Weekend Photos

We had company this weekend: Cuppa's sister and husband. We took a ride out to Wheeler's Pancake House and Sugar Camp at McDonald's Corners (see on map in new window — zoom in and out as desired). We've been there before, more than once, but it's a nice place to take visitors. It was a pleasant drive followed by a fine breakfast in a wonderfully crafted building.

There's a neat, little museum on the property. Since Cuppa is still nursing a sprained ankle, she sat placidly on the porch under the flowerpot while the three of us poked our noses hither and thither. Below Cuppa's picture is a photogenic shed (if that's possible for a building) that I've also captured previously (in this post).





Afterwards we drove our visitors about. One stop was here at the old Sawyer's House in Heron Mills (mapped here).



BIL is quite a shutterbug and has a wonderful new camera, so we next stopped at Almonte where he snapped away to his heart's content. But this photo is mine, taken on Cuppa's little camera. Of course, I did the usual post-processing.



Of course, we did pay our respects to The Smudge. This is a recent photo taken by Mom of the wee princess wrapped in her froggy towel.



Update: After posting this blog, I decided to add this photo of my SIL walking towards that old, long abandoned house.

A Wolfman No More

I was recently disheartened to read Tossing Pebbles in the Stream's post entitled Living with the Animals. His rural neighbour had shot two wolves of the dozen or so that were in his backyard on the previous night. According to the neighbour, "Wolves are vermin," and they eat livestock. Although he didn't have any livestock, anti-wolf feelings apparently still run high in rural regions, and this guy used his trusty gun even though it was illegal for him to do so.

Several years ago, I read Barbara Kingsolver's, A Prodigal Summer, a novel that I liked a whole lot. The themes were environmental in nature, and in one of the main plot lines, a ecologically-minded forestry lady attempts to disabuse her lover, a western rancher, of his views about evil wolves. Of course, she was unable. Old views die hard after all, no matter how uninformed they may be.

As distasteful as the above account may be to most, it does provide me with a segway into the humourous anecdote below. I don't know if I can actually relate it in a funny way: probably not, but I can tell you what happened, and perhaps it will raise a chuckle.

First, you need to know that about six years ago, I owned several T-shirts with wolves emblazoned on the front. I'd been quite taken with the critters since I had seen Never Cry Wolf many years previous. It so happened that I was wearing one of these wolf shirts when I entered a shop in a New England village while visiting a friend in New Hampshire. The three of us, me, Cuppa, and our kind host, ambled around the store for a bit, but when we were about to leave, I was asked perhaps the oddest question of my life.

The curious saleslady asked, and I kid you not: "Oh, I love wolves. Do you have one?" Really! That's what she said!

What does one say in reply to such a question? In rather stunned monotone I mumbled something like, "No, this shirt is just a souvenir of our trip out west last summer."

As the three of us puzzled and giggled over the incident in the aftermath, in great mirth I asked our host if keeping wolves as pets was common in New England. Cuppa opined that I should have said that I had several back home. I thought that I should have replied that the wolves on the T-shirt were actually a picture of my mom and dad.

Oh the clever things that I could have said and should have said, but I had been too flabbergasted at the time to think of any sort of witty reply. Besides, I was a touring Canadian and wanted to be nice and respectful to the locals and also to represent my fellow countryman well. And who knows? Maybe she did keep wolves as pets. I dunno; maybe she even ran with them at night.

I hereby thank the lady, however, for we have howled over the incident many times since. Not only that but it now turns out that she has unwittingly supplied me with that ever so precious commodity — blog fodder. Nevertheless, I now wear very plain and unremarkable T-shirts.

Fumble-Fingered Grampa

The Smudge and I enjoyed (and I use the word loosely) a milestone hour and a half last night. Yes, Grandma and Mom went out for a book club meeting and left Grampa to babysit. It was time for the old guy to step up to the plate because Dad was also busy elsewhere.

Grampa managed to change her diaper but didn't do so well with an article of clothing called a Onesie. He managed, with some difficulty, to remove the wet garment from the baby's body, but he wasn't able to get the clean one on. That's right, his best effort resulted in getting said Onesie stuck over her face. Therefore, seeing that the Wee Smudge really detests having her face covered and that she wasn't in the finest of humours to begin with, Grampa decided let her go topless until the ladies got home. It was hot enough anyway, so it seemed like a prudent decision.

However, it wasn't very nice for two distinguised ladies to laugh at a poor, old, five-thumbed grampa's pathetic attempts like they did when they got home after their pleasant evening out. Smudge certainly wasn't laughing about it. Most certainly not! Nor was I.

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In any event, Mom took this pic not long ago, and I helped her convert it to black and white. She may put it together with a cast of the wee Smudge's feet that she had done this week. She's to provide the printed photo, and the footprint people will frame it together with the castings.

A Shout and a Giggle

It was almost six o'clock in the morning and all was still ... until I hear my beloved crying out my name: faintly and from some distance.

She sprained her foot this past weekend when she stepped off of deck sooner than had anticipated. It's quite bruised, and she's not very mobile to put it mildly, and when I heard her call, I thought she desperately needed my help. So, I yelled, "Hello!!" You see, I was shouting to let her know that I had heard her and would soon be there to assist her in her moment of need. Her need must have been on my mind, for I have been called to assist my fallen lady twice this summer: once after a fall from her bicycle and then again this past weekend.

Except I had shouted rather loudly right into a sleeping woman's ear. To say the very least, she awoke quite startled, and her exclamations of panicked protest cause me to follow suit. Of course, I had either been dreaming or heard something else through the open window that I had misinterpreted. I don't know which.

We enjoyed a good giggle over that, and the cat enjoyed receiving his morning tuna somewhat earlier than usual. And then we went back to sleep.

I Like. You Like?

This past weekend took us three hours east to visit Cuppa's brother and his wife. They have an incredible house in an incredible spot, nicely nestled in the woods. The photo below is taken right from the deck where we sat for many a pleasant hour. Below that is the same photo after applying a certain amount of artistic license.





On Saturday we drove to Whetung on the Curve Lake Reserve. Cuppa and I had been there several times, but neither BIL not SIL had discovered the place yet. The girls were happy after purchasing some bling. Or do beaded necklaces classify as bling? They're neither shiny nor bejeweled after all. But they like and I like. You like?

Not Quite ...

... Maybe This Weekend

The kid came over yesterday and had us all on the edge of our seats. You see, she came very close to rolling over. Her hips certainly came around but the shoulder resisted. It was pretty funny really — three adults all on the edge of their seats over so ordinary an event. I took some pictures like the one below and then switched to video mode along with Thesha (scroll down for clip). There we were with two cameras rolling hoping to catch that historic moment. Alas, it was not to be. Not today. I wonder if it will happen this weekend when we are away. Whatever transpires, we certainly had a grand time today — on her three month birthday.

Have a good weekend folks.

Happy Birthday

Time flies! The baby is three months old today.



She has different habits than most. Typically, she'll go to bed around midnight, get up once for sustenance and then sleep until almost noon. Once she gets up, however, she's up for almost the whole day. Oh, she'll take the occasional cat nap, especially if she's being held, and almost never if she isn't, or if, heaven forbid, you should dare to put her down if a miracle has transpired and she has fallen asleep in the arms of a loved one, like ...



But she's awake for most the day and jabbers a lot, some of which is captured on the video clip below. She's a vocal one for sure. If she's not happy, she let's us and the neighbourhood know in no uncertain terms. Yes, she has a most powerful set of lungs. But she smiles a lot and has even begun to laugh. I heard one first-hand yesterday for the first time; it was about three syllables long. I wanted more and went through various ridiculous contortions to obtain one, but alas ...

So Happy Birthday, Little Smudge. You can celebrate with a wee dram of .... milk. Lucky you.