knows a helluva lot about trees pointed out this morning how what they’ve done could possibly destroy these lovely trees. By removing the bottom-most branches — those with the widest spread– there is now no way for rain to make it out to the feeder roots, and, as a result the trees will likely suffer from a lack of moisture.
Now, bear in mind that although this has been a particularly wet couple of months, it’s not always like this. In fact, more often than not, it’s damn near drought conditions pretty much most of the time. Aesthetically, what’s been done to these trees is also a disgrace — they are far more beautiful in their natural state. Now they seem somehow degraded, sad and pathetic. Seeing them in their altered state makes me angry, and also makes me wonder — why do people always have to try to ‘improve’ things?