Rhododendron canadense

Up until recently the Pines Conservation Park, across the road from my place, was home to just a few sprigs of wild Rhodora (Rhododendron canadense). Last evening Wendy and I paddled along the shores of the park and  discovered that the shoreline is now painted riotously in pinkish shades of Rhodora.

It's gorgeous.

I've been thinking of adding some to my property, and this simply fuels the fire. There are thousands of Rhodora bushes in the woods that line the Jemseg/Oromocto highway. I say it's shovel time. Perhaps that will be my horticultural assignment for today, unless it's windy and my mind turns to the watery blues of the mighty Washademoak.

The Duck Hilton

Just when you think you've got things figured out....

We've had a wood duck in our oak tree for the past few weeks and were hopeful that one day we'd see some wood ducklings. I guess that day has come and gone without any duckling sightings.

I know this because this morning I had two new visitors to the hole in the oak tree. Within seconds of each other I had a merganser and a golden-eye checking out the nesting site.

It's like the Hilton, without the spoiled heiress. One guest checks out, another one tries to book the room.

Which duck will be successful? Stay tuned.

The Energizer Tulips

This must be the year of the everlasting tulip. I suppose it's a sign that the weather has been cold and sunless, but the tulips have been going strong for two weeks now...and they're not done yet.

I never tire of their beauty.

Tommy Emmanuel: The Musical (Wizard)

A friend of mine, let's refer to him as Gary Morris to protect his identity, contacted me the other day to see if I wanted to go to a concert with him. He had a spare ticket. Te concert was for a guy named Tommy Emmanuel.

The name Tommy Emmanuel was familiar to me, though I had never seen or heard him play before. I knew that he was regarded as a finger-style guitar giant.

He was that and more.

To put this in a religious context, I wouldn't dare to say that I just heard Jesus. No, that wouldn't be a wise thing to say. It's more like I just heard God himself. Jimi Hendrix might be Jesus. Or perhaps Johnny Marr. John, Paul, George, and to-a-lesser-extent Ringo, would be the four wise insectuous men. The devil would be Michael Bolton. No! It would be Aaron Neville!!

Note: I know very little about Christianity.

Of course these are ridiculous comparisons because Tommy Emmanuel is just a man, but he plays like a God. I was completely blown away by his talent, and thoroughly captivated by his performance and rapport with the audience. I'd give him a 1000 out of 10, it was that good. Here's a clip from YouTube of a Beatles medley filmed in another locale, but similar to one that he did last evening:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbssCZtyA6s

You must understand that there's nothing quite like a live performance, so keep that in mind. YouTube has its limitations.  If Tommy Emmanuel ever comes back to New Brunswick, I'll be there...and I'll buy you a ticket.

Looks Can Be Deceiving

Your first impression upon seeing this image might be 'did she sit on a cactus'? In fact, me Mootha is not unhappy in this picture. She does have a knack with facial gestures, it should be noted.

So what's happening here since it's been indicated that a stubbed toe, a littl'un head butt, or a dog bite did not elicit this reaction?

Me Mootha's vision is somewhat narrowly focused these days and sometimes when something approaches from an angle other directly in her line of vision, it gives her a surprise. But there's more...

When Hamish (the balding baby doll pictured with Mootha) accidentally slips out of her grasp, she tends to react with shock/horror as though she's dropped a real baby. The same reaction happens when Hamish is lifted into the air by someone (often a grandson) and dropped into Mootha's lap, as was the case in this picture. Sometimes she doesn't notice when Hamish lands with a thud on the floor. When she does notice....well, all I can say is.....

And the Oscar for best animated actress goes to........Dorothy Varty!

Wendy Tattie Bogle

I've chosen this picture because I wanted to reminisce about the old days when we used to see the sun. This picture was taken on May 19, seven days ago. I believe it was the last time that we saw sunlight, though there were a few fleeting rays this morning (now gone).

I'm not sure what Wendy was doing in this image, other than being a goof. She does look like a tattie bogle, in my estimation. Do you know what a tattie bogle is? Here's the definition that I snagged from Wikipedia:

A tattie-bogle (whiles cried a tattie-boodie or craw-bogle) is a device, tradeetionally a human figure dressed in auld claes, or mannequin, that is uised tae discourage birds sic as craws frae disturbin craps.^[1] No anerly dae craws eat the recently cast seed, but they gaither nichtly an aw, stairtin wi groups o a hauf dizzen that then jyn thegither tae form a group o 20 tae 30 an so on till the flock is raither lairge an noisy. It is thair prattick tae return tae the ae place ilka nicht.

Believe it or not, that's what I found on Wikipedia. I have nae doon onything to it.

Mow More Ca. Daffy

For the average 40 to 50 year old male in Cambridge-Narrows, spring and summer mean one thing only...beer! In contrast, fall and winter mean two things to the average 40 to 50 male in Cambridge-Narrows...cold, and cold beer!

For me, spring brings lawn mowing and it is equally relentless throughout the summer. Things peter off in the fall, allowing me to concentrate on work related projects, like windsurfing.

Who's The Prince Of The Scots? Ian vs. Hamish.

Ian and Hamish have a disagreement about who's more Scottish. Unfortunately the debate ends violently, with Hamish delivering a devastating head-butt to Ian.

A Baker's Octet

All Superheroes have their weaknesses. Superman is powerless against Kryptonite. Ben Mulroney is powerless without hair gel and make-up (I'll bet he wears it to bed!). Steve Murphy becomes neutered when in front of a camera. Jayson Baxter becomes a depressive, down-a-pint dolt when he wears a sleeveless Argyle sweater. All CTVesque personalities have weaknesses beyond their inexplicably good viewer ratings.

Personally, I can't say no to baked goods.

Recently Wendy was doing some spring cleaning and  decided to tackle the storage drawer under the oven. Whoever conjured up the idea and/or design for under-stove storage should have their brain audited. It doesn't matter what you're attempting to do when you open the drawer, it always sounds like a five car pile-up.

Wendy discovered ample proof of my weakness to baked goods when she lined up her findings on a nearby table. Here's what she found: mini-muffin tray, muffin-top tray, muffin tray, pop-over tray, giant muffin tray, another giant muffin tray, mini-donut tray, and finally a mini cupcake tray.

And how do you plead, Mr. Varty?

Guilty, your Honour.

The court will now adjourn for a fifteen minute recess with treats supplied by The Happy Baker.

Yay!

Still More Damned Beloved Tulips

Do you get the feeling that there's not much happening here in the Narrows? If you said 'yes', then you'd be wrong. There's a lot going on. I'm pretty much busy 24 hours a day waiting for some warm weather...with none on the horizon.

The cool weather has been a blooming nuisance unless you're a tulip. The tulips are loving the weather and they seem like they might bloom forever. No heat. No wind. No nuthin'. And enough rain to keep them from being well watered. Or lake watered.

More Tulips

I planted some tulips last fall and they've been a spring godsend. I'd like to have another hundred, or more, for next year. That'll be an October project for me.

Raccoon Terrorizes Neighbourhood

This morning I saw a raccoon in our yard, but very close to the neighbour's fence. There's no doubt in my my mind that this rabid beastie was looking for a free meal.

Now, where in the world would a raccoon find something to eat in my neighbourhood?

Let's look at a rabid raccoon's favourite things to eat/raid (not necessarily in order of appreciation):

Compost, bee hives, cheeseburgers, bird seed, Shelties.

Well, it's pretty obvious to see why this little devil was hanging around our place. It's like a veritable smorgasbord for him!

The Mighty Uke

To say that I'm on the cutting edge of anything is akin to saying that Mike Duffy spends the majority of his time in Prince Edward Island. It's laughable.

Occasionally I'm on the cusp of the cutting edge. As a leisurologist or a stay-at-home dad, I'm riding one of the earlier waves. As a ukulele enthusiast, I'm part of a tsunami of global interest, but I'm no Portuguese-Hawaiian first adopter. No one calls me Pedro Polamalu, player of oo-koo-lay-lay.

I'm not timid about being part of this huge musical epidemic. I walk forcefully through the tulips.

Recently, an opera singer-turned-ukulele-player sent Wendy a link to an upcoming uke movie. Here's a link to the trailer for the movie:

http://mightyukemovie.com/files/pages/HDtrailer.html.

Even opera singers are adopting the ukulele. Now that says something! Maybe we, as Canadians, should buy Mike Duffy a ukulele. Or, at the very least, allow him to expense it on his Senate account, while he still has one. Spending six months a year in Prince Edward Island would allow him the luxury of time. Time....to learn the ukulele. Who knows, maybe he'll be spending 12 months a year there in the future? He could get a part-time job at Cows to help pay the bills. He could be milking the stupid tourists, people like me, instead of milking all Canadians.

Herein ends my mini tirade about CTV's Mike Duffy. Next stop...CTV's Senator Pamela Wallin. And you just know if this blog is still going thirty years from now, I'll be harping about CTV's Senator Benjamin Mulroney. It could happen.

Me Mootha And Me Brootha??

In this picture: me Mootha, and me _________?

Hmmm, what is the relationship between my mom and her doll. The doll's name, by the way, is Hamish. It's the most Scottish of Scottish names, followed closely by Angus, Donald and Mohammed.

I like to think that Hamish is mom's baby. That would make Hamish my brother, or me brootha, or eee-brootha. That would also make Hamish Julian's uncle.

Now, if the baby was Julian's, then I'd be a grandfather and mom would be a great grandmootha. It's all very convoluted. All I know is that Mootha loves Hamish and I'm pretty sure that she thinks Hamish is a real baby.

That said, every now and then Mootha shoots me a look that says 'are you trying to pull the wool over my eyes?'.

Rose Hips and Tool Hips

Last autumn I planted about one hundred bulbs, mostly tulips. This is the week that most of them are about to burst open with colour. Thankfully they're an assortment of colours, as I've never been a fan of the all-one-colour-flower beds.

My flowering almond is also on the verge of greatness. It's interesting that all of these plants have timed their fireworks to coincide with the return of Wendy. Thank you Mootha Naycha!

Cambridge-Narrows Condo Development Corp.

There was a flurry of activity across the lake last week. I suspect that it was mostly landscaping and finishing touches on the construction of the Leroy 'cottage'. I pondered the week-long work,  then my imagination got the better of me. I had the ultimate Toronto nightmare...a new condo development blocking my view, except this was Cambridge-Narrows!

What if a condo was being built across the lake in Cambridge-Narrows. How would that look? How would that affect me? How would I feel?

Well, that would depend, I suppose. If it blocked my view it would make me furious. If it had a coffee shop on the ground floor then I would be ecstatic. All I can say is...it better have a coffee shop on the ground floor.

Frog Or Toad?

Is this a frog or a toad? Thinking it was a toad (hallucinogenic tryptamine), I licked it. After a couple of minutes of nothingness, I kissed it. Next thing you know, I'm hanging out with royalty.

Sooooo....does this mean that it's a frog or a toad?

He Bakes, He Skors!

There was a time in my youth when I'd go out with friends on a Friday night, have a few drinks and admire all the girls who I'd never get to meet.

Thirty years later, I'm at home baking cupcakes by myself on a Friday night.

Good things come to those who wait.          

Sprung!

These are a few of my favourite things: magnolia blossoms, tulipes rouge, and PGM rhoddies. The garden is not yet looking lush but there are enough splashes of colour that you just know the show is about to begin.

Got Yer Nose featuring Me Mootha

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UhI-zfEuLXk&feature=youtu.be

Mootha was quite animated yesterday so I decided to shoot some video. You can click on the link above if you care to watch it. I don't think she likes having her nose tweaked...or does she? Bugger!

Here Comes Franklin

Turtles have had a way of appearing in my life for about forty years now. When I was little I had a pet turtle that came from a pet store. In the wilds, turtles can live for decades. Mine died quickly and we flushed him down the toilet. Vivid, traumatic memories.

My mother, bless her heart, found another way to entertain me with turtles, as in 'Mmmmm, I love TURTLES'. You know the ones, they're a delicious combination of chocolate, caramel, pecans, modified palm oil, lactose, battery acid, ground up turtle shell, and ear wax. Add enough glucose and....Mmmmm, I love TURTLES!™

When Julian was little we had two encounters with turtles. One time we found a turtle attempting to cross the rod along the Lower Jemseg flats. We worried about the turtle safely making it across the road, so we escorted him. This PETA-worthy act was carried out with great pageantry and back slapping (slapping my own back). I was hoping that Juilian would see me as a caring, conscientious animal lover, thus negating the bad press I received as a Bambi slayer.

The second turtle encounter with Julian involved a kid's cartoon/book based on the life of a turtle-like character called Franklin. I don't remember what Franklin did in the cartoon, but one can only assume that he wore a baseball hat that somehow didn't get knocked off when he retracted his head into his shell. I think he played baseball with some friends, many of whom were vermin. There was also a theme song to this show, which Julian later 'borrowed' to sing about two golden retrievers. If I grew two heads, took LSD and had mind bending hallucinations, I couldn't imagine anything more outrageous than Franklin.

Yesterday I was driving to the Gagetown ferry when I saw something on the road ahead. Same location...turtle alley, just past Andrew and Nancy's place. I'll bet it was the same turtle that Julian and I encountered 17 years earlier. He more or less looked at me with a 'you again?' expression on his face. I didn't help him across the road this time as I'm not sure that he was looking to cross it. I thinking he was waiting for a ride somewhere, likely to a baseball game. 

He was a handsome creature: striped, painted, shelled. I was happy to see him because....

Mmmmm, I love TURTLES!™

Hood n' Houses

The Leroy House (2013)

The Aune House (2012)

 As I peer across the lake every morning, I see the three houses pictured. Two were built within the last year, and one was built almost two hundred years ago.

The most interesting fact about these houses is that they're all occupied by descendants of the 1816 Robinson family house and they all sit on Robinson family land.

There's something nice about continuity and family heritage. I'm not saying that I'm going to move to Blackhill, or become the Lord of Fyvie Castle, or put a bid in on Brighton Court. I'm very happy with my lot in life. At about an acre, it's just the right size.

I wonder if Julian will one day want our property or if Wendy and I should eventually sell it and buy a spaceship or something intergalactic. We could pull a Major Tom and blast off into the ether.

I was watching aVH-1 Legends biography of David Bowie last night.

The Robinson House (1816)

That should explain my proposed space odyssey.

Remington Steel Magnolias

They say 'good things come to those who wait'. I'll bet that saying is popular with lethargic people, food servers, TTC customers, and magnolia growers!

At least ten years ago, when I was but a boy in my thirties, I planted a magnolia tree that my parents gave to me. For a decade or more, it's been a lovely shrub. Or is it a bush? Or a tree? It's been a nice looking stick with green things on it, but no flowers. None. Zippo. Zilch.

Until 2013.

This year my magnolia is blossoming happily. It's a limited run of blossoms, perhaps thirty, but what a treat. The blossoms are just starting so I've only illustrated a single one. I'll update this blog posting once the entire blooming tree is flowering. They smell good too, like a southern belle.

What exactly does a southern belle smell like, Ian? Have you ever had an olfactory encounter with a southern bell? Were you not worried her Remington pump-action daddy would shoot you? Or worse....like live in the Bible Belt?

Okay, okay...they, the magnolia blossoms, smell pleasant and, no, I've never been to Georgia. I have been to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, and it smelled like bad country music, ragged dollar bills and tired sidewalks. I've put South Carolina out of my mind, unlike Georgia.

Sometimes when I write one of my blog posts, I feel compelled to do some inane research. Today's topic: steel magnolias. There was a movie by the same name, and I wondered what it meant. Here's what my exhaustive research returned:

If you are called a "steel magnolia" by someone, take it as a compliment. It is a Southern term that means a woman who is tough, strong, yet sweet and feminine. She has the toughness and strength of steel when it comes to family, hard times, and sad times. However, she has the loving tenderness and inner beauty that shines through.


I'm trying to think if I know anyone who qualifies as a steel magnolia. I do know someone who is a steel haggis. She's as gentle as a bouquet of heather blossoms, but when times are tough she's as strong as an Edinburgh rock.

A Test Of The Emergency Broadcast System

I've heard stories of how municipalities and/or businesses have used opera music to rid an area of dubious characters. Though we have ample operatic 'firepower' in our arsenal, rock n' roll is more our style. 

Remember...this was just a test. 

Pillow Talk: Two Heads Are Better Than One

Recently I was shopping at Sears for a new pillow for my bed. Luckily I found one, but while I was shopping I did pause for a thought-filled fantasy moment. I thought to myself 'boy, it sure would be difficult to find a pillow if I had two heads'. Then I went back to testing one head pillows.

Lo and behold, what shows up on Kijiji but a bedspread (beadspread) which includes a two head pillow. I'd tell the Siamese twins down the Lower Cambridge Road about it, but, if I remember correctly, they moved back to Minto and I haven't got their number anymore.

You Call That Gusty??

I'm thinking about going for a windsurf because it's windy. The Fredericton forecast shows northeast winds gusting from 21 to 65 km/h. This could be awkward.

What should I rig?