Snow, Fall

     My old body is feeling pretty stiff this morning.   It is because of what happened at 3:00 last night. 

    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.

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Germany's Magnificent Dom Cathedral, 1996

      The very next day we  got up at 6:00, packed our bags began our excursion to explored the rest of Europe, beginning with Germany.   With our packs on our backs, we labored through Amsterdam’s very empty streets to the tram stop.  There we waited and waited, finally realizing that the next tram was not scheduled to stop for another 30 minutes, so we decided to find another stop closer to downtown, where the trams were more frequent.  There we we joined a couple from India who were also waiting for a tram.  They needed to catch a plane, and the man was very worried about missing the flight, but his wife wouldn’t let him hire a cab.  When a tram finally arrived, we all relaxed.

    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.

Have a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

Our 1996 Visit to Brugge

  After St. Micheal’s Cathedral in Brussels, we made our way back to the Central Station, and ate a depressing lunch down in the dreary underground area, waiting for a train to take us to the medieval city of Brugge.

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.

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Hoarding: No Room For Anything Anymore

     I was up in my office writing up a cheque to pay for our willow tree trimming, when my wife called out to me and ask me to come down to the kitchen.  I went down to see what the trouble was and discovered that she couldn’t pull out one of the counter drawers to get some tin foil, because the drawer was stuck in the cabinet.  I unhooked and removed the drawer of spices above it, then unhooked the drawer of plastic bags where the roll of tin foil s was supposed to be.  

    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.

View my paintings: davidmarchant2.ca

I Sometimes Wish Kona Was A Small Dog

     As I age, I can tell that I am losing a lot of the strength that I used to have.  That especially becomes evident now that Kona’s bad hips are getting worse, and she is having a very difficult time getting around.  I now have to carry her a lot.  Most of the time it is just carrying her from room to room, but of course, several times a day I need to carry her outside.  

    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

Where The Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens

 

        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

Today Is BC's Family Day Holiday

     It had long been recognized that there was a need for an official holiday in BC, to help everyone get through the long stretch winter between New Years and Easter.  In 2013, the provincial government came up with the “Family Day” holiday for BC to recognize the importance of family to everyone.  

    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