The Sunday Morning Service (hint: not involving church)

"That looks like pancake perfection" announced Julian as he slid his pancake onto his plate.

I had to agree. It looked as though I had created yet another Sunday morning winner. Slow cooked in creamy butter, and fluffier than a dryer kitten, this flapjack only needed real maple syrup to reach nirvana state.

Needless to say, the condensed nectar of the mighty acer saccharum was liberally applied. This has become a Sunday morning ritual.

Could today get any better?

Can Killer Tomatoes Be Far Off?

Another double exposure. The MacMann's cottage is surrounded by Bishop's Weed on one side, but it takes on an ivy-like quality in this image.

PPG: Powered Para-Gliders

Last week I saw someone flying high above Cambridge-Narrows in a powered para-glider. It's intriguing looking. I'll never do it because I can't imagine having a 60 pound backpack crushing my paper-maché spine, but I love the idea of flying one of these contraptions. Amazingly I know three people who own them: one is talented, one is crazy and talented, and the other is a good badminton player.

More Exposure From The Cambridge-Narrows Roads Scholar

All three of these double exposures feature the Cambridge-Narrows highway as a background image. Works well, I'd say.

My first example, in today's blog, uses a field of hawkweed. The middle image incorporates a pine branch, and the last image is of Doug Phillips' driveway planter.

Double Trouble

When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. Good advice. When life gives you bad neighbours, you have to do something about them one way or the other. There's no point sitting on the fence...haha.

I've chosen humour, and in that vein I had a little fun with my neighbour's
'No Trespassing' sign. In essence, I trespassed without trespassing.

It's a double exposure. One image is of me walking on the MacMann's lawn, the other is of the miserable-ugly-unnecessary-and-tacky sign. They work well together as a composite image, I'd say.

Getting More Exposure For My Photographs

Here's a few multiple exposure images that I took yesterday, in my yard and on my walk.

Don't Talk W. Your Mouth Full feat. Bird

There's a good argument for keeping a bird feeder going in the wintertime. Food is scarce and the birds benefit from a bountiful buffet.

Not so for a summer bird feeder. There is an abundance of summer food (see image) for the birds, so no need to feed them. You could argue that you're doing it for the birds in the wintertime, but in the summer you're only doing it for yourself, not that there's anything wrong with being a tad selfish.

In this image, our feathered friend has a caterpillar and a mayfly in her beak. She's gathering groceries for the kiddies, otherwise she would have been eating the insects one at a time herself. Imagine the excitement when Mom brings back all these delicacies to the nest. It's kind of like when Wendy brings a big block of Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese from Italy and Julian gets all exci............ Okay, bad analogy. In any event, those insects look delicious.

Tweety On Crystal Meth

Imagine taking a gold finch, cardinal and a blue jay, then asking them to pose on a power-line together. Cars would stop. Even Joseph and his Technicolor Raincoat, riding a Vespa with Toucan Sam in a sidecar, would stop and take photographs. That's saying something.

Doves would cry, willows would weep, and the mousy brown song sparrow would sing love songs to the gold finch....

You...are...so beautiful....to me.

Can you imagine if gold finches were the size of eagles? That would be awesome, and then some! It seems like all big birds are really boring in terms of colour, with a few exceptions: flamingos, a few parrots and, of course, Big Bird.





Imagine...in a parallel universe.....

Poppy Art

Gawd, I love poppies.

Iris Carrington Was A Bitch

I'm not afraid to admit that when I was an adolescent (the idiotic transitional period taking me from being an idiot boy to an idiot man), I used to watch the soap operas with Mom. We watched two soaps: Another World and General Hospital.

Another World had a memorable cast of characters. Iris Carrington, spoiled daughter of rich publisher Mac Cory, was a conniving bitch. Mom and I used to love to hate her. Iris may have been the reason that Mom subsequently became fascinated by money, and all that it could do.

The only iris in my life, blindly speaking, are the ones that I find in my garden. They're currently in full bloom and looking almost orchid-like. Ah, my little orchid. So there have been three soaps in my life!

Thankfully I've managed to wash myself clean of all soap residue (and television) so I spend my free time muck-raking in my garden, not somebody else's. Life is good.

Interracial Cohabitative Lesbian Ducks.....I Think.

 I suppose the title of my blog says it all (and then some!), but allow me to elaborate.

Earlier this spring we had a male and female wood deck nesting in our oak tree. The day they left, two other ducks showed up and applied to rent the nesting site. One was a female golden-eye and the other was a female merganser.

It's not unusual for ducks to compete  for nesting sites, not at all. It's just like Torontonians competing for

condos. What is odd is that I see these two ducks almost daily, yet I've never seen a male duck with either of them.

Now, I've never been one to jump to conclusions (lesbian ducks!), but this situation is unusual. We have had lesbian ducks in the past but they were of the same species. Now we have an interracial couple. How cool is that?

But seriously folks....I assume that the golden-eye is nesting in the tree and the merganser is patiently waiting for the nest to become available. They both seem like good tenants. As the landlord of the oak tree, I've done exhaustive background checks on both of them and everything looks legitimate. Curiously, they both list Provincetown (Cape Cod) as their home town.

Hmmm.

I Want A Coffee. I Want A Coffee.

It's not unusual to be on the receiving end of a dismissive comment from a friend, family member, or colleague.

BUT...

How many people can say that they've been dissed by a ninety-something, prune-fried, Xerox-mouthed apple head doll?

Julian can.

Recently Julian was admonished by a ninety-something year old for not properly taking her sippy cup which she thinks is filled with coffee. It is, in fact, filled with either Ensure or arsenic, neither of which appears to have any effect.

Thankfully Julian didn't take the diss personally. Thankfully Julian didn't take the diss personally.

Pileated Woodpeckers Are Saving Me A Fortune

My 'pet' pileated woodpecker shows up every two or three days. I think he likes our property because I keep a number of dead trees standing, rather than cutting them down.

Of course, feeding the woodpeckers is not the justification for not hiring someone with a chainsaw.

Wait! What's that noise? Is it the sound of a pileated woodpecker tapping on a tree? No...it's just the sound of bagpipes.

Wagon Wheel

Every now and then the gods conspire to bring something unimportant to importance. Sometimes when it rains, it pours.

Within a 24 hour span, the words 'wagon wheel' were mentioned three times in completely different contexts.

On Saturday afternoon, at Pine Grove, the band providing entertainment introduced the song Wagon Wheel as the best song Bob Dylan never wrote. On Sunday afternoon, Wendy mentioned the words 'wagon wheel' out of the blue. And the third wagon wheel reference was in Saturday's cryptic crossword puzzle from the Globe & Mail. Here's the cryptic crossword clue....

Clue: With Ang Lee, who arranged support for a coach (5,5).

Answer: Wagon wheel.

Don't ask. For that matter, don't ask about the picture that I borrowed for this blog. Clearly the naive boy has cracked his wagon wheel. Maybe he's going to offer half to the toadstool helmeted, Goth zombie stalker behind him. Maybe he doesn't even know she's there, and she's going to eat his brain and have the wagon wheel for dessert.

I used to eat Wagon Wheels as a child. Not regularly, mind you, but enough to cause some mild retardation. I surrender this blog as proof.

Uncle Brent's Cabin

Our friend Brent, picture here, had a stroke a year and a half ago at the age of 38. He's now 40 and on the unpaved driveway to recovery. For the months of June and July he's living next door to us and we're enjoying his company.

Brent owns a small, rustic cabin about twenty minutes away from our place. The stroke has left him with some left side mobility issues, so living in his cabin this year is not a reasonable option.

I took Brent up to his cabin the other day. He hadn't seen it since his stroke. I think he may have been washed by a wave of nostalgia during his visit. There's no doubt that he experienced a sense of 'what was' but I believe that he also felt 'what will be'. The cabin represents the future and it's something to work towards. It's a step in the right direction...literally.

Brent is a director, so who better to guide those steps?

Planting Perennials...An Annual Event

Some people steal from others to fuel their cocaine habit. Some people beg on the streets to get money to buy their next swig of alcohol.

Hello, my name is Ian Varty and I have a gardening problem.

On the upside, Wendy earns an exceptional wage so I don't need to beg, borrow or steal to top up my topsoil or conspire to acquire spirea.

Quite frankly, there is no downside to my gardening habit other than dirty finger nails.

In the image provided, you can see my latest gardening project. I'm in the process of transforming a section of the eastern Varty compound, along the fence line, into a colourful shrub border. It should do two things for the property:

1) look gorgeous
2) provide more privacy for, and from, the neighbours. It's a win-win scenario.

It will take time. I suspect two to three years will be needed for this area to fill in, but I've got the time as far as I know. I ain't goin' nowhere.

Ooops, I just noticed that the small arrow in the centre of my image doesn't have a name attached to it. I've planted a dwarf Korean lilac there. It will be lilac coloured, while the other larger lilacs are going to be white, I think. There was some confusion on the labels that came with them. The wiegielia and the rhododendron will have reddish blossoms. Note: spell check doesn't like the word 'wiegielia'. It's suggesting that I use the word 'wiggle' instead. So......next year I may have red flowering wiggles. Behold!

Behold indeed. The entire experience of gardening is extremely satisfying. Perhaps my years at NSAC were not for naught. Maybe I have a green thumb after all...and brown fingernails.

Lupinus Minimus

When Wendy, Julian and I moved to Cambridge-Narrows in 1992, we quickly became aware of the abundance of flowering June lupines. The arrival of the lupines was a seasonal milestone: like ducks finding the first open water, like leaf buds bursting with green, like the Presleys returning to disGraceland with a tacky new collection of MIC Americana lawn ornaments.

But just as the plastic palm tree fronds fade over time, so have the lupines lessened. Gone are the fields of glorious lupines, overgrown with lush grasses. We still have lupines in our fields and ditches, but they are no longer the aurora borealis of spring. I'm hoping that this is merely a cyclical phenomenon.

Perhaps it's part of god's agronomic action plan. I'm sorry....I meant to say Stephen Harper's Economic Action Plan. Perhaps it's part of King Stephen's plan to rid Canada of anything not economically viable. Let's rid the countryside of these showy lupines and replace them with cow-loving grasses that will feed our countries cattle, then provide valuable protein for Ottawa's obese felines.

Wow. Where did that come from?

Bottom line: flowers good, Harper bad.

A Day In The Life Of The Donna Del Lago

Imagine having a successful and satisfying career. Imagine having another successful and satisfying career. Imagine traveling the world. Imagine living in a glorious place (at least part-time). Imagine having great friends (some restrictions apply). Imagine having a wonderful husband (some restrictions apply). Imagine having a very nice family (some restrictions apply).

That's Wendy.

Yesterday Wendy ziggy-zagged off to Milan to work with a professional opera singer at La Scala, then she'll spend three weeks in Sulmona, Italy (2850 km away from Mesopotamia) teaching voice to some of Canada's rising operatic moons, planets and (hopefully) stars. It's all very Bowie meets the B52s meets Betty Blackhead. It's global, it's cool, and no restrictions apply.

Well done, I'd say.

More Dece Than Reese

Are you looking for a cookie/dessert idea that's completely over the top? Well, we we've found it. As you know, I have an international baked good affliction. Recently, while on Mount Desert Island (soon to be renamed Mount Dessert Island), I, along with my culinary sidekicks Wendy and Julian, discovered a new C.L.O. (cookie like object). It was a peanut butter cup peanut butter cookie.

It didn't have an inventive name so I may call it the PBC-squared (PBC²). It was ridiculously delicious and something that we thought we could make at home, so we did.

In essence you make a giant peanut butter cookie, then while it's still warm and malleable you smush it into a muffin tin, then place a frozen Reese's peanut butter cup in the base, then pour extra melted chocolate over the peanut butter cup. Et voila!

Warning: these should not be eaten any further than 5km from a hospital with a cardiologist at the ready.

Rhododendron Season Is Upon Us

Here's an image of one of my rhododendrons. I only wish that it would bloom for the entire summer but, alas, it is a fleeting flavour.

Yesterday we visited Freeman's place and took in a spectacle of 500 azaleas and 200 rhododendrons. It was like being in a candy shop, except much sweeter.

Aesthetics matter and I'm beginning to act on that knowledge. I'll still dress like a bum, but my garden will get better looking every year.

Nielsen Family Party: Spring 2013 Edition

"All they do is party."

I'm afraid that I have to attribute this quote to....me. The Nielsen family does an admirable job of getting together a few times a year for family parties. Yesterday everyone gathered at our place.

Wendy, as always, delivered a delicious meal with side salads from the sisters-in-law. It's a recipe that has been proven to work.

Not that there ever needs to be an 'excuse' for a party, but yesterday's fete was attributed to Paul's 77th birthday and Linda's 73rd. Much merriment was had. The highlight for me was the baseball game in the Pines, or perhaps Chantal's hilarious story of being fined for parking in a handicapped parking spot (at Tim Horton's).

Wait, shouldn't ever parking spot at Tim Horton's be considered handicapped? Think 'mentally'.

Anyways, Chantal was practically hysterical with laughter as she shared her story. Joan told her tale of doing 77km/h on Bishop Drive and narrowly avoiding a speeding ticket. Erik told of his vigilante-like behaviour on King Street while confronting a dangerous (idiot) driver, while Peter Parker Pinsler stood curbside trying to control his sense-tingling Eriknaphobia. It seemed like everyone had a story to tell, though we only heard a few.

This family has a lot of potential for normalcy, and I think there will be revelations revealed in the future. Thankfully I have a comfortable back seat as we drive clockwise through life's traffic circles, laughing healthily at ourselves.

Bubble Rock

There are a few rocks out there that seem to captivate the imagination of the public. Australia has Ayers Rock. The Mediterranean has the Rock of Gibraltar. America has Plymouth Rock and the ring Richard Burton gave to Liz Taylor. Acadia National Park has Bubble Rock.

Bubble Rock would hardly be given a second look if it wasn't perched precariously on top of an 800 foot hill. It seems very out of place, reputedly put there by a glacier (note: there are no witnesses).

Of all the many things I love about Acadia National Park in Maine, the rocks are as appealing as anything else. Don't believe me? I assure you that this is not a stone-faced lie. I mean it. The rocks are beautiful.

The 15 Minute Workout: Fonda That!

Jane Fonda be damned. Julian and I found a much better 15 minute workout than anything Ms.Fonda ever offered. Here's how it happened...

Julian and I decided to hike up Beehive with Wendy opting for a walk on Sand Beach instead. Julian said to Wendy 'how long do you think it will take us to hike up Beehive'?

Wendy said 'thirty minutes'.

Thirty minutes seemed reasonable, but we knew we could do it faster. Starting from the trailhead marker by the Park Loop Road, the 'boy' and I were able to reach the summit of Beehive (520 ft) in exactly 15 minutes. Our hearts were racing as we sprinted up the hill. The ladder sections have to be taken carefully so we'd be hard pressed to do it in less time. It was very satisfying for both Julian and me. I suspect we'll try it again next time we visit. Maybe we could shave one minute off our time. Maybe. I'll be at least 50 before we make it back to Acadia National Park, so perhaps I'll be a minute slower. Ha! Not likely. 

Hiking With 'The Kids'

Hiking up or around mountains peaks can be a dangerous business, one which I take very seriously.
This video was taken on the summit of Cadillac Mountain on Mount Desert Island. It's the tallest mountain on the eastern seaboard north of Rio, or so they say.

The Trailer Park Boy

Julian and Bubbles?

Here's an image of Julian standing atop the North Bubble, overlooking Jordan Pond (home of the delicious popovers which we didn't buy because they're too expensive).

After hiking the North Bubble, we crossed a small valley and then summited South Bubble. South Bubble is home to Bubble Rock (a glacial eratic).

The entire hike was Bubblicious. Our two days here on Mount Desert Island were just maaaaarrrrrrvelous.

Oh...Bee Hive!

I've seen a number of different bee hives on Mount Desert Island over the years but none more impressive than the one that overlooks Sand Beach. It's a small rocky outcropping of a hill that provides a thrilling hike. It has ladders, cliffs and there's always just a hint of danger. We didn't hike it yesterday, instead we chose a gentler hike on the Great Head trail which provided us with this excellent vantage point of the beach and the hive.

It's so great to be back here. The air is delicious and the rocks rock. I never take them for granite, though they are.

Har Barbor 2013

I'll bet you dollars to donuts that we'll be visiting the Colonel's Bakery in Northeast Harbor this week (if we have any money).

This historical image was from 2009. I suspect that donut did not last long, even under the watchful eye of me Mootha.

Thunderstorms And God Swill

Wendy and I were playing cards yesterday afternoon when we noticed the sky darkening. Within two minutes it was clear that a doozy of a thunderstorm was about to hit. Remembering that I had opened a few windows in the MacMann cottage, I hurried up there to shut everything.

Good timing. The skies opened up and a wild amount of rain and wind whipped the neighbourhood. I watched it unfold from the MacMann's back porch. I've never seen more rain fall in five minutes in Cambridge-Narrows. I could have

almost kayaked down the driveway. A large maple fell in the MacMann woods. Our lawn temporarily flooded.

The pictures don't do our mini-storm justice because they were taken after the fact, but you do get a sense for why I labeled this storm a Class 4 doozy. Mind you, this isn't the U.S. mid-west. It could have been much worse..or better, depending upon how you view it. It could have carried 'Toto Beers' off to Kansas. Wishful thinking.

Kayak Klown

There's Something About Mary. That's a movie.

There's Something About Wendy (in a kayak). That's a reality.

It seems that every time Wendy gets in a kayak, she becomes...hmmmm, how to phrase this eloquently? Goofy!

Perhaps kayaking is the ultimate antidote to a stressful career as an opera singer. Perhaps one is not truly free until sitting in a boat that is four inches above the water and constantly threatening to spin 180 degrees (vertically, I might add).

Or, perhaps Wendy is just a goof. Lord knows, she lives with an inspirational role model.

Well, I'd love to write more but I have to go bake some Skittle infused raspberry-rhubarb  muffins in my Easy Bake oven. Kidding! I'm goofy too, but not a freak.