CITY LIFE/COUNTRY LIFE, OLD COVERED BRIDGE AND BATS

          I woke up this morning; like most mornings, this is a good thing.  At my age, since I've already survived longer than my father (died, age 66) and closing in on my mother (died, age 72) it feels wonderful to wake up, especially on a day like today after the harsh winter has finally hit the road.  Before I climbed out of the warm bed and opened my eyes, I listened to the cheerful sounds of birds outside our bedroom window.  I've taken so much for granted over the years and my busyness of chasing my goals was so overwhelming, I believe I lost touch with myself and my natural surroundings.  Most of my life, although pretty much living, what most people would consider a free man in this world, was spent mostly in major cities encompassed, ensnared, enclosed by cement, steel and glass; like a canary, I whistled a happy tune within my cage - the music of honking horns, blaring sirens, roaring jets for a background.  My feet have trod many a mile down countless paved streets, along rusty railroad tracks, shady wilderness trails, pebbly beaches and the open tundra.  As much as I enjoyed the big city life: earning the big bucks, knocking back gallons of beer, dancing my feet off in cabarets, stuffing my guts in fine restaurants, exploring quiet art galleries and libraries, attending live plays and blaring loud concerts, I have to say the peacefulness of a countryside far outweighs the enjoyment I've ever experienced in the hustle-bustle of a city.  And it's not because I'm old and I've slowed down either, because the journey I've taken thus far, spent mostly in a city, I've always caught glimpses of the country life style.
          Work in the city was much different than here at Golden Unicorn Farm near the base of Green Mountain.  In the city, I lived by my wits and artistic talents; the heaviest tools I wielded were pencils, pens and brushes, unlike here; hammers, shovels and pitch forks are my tools of choice.  Instead of creating objets d'art, I'm now erecting fences, building barns, digging gardens and soon to be tending livestock.  There are of course rewards in both lifestyles and although I work physically harder here, I'm achy and stiff, I much prefer watching a flower or a veggie poke its little head out of the earth - somehow to me, it seems more meaningful.  However, don't get me wrong, I'm still attached to the city in a huge way - I mean here I sit, my fingers doing a tap dance on a computer keyboard and all the modcoms to make life easier still surround me.  Oh yeah, I'm still plugged in like a lot of other robots - can't wait to see what's happening on FaceBook, gotta check my email accounts and tune in to my Blog - oh Twitter Dee and Twitter Duh!

 World's Longest Covered Bridge - Hartland, NB

 
          Yesterday,  my wife Sarah, her daughter Jessica and I went to Hartland to take in their annual trade show.  After leaving Woodstock, we took the scenic route along the river until we came to the world's largest covered bridge, which is 1,282' (391m) long and built in 1901.  I'd been to quite a few trade shows before but they all took place back in Nanaimo, BC.  Although Nanaimo is a much larger place than Hartland, the turnout in Hartland was better - I was really surprised to see so many people wandering through the building and out amongst the farm machinery and vehicles.         
          Gosh, it feels like summer today; the sky is so blue and the temperature is so warm - it's definitely not the Fosterville day I've been used to the past several months.  Walked up and over Green Mountain this morning (a heart-thumper) to visit my friends George and Margaret and they offered us a large raspberry patch, so I'm going back tomorrow to clean up the mess winter left behind.  They're also going to give us some raspberry, grape, currants and gooseberry sprouts to start growing in our own little garden.
          It's been a long time since I've climbed any sort of tree but I managed to climb our apple tree and gave it a good pruning - only fell once but thankfully not out of the tree - my feet became twisted in the cut off branches while pulling them away and piling them into a heap - should be good nibbling material for the goats once they arrive.  Although it seems like we should be tilling the garden and begin planting veggies, it's apparently not too unusual to still get hit by another bout of frost and if that's not bad enough, especially when I hear loads of croaking frogs in the nearby vicinity serenading one another, I'm reminded that fly season will be arriving any day now.  Apparently the mosquitoes are the size of small birds and the hordes of black flies that are returning from wintering in Transylvania (Dracula's home base) are thirsty for the taste of blood.  Odd, although the bats will soon be returning as well, they are not the blood-sucking variety and much prefer to devour flying insects.  Last summer, I was thinking of ways to get rid of the bats because I thought they were living in the attic.  As it turns out they were residing beneath the metal roof and now because of all the tales I've heard about the black fly epidemic about to hit us, I'm actually looking forward to their return - must have a look this evening - I wonder if the moon is full tonight?