Both photos were taken from the balcony, but thirty minutes apart. They show how the lighting had changed during that lapse of time.
Last night at square dancing, I learned that Highway 16 had been closed for most of the afternoon because there was an accident with a semi by Goat River that left the freight truck sideways across the highway, blocking it. I don’t know if there were any injuries.
It had been a month or so since I last used my snowblower this winter, but fortunately, it started right up and allowed me to clear my driveway. I was happy to have the snowblower today because this snowfall is a damp, heavy one, not like the light powdery snow we usually get. It would have been a lot of work to shovel it. The snow is still falling day, but now that I have the driveway cleared, it should not present a problem.
View my paintings at: davidmarchant2.ca
The long drive to “PG” with all of its curves and hills, through the mountains (not to mention the unexpected wildlife on the highway) is long, but tolerable during the summer, but during the winter months, the drive can become very dangerous. We have known people who were killed and crippled in accidents while making the drive to Prince George, during the winter.
White-outs caused by blowing snow and passing big trucks, icy road conditions, and thick snow accumulations all make for a long, slow, white-knuckle drive. Winter also means shorter days, and driving in the dark with today’s ultra-bright oncoming headlights blinding you, means we try to avoid having to go to PG during the winter, if we can.
We had a long set optometrist appointment in Prince George tomorrow, but today’s and tomorrow’s weather forecast shows periods of snow, so I just called and cancelled tomorrow’s appointment because of the predicted snow. Fortunately, the medical and dental facilities understand the regional weather, and don’t make a big deal about cancelations for people who live outside of Prince George.
The only downside to canceling an appointment, is that it often means another long wait until our next one. Our next optometrist appointment is not set for the middle of July. At least in July, the driving conditions will be a lot safer.
While it is troubling that paperbacks will be disappearing, I guess I am part of the problem. Although I read a lot of paperbacks, I have not actually bought one in a decade. Most of paperbacks that I read are used, and recycled paperbacks. One of the major benefits with used paperbacks is that here in the Robson Valley, we have several sources where I can get the the books for free. There is a shed at the dump, where people donate and recycle their books, same thing happens at the train station, and our library often has discarded books, for a donation.
I had to hunt around for some paperbacks for the photo above. After reading most paperbacks I turn them in for others to read. The paperbacks shown are all ones that I enjoyed so much that I wanted to keep them for a second reading.
I have also recently read that the reading of all books has fallen 40% in the last 20 years. It seems that people are just not reading books anymore, preferring instead to spend their time browsing on the internet. This is particularly true with young people. Because of their internet habit, their attention span is so short and in need of so much generated excitement, that they no longer have the patience to read a whole book. In an interview by Katty Kay with author John Grisham, both admitted that they have paid their grandchildren to read whole books.
I gotten so much enjoyment in reading books over the years, and it makes me sad that so many others are missing out on something that can give a person so much satisfaction and understanding.
Take a look at my paintings: davidmarchant2.ca
During that time, there was, what has now been called the “Folk Revival” that was popular with a segment of the young generation, particularly university students. Even though I was in high school, I caught the folk bug, watching “Hootenanny,” a weekly TV show that was on Saturday Nights. The show featured folk music concerts filmed at universities, featuring a wide spectrum of folk singing groups and individuals.
The music really connected with me and inspired me to order a banjo from the Sears catalogue. I didn’t know a lot about banjos, but I loved the sound, energy, and fast finger picking of the instrument. When I got it and taught myself some chords, I continued to watch banjo players when they appeared on the show, and to my dismay, I realized that I had bought a four string banjo, not a five string banjo, which was the type used for finger picking. Five string banjos have the fifth string attached halfway up the neck.
Luckily, in the back of a folk music magazine, I saw an ad for a five string banjo neck, so I ordered it, removed the neck from my banjo and installed it, making my instrument a five string banjo.
Our folk club met on weekends to play and sing. We even performed a few times. The article about us mentioned some of the songs that we sung, a few I still remember, a couple I have no memory of, and one, “Stewball,” a popular Peter, Paul, and Mary tune, I still play at our Tuesday Night Jam.
Seeing the old newspaper article made me realize just how long I have been playing music. While I started with the banjo, I soon jumped over to the guitar, which was more versatile. My acoustic guitar, eventually led to an electric guitar when I played in a Rock and Roll band. Later, I bought and taught myself to play the mandolin.
These days in our Jam. I play the acoustic guitar and mandolin. I also continue to love to sing. Mostly I love to sing harmonies, but in our jam I usually have to sing the lead.
Music has always played a important part of my life, and I am fortunate that now in my dotage and having lost a finger, I am still able to participate in it. All week long I look forward to Tuesday Nights , because that is when our Jam gathers to play music. Tonight, which is Tuesday, one of songs I will pick to do, is going to be “Stewball.” When we play it, I am going to think about those years of long ago, when my old friends and I played the same song in high school.
View my paintings at: davidmarchant2.ca
I knew there was a possibility of an irregular night just before bedtime, when I carried Kona out for her final pee. That last pee didn’t happen.
Something was wrong with Kona’s irregular legs, which she uses to struggle over to find the exactly-right place to pee, but last night she just sat there, when I put her down. I think her joints were just hurting too much for her to try, so after a long wait, I picked her back up and carried her back into the house.
I knew that her lack of peeing before bed, meant that she would probably have to go in the middle of the night, and that is what happened.
I was in a deep sleep, when my wife’s voice broke through my slumber, telling me that Kona seemed to want to go outside. Although I forced myself out of bed, I was only half awake and very groggy. I didn’t get dressed, thinking that the underwear that serve as my bed clothes, would probably suffice in getting me through a quick trip outside. I did put on my winter boots.
I bent down, picked up Kona, who seemed heavier than usual, and carried her out the front door. When I opened the door, I saw that overnight, a skiff of snow had covered the sidewalk and yard. I stepped off of the porch and began walking down the sidewalk. I stopped, then began to lower Kona onto the ground.
Every time I do this, before she gets to the ground, Kona starts really squirming and twisting, trying to keep her balance. When she did that last night, as I was bending over to put her down, it threw me off balance, causing my boots to slip on the snowy sidewalk, and down I went, slamming my side on the edge of the sidewalk.
Fortunately, Kona seemed okay and waddled off to pee, and I lifted myself back into a vertical position and began to brush my now snow-covered underwear, off. It was hard to get the snow off of my back, but I did the best I could. When Kona was done peeing, and signaled me by sitting down, I hefted her back up in carrying position, and carefully packed her back into the house to her bed.
By this time, I was wide awake. I took off my boots, then went upstairs to the bedroom, and still in my semi-damp clothes, crawled into bed. I never regained that deep sleep I had been in, before my outside adventure.
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When our tram began to approach Amsterdam’s Central Station, it unexpectedly stopped. Passengers in the front of the tram started to get off, but a uniformed woman who had some handcuffs boarded, and seemed to be telling us to stay. Then, when she did direct us to go, a uniformed man passed us, heading for the back of the tram, and I think they were in the process of busting some guys in the back of the tram. Once out of the tram, we noticed that there were a couple of cars, blocking the track.
At the station we caught a train headed for Klon, (Cologne) Germany. I was surprised when we arrived at Klon to see that its train station was right at the base of the very impressive Dom Cathedral, which was amazing in its size and detail.
To me it seemed a strange situation inside the spectacular cathedral with the hundreds of tourists milling around, while the locals were trying to have their religious experience, but I guess they were used to it.
We climbed the three hundred spiraling steps up the steeple. Just as we approached where the enormous bells hung, they began ringing (not a strong enough word for the intense sound we experienced.). It was so incredibly loud in the bell room.
From the bell area we continued our around and around climb up the narrow steps, until we got to the top level of the steeple. From there, we could look out over the whole city and countryside. Even up at those upper levels, there were religious statues and knick-knacks everywhere, things that no one who just visited the ground floor of the cathedral would see; all quite amazing.
The ground floor of the cathedral was mosaic. The stain glass windows were colorful and very intricate, but most of all, it was the immensity of the Dom Cathedral that struck me.
When we got off the train in Brugge, we again found ourselves not knowing where to go, but eventually we found the “Old Town”. I was impressed at the beauty of the medieval-looking town that at in 12th Century was a major wool trading center. Seeing the ancient buildings was a delight, as we made our way down the narrow cobblestone streets, and stone bridges that crossed the canals and river. Old Town Brugge was unforgettable place, but having become a popular tourist hotspot, it was an expensive place.
I had converted 35 Dutch Guilders into 580 Francs, but that didn’t go very far. After an ice cream cone, several Cokes, my wife’s admission into a cathedral museum and WC (water closet)(bathroom), a chocolate-covered orange slice, and a small quiche for my wife, the Francs were all gone.
We got back on the trains, first back to Brussels, then back to Amsterdam. We were dismayed on our train trip back, to watch a woman with a child, unwilling to move her stroller and other junk out of the aisle to allow other passengers to get to seats or go down the aisle. I guess jerks can be found everywhere.
Our trip into Belgium, visiting Brussels, then Brugge, seemed like a long day. We arrived back to Amsterdam at 6:00 PM, but in that one day, we had gone to another country and back, which seemed an amazing feat for someone who lived in North America.
Then I looked in the empty space where the drawers had sat and discovered it was totally full of plastic bags that we had saved had slipped out of the back of the drawer. (That is them in between the two drawers in the photo.)
The episode just confirmed what I have been thinking for a while: We have to start throwing stuff away, because we have more stuff coming into the house, than is going out, and we are running out of space.
I did pick up that big wad of stuff between the drawers, and threw it all away.. However we still have cabinets all around the house where we have a hard time opening or closing drawers because they are overflowing with foodstuffs, towels, bedding, clothes, etc. I can’t think of a single drawer that is not full to the top with things. We just have too much stuff and we’ve got to make ourselves throw most of it away.
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It is sad to see her hobble around, once I put her down, but usually, she is quick to do her business outside and then she sits down and looks over at me, giving me the signal to come, pick her up, and pack her back inside.
It is always surprising how her instincts take over if she catches a scent or sees a movement outside. She immediately barks and takes off “running”, forgetting all about her disabilities. However, she soon stops when pain begins to kick in, and she sits down and looks back at me, to come, pick her up, and carry her back to the house.
It would be a lot easier on me if Kona was one of those small dogs.
take a look at my paintings: davidmarchant2.ca
The story is set on the coast of North Carolina, around the small town of Barkley Cove. It follows the life of Kya Clark, from her early traumatic childhood, too after her death. Her family was poor and isolated, living in an isolated marsh area close to town. Her father was an abusive alcoholic, who beat her mother and her brothers and sisters to the point where one by one, they left home, abandoning primary school-aged Kya with her father. She quickly learned to avoid him, and spent her time in the surrounding marsh. Eventually her father too disappeared and never returned.
Still a child and considered white-trash by the Barkley Cove community, Kya soon learned to survive on her own. She dug mussels which she sold at the fuel pier store run by kindly “Jumper” and his wife, a black couple who ran the store. She used the small income she made for the meager food supplies and gas for her father’s motor boat, which he had left behind. Kya grew up terribly lonely, and she was once tempted to go to the local school, but only lasted one day, after the verbal harassment and teasing she received from the other students.
The marsh surrounding her house became Kya’s home and the community soon began referring to her as the “Marsh girl”. Living in the marsh gave Kya an intimate view of the wildlife and fauna that also lived there. Kya’s mother, who had painted, had left some art supplies behind, and Kya used them and bought more, to draw and paint the many life forms she found in the marsh. She became a real “Nature girl”.
Early on when she first started using her father’s motorboat, Kya got lost in the swamp, and Tate, a boy slightly older, who had been friends with her brother, guided her back to her house. Tate recognized how desperate, Kya’s situation was and did what he could to help her. Tate, also loved the living things in the marsh and the two young people soon became friends. When he learned that Kya couldn’t read, Tate spent time teaching her, and provided books, many about Nature and science, to her. Kya thrived on the learning and soon almost was as learned at Tate in the natural sciences.
As you might expect as adolescents, the two formed an intimate relationship. Which was broken when Tate had to go to university, promising to come back in the summer. That never happened, leaving Kya once again very alone, and feeling people just couldn’t be relied upon. Her severe loneliness led to another relationship with Chase, a popular and well-off town boy, who took a shine to her. He kept his relationship secret from the community, not wanting to tarnish his reputation by being with the Marsh Girl.
When Chase’s body was found beneath an old fire tower, the first presumed death by accident, soon turned to a possible murder, with Kya being arrested for the murder.
I will go no further, and if you want to find out what happens, you will have to either read the novel, or watch the movie that follows the book very closely.
You can view my paintings at: davidmarchant2.ca
Family Day works out fine for everyone who has a family in BC, but members of our family are spread across North America and Europe, and so we don’t have any family get-togethers on Family Day. Then also, because my wife and I are retired, the Family Day “holiday”, doesn’t feel much like a holiday, because we are always at home, instead of “at work”. The only difference we see is most of the stores are closed.
Anyway, we do appreciate and love our family members, and after thinking about what image I could use for this blog, I decided on my painting: “Reunion”. It is a habit in BC for everyone to take off their shoes when they come into a house. In the summer of 2010, most of my family came up to BC for a visit, and as is the custom, they all took off their shoes and left them inside, by the front door. That became the subject of the painting, which I gave to my mother when it was finished.
Happy Family Day, everyone.
You can view my other paintings at: davidmarchant2.ca
Well guess what, those expensive shots are not 100% effective at preventing shingles, and they can lose their potency after about five years. That was certainly something I didn’t know. The vaccine can be very effective in most people, and should lessen the severity of the infection for those that get shingles again.
Shingles is a painful rash on the skin that later erupts into blisters. Strangely, it only occurs on one side of your body, either on the left side or the right side. If you had chicken pox when you were a kid, even though that malady eventually went away, some of the virus that caused it stays in your body, and can much later erupt and cause shingles.
The red rash can be very painful. Mine isn’t too bad, but the rash is located along my waist, right where my belt is, so the chafing of the belt and my jeans, does cause discomfort when I move. There is no cure if you get shingles, you just have to wait it out for a month or so. I guess you can get some cremes to lessen the pain of the rash. Fortunately, shingles is not contagious.
As kids, we used to joke about how people of my grandparent’s age used to only talk about their ailments. Now as someone in my dotage, I am doing the same thing.
You can take a look at my paintings: davidmarchant2.ca
I found it very interesting to see how the arborists went about removing the big branches, some of which were above our house and an out-building. You probably can’t see them in the photo above, but there are a couple of ropes strung on the limb Chris, the guy in the boom is cutting, and they have been slung over a big branch above it. The guys below are holding the ropes, so that when the branch is cut, they can lower it down slowly so it won’t fall on our old chicken house.
I have always been impressed by The Source, the company that is doing the work, at how thoroughly they clean up after themselves, chipping all the branches, raking up the tiny twigs that have fallen during the work, and leaving our yard cleaner than it was when they started. The ground that was soft from our warm, wet weather, did end up with some muddy area from the tracks of the machine that carried the heavy pieces of wood to a pile, but the muddy tracks were unavoidable, and will heal.
The trunks of the sawed-off willows, look pretty miserable, and with a little imagination, they make our house look like it is surrounded by big cactus plants. Hopefully, in a few years the willow trees will be back creating shade for us in the summer.
The workers did buck up all the big chunks of willow, that I can now split and use for firewood. I should have enough firewood now to keep the house warm for several years. I also have a big pile of wood chips that I can use on the path that goes around the pond.
I am usually kept busy dancing, but last night I sat out a dance to take some photos. Square dancing requires a group of eight people (four couples) for each square. Our group normally has enough people for two squares, but I guess last night was a busy one for the community, because we only had enough dancers for one square.
Square dancing is made up of many “calls” telling the dancers in the square what to do as the music plays. It requires a lot of mental concentration to hear the calls as everyone is moving, then quickly remembering what the call requires you to do, and then doing it. The calls come fast, one after the other, and if one or more people screw up, it effects everyone, and causes a “train wreck” with everyone in the wrong place, confused, and not knowing how to proceed. It is those train wrecks that cause all of the laughing.
As far as physical exercise, square dancing is an enjoyable way to get it. I normally don’t get much exercise during the winter, unless it snows or we have trouble with our water system. My average number of steps per day is 4,200, but the number of steps I get on Thursdays is about 7,200. That increase is due to our two hours of square dancing.
As you might expect, females are always more keen about dancing than males, so in order to make up a square of 4 couples, some of our females have to take the male roles. They wear pants, so they can be identified as the men. The women being women, wear skirts to avoid confusion in the chaos of dancing.
Here are some more photos of the gyrating during a dance last night:
In 2014, when the willows had just gotten too tall, endangering the house if they blew over, I had an arborist crew come and cut them way back. The poor willows looked horrible afterwards, but it didn’t stop them from growing. Now, twelve years later, the sprouts that regrew from the tops of the trees have grown to the point where the trees were just as tall, if not taller, than they were originally, so I called the arborist to come out again to cut the willows down to 10 ft (3 m). That should eliminate the danger to the house.
It is fascinating to watch the arborists do their work high above the ground, in a boom. Others are gathering the falling branches and turning them into chips. They are also bucking up the big chunks so can use them for firewood. Some of the big sections of the trees are so heavy, they have to use a special machine to carry them to be bucked up (photo below);
Again, like the last time the arborists were here, it is hard to watch what is being done to the old willows, but it is something that has to be done. Hopefully in a few years, as they grow new limbs from their tops, we won’t even notice all the amputating that is being done to them now.
The photo below show a “Pollard” tree. Pollarding is a specific way of pruning trees. The upper branches are removed, which causes growth of dense heads of foliage and branches. The practice was started by the Romans, and has been used in Europe since medieval times. It is used to keep trees at a determined height, or to create ornamental trees. It seems like torture for the trees, but they survive and look really interesting.
The photo at the very bottom gives an indication of just how popular bicycles are in Holland.
