My wife Sarah and I went to the auction yesterday afternoon - not so much to buy something but to sell something - Jacques - our overly romantic horny billy goat that has continually sprayed himself with urine to apparently, over the past couple of months, in order to make himself more attractive to entice his one and only true love Freya to do the vertical boogie with him. The only thing seemingly to be more important to Jacques, other than dousing himself with yellow urine like many women do with perfume and mating with Freya is FOOD! (Isn't that how many women get men - through their bellies?) That being said is how we lured this Don Juan of goats into the back of Buddy - our 1/2 ton diesel truck and then drove him to Florenceville to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Besides Jacques, another goat was to come under the gavel and the sing-song - "Who'll give me fifty, how about thirty-five, sold to the bearded farmer in the back row with the red bandanna wrapped around his head to keep his pigtail in place and the day-glo suspenders holding his massive beer-gut from dragging on the floor - how long ago has it been since you last saw your dick sir?" The little white goat and I mean LITTLE white goat sold for 20 bucks, so I thought since our billy goat was at least 3 to 4 times larger we would get at the very least $60. However, we were happy when whoever bought him for less than what Sarah paid, I think it was a lady wearing an eye patch covering one eye and a monocle as thick as my finger for the other eye, exclaiming "He's just adorable, I've never seen a goat with a yellow face before." Something tells me, by the size of the wart on the tip of her nose, that he would soon be simmering in a cauldron, along with a basketful of poison mushrooms and bat wings.
I've been to quite a few auctions over the years, several of them being auctions regarding livestock and I knew enough not to raise my hand hastily or nod towards the auctioneer whenever I had to scratch my head but wouldn't you know it, I bought something I didn't know I was bidding on. There were several men dressed in very informal outfits such as coveralls and work pants held up by thick suspenders that could probably be used to haul a semi truck out of the ditch or strap a strapping bull that had his gonads dragging on the ground. They were all holding something up for the spectators to bid on and because the auctioneer was rambling on, with the microphone darn near jammed down his throat far enough to tickle his larynx, it was hard to understand what he was muttering about. I'm thinking I'm bidding on a white hose that's safe for drinking water and was willing to go as high as 20 bucks. Luckily for me since I had won the bid and there were 2 white hoses, so I could actually buy them both for $20. each, I told the auctioneer I only wanted one. Sarah was laughing her head off when I realized I'd bought a gallon of Fleecy, something to make a person's clothes fluff up and smell nice. However, I did manage to win the bid on the hose - only 15 bucks - what a bargain for a brand new 50' hose. When I picked up the Fleecy, I told the guy handing me the gallon jug that I'd just bought some sheep and they smelled real bad and that Fleecy would make their fleece fluff up and they would all smell as nice as spring time fresh air - to which of course he looked at me very oddly - probably thought, rank amateur, which of course would have been the truth.
The last I saw of Jacques, he was still tied to the wall in a small stall waiting to be picked up and either driven or rode to his new home, I think that one-eyed witch had a broom though - so he'd just have to trot along behind her. We're hoping with Jacques gone now, things around the barnyard will settle down a little bit, especially since he was more of a bully goat than a billy goat. I'm presuming Freya will enjoy not being mounted every time she turned her back on Jacques and I know Luki, our Great Pyrenees dog won't miss getting butted on a daily basis. Me, I started singing this little ditty when the auctioneer yelled, "Sold" - "Hit the road Jacques and don't come back no more, no more - hit the road Jacques and don't you come back no more!" - cheers - eh!
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
I LOVE TO LIVE
A few people have asked me what's it's like to be 70 - no difference than 69, said I. But I can tell you this - there's quite a difference between 50 and 70. I'm definitely slower now, not so much mentally, and I ache a whole lot more - wake up at night every time I have to turn over. That's enough of my whining - age 70, if you're still in basically not bad shape, aren't packing a huge amount of weight, don't drink and smoke on a daily basis to excess, still have sex on a regular basis - life is bloody good, says I. Oh yeah, and did I mention if you don't have a lot of huge bills and aren't a manic depressive - life is just bloody grand. Retiring isn't the answer even if you have gobs of money and can travel the world, go out to eat every day, drink the finest wines and dress to the nines - it's keeping busy and having an outlook to the future that matters. Some people complain that they are often bored and I can tell you that word doesn't exist in my own personal vocabulary. Being busy and physically active, even if the chores are a little harder at this age is better than sitting on one's ass in front of a computer or TV for long periods of time - being sedimentary is the fastest road I know that leads to the cemetery.
Most of the hard work that I undertook, beginning in the spring, is coming to an end soon - I can actually see the light at the end of the tunnel and it's beckoning me to pick up my brushes once again and splash a little paint on some canvases. I'm planning on having an artistic and creative winter - so the snow can come as soon as it likes. Since painting isn't exactly a physical endeavour, I'm going to buy a pair of snowshoes or mend the ones I have - plan on doing a little hiking through the snow - it's a good time then, because all the bears are hibernating. Planning on doing a little carving with a master wood-worker too - my knives are all sharpened and I plan on making some beer - good conversations and whittling by a hot wood fire with a cold beer at hand doesn't get much better for me on a cold winter day.
I'm amazed at how many people are literally chained to their lifestyles, being overloaded with high mortgage and car payments and a job they don't especially care for. In this country of ours and I suspect even in the US, there are places where a person can live and have very little debt - of course, they may not be living close to their relatives and friends any longer and the weather can be harsher. I've never been able to understand why so many people load themselves up with so many things that make them slaves to the system - going after the Great American or Great Canadian Dream is just a lot of crap that's been fed to us like pablum to babies and it should be flushed down the drain. It's amazing, what many would believe to be a major change, so when one does finally break away from the mundane system of their daily lives, how much brighter the future looks. However, that being said, one has to honestly grip one's new life tightly and learn to adapt - like a chameleon, blend in and make a substantial effort to live a slightly different way. For me, having lived in major cities, on a sailboat for many years, running my own demanding business with a small host of employees and now moving to a semi-wilderness farm in a part of the country I'd only ever seen on TV or in magazines, the change has been dramatic but then I thrive on the spice of life and the challenges it affords. If I could have only one wish to make my life a touch easier, it would be to turn back the clock to when I was 50 - have very little pain and a lot more energy - I don't know about you but I love to live - cheers - eh!
Most of the hard work that I undertook, beginning in the spring, is coming to an end soon - I can actually see the light at the end of the tunnel and it's beckoning me to pick up my brushes once again and splash a little paint on some canvases. I'm planning on having an artistic and creative winter - so the snow can come as soon as it likes. Since painting isn't exactly a physical endeavour, I'm going to buy a pair of snowshoes or mend the ones I have - plan on doing a little hiking through the snow - it's a good time then, because all the bears are hibernating. Planning on doing a little carving with a master wood-worker too - my knives are all sharpened and I plan on making some beer - good conversations and whittling by a hot wood fire with a cold beer at hand doesn't get much better for me on a cold winter day.
I'm amazed at how many people are literally chained to their lifestyles, being overloaded with high mortgage and car payments and a job they don't especially care for. In this country of ours and I suspect even in the US, there are places where a person can live and have very little debt - of course, they may not be living close to their relatives and friends any longer and the weather can be harsher. I've never been able to understand why so many people load themselves up with so many things that make them slaves to the system - going after the Great American or Great Canadian Dream is just a lot of crap that's been fed to us like pablum to babies and it should be flushed down the drain. It's amazing, what many would believe to be a major change, so when one does finally break away from the mundane system of their daily lives, how much brighter the future looks. However, that being said, one has to honestly grip one's new life tightly and learn to adapt - like a chameleon, blend in and make a substantial effort to live a slightly different way. For me, having lived in major cities, on a sailboat for many years, running my own demanding business with a small host of employees and now moving to a semi-wilderness farm in a part of the country I'd only ever seen on TV or in magazines, the change has been dramatic but then I thrive on the spice of life and the challenges it affords. If I could have only one wish to make my life a touch easier, it would be to turn back the clock to when I was 50 - have very little pain and a lot more energy - I don't know about you but I love to live - cheers - eh!
Saturday, September 17, 2011
I'M 70 YEARS OLD TODAY
I guess I should write a few words about turning 70 today before the birthday party starts. I guess it's somewhat of an accomplishment for me to have reached this age, especially since I haven't really lived my life, although somewhat of a shy man, in a shy way. I've buried quite a few younger friends that were killed and I was just lucky not to be with them when their deaths occurred - driving drunk or sober, cars and motorcycles (I'm not proud of it) we were rebels in our own minds. I've associated with loving dogs, high-strung racehorses, no-tail kitty cat and cats with tails (they swing well through an open doorway) clucking chickens, pouting pigeons, belligerent little budgies, tropical fish and obstinate goats. I've rubbed shoulders with pimps, prostitutes, preachers and a lot of other people that start with the letter 'P' and girlfriends and lovers - I don't have enough fingers and toes to count them all. Only two wives - both very good and caring women - don't know what they ever saw in me but I'm thankful for their love. Did I mention I have kids - well I do - 5 girls and 1 boy - grand kids 2 - both boys (odd that my name ends with me). Not everyone gets to have 2 mothers but I did and they were good for me - taught me a lot about who I am today. and my dad - he was a very special man in my life - a big part of him is me and I'm proud to say that the good part of me is mostly him.
There's really nothing very special about reaching the age of 70 - I don't feel any different than I did yesterday and I was 69 then. It's like a lot of people believe I guess - age is just a number. Sure I've got aches and pains, I grumble and I bitch, hair, mustache and eyebrows are white (least I got hair), missing some teeth - the end of my thumb (friggin' motorcycle chewed the end off - must have been hungry) I've got wrinkles that a hot iron can't remove but hey - I don't need a wheelchair, cane, walker or colostomy (no idea how to spell that word) bag - still wear jeans and not Depends - my mind is still as sharp as a dull pencil and hey - sex is still a big highlight in my aging life - don't need no Viagra, no pin-up magazines, porno videos to make Mr. Happy, happy - my wife still turns me on like the very first time - won't tell you how old I was or who she was - secrets are secrets and some should never be divulged.
I've had some interesting and not too interesting jobs during my life - been a paperboy (can you believe I was fired?) a hot-walker, a groom (spent 10 years on a racetrack), stocked shelves at K-Mart, TV art director, commercial artist and sign painter - did I mention silk-screener (pulled a squeegee for miles manufacturing - "Oh thank heaven" 7-Eleven signs) was a bookie for a short while and was asked if I would be a pimp - can't believe some of the places I used to hang in and the people I hung with). And oh yeah - I had my own business too - complete with employees and everything that goes with the powers of being one's own boss. Been a gambler, a boozer and a midnight lover - of course they weren't jobs - just lost my money and a lot of self-respect. I've been a logger, did a wee stint in the army (me and orders just don't get along - there's that rebel in me again sounding off) and was even a demolisher - tore down a few buildings in my time. It wasn't a job, but I've been a sailor - sailed the North Pacific, the Bering Sea and the Arctic Ocean - why hell - I even sailed through the Northwest Passage on quite likely the smallest sailboat to ever traverse that icy course - Dove III.
Education - yeah I've got education - Grade 12 and can you believe I have initials I can put after my name - a BA in art. Oh yeah, I've been a teacher, given seminars, rubbed shoulders with millionaires and been very close to being one myself (earned it all and lost it all -but had more fun losing my last 20 bucks on a longshot and going hungry for a day or two). I can literally say, I've been stomped on, bucked off and dragged - even had a so called friend punch out my front teeth - even been in a couple of bar room brawls - I was the guy crawling out the door - bloody hell but I hate pain!) I've been knocked out with a crib board over the head - a knife and pitchfork at my throat - i won't talk about the jealous husbands - what they don't know won't hurt them. Yeah, I've got education - most of it out behind the barn and just the plain old education of getting through one day and then the next.
At age 70, yeah, my body's heading south to a 6' hole in the ground and it's a slippery slide without a hand-hold but I'm not giving up easy - I've still got my dreams and I just know my f_ _ _ing bucket list will never be emptied - I've got things to do now and things I want to do in the future - why heck - if there's a heaven or hell - I'll bet there'll be things I'll be wanting to do there too - most likely escape is what I'm thinking (once a rebel; always a rebel). I've been accused about having a Peter Pan syndrome but I like to think, not so much that I never grew up but that I've got an insatiable desire to continue dreaming - yeah, I'm a dreamer and a bloody good one too. Right now - I'm dreaming about the case of beer my son-in-law James is bringing to me for my birthday very soon - what a surprise last evening and quite likely the best present I could get for my birthday - my daughter - did I mention my beautiful and caring daughter Brandi showed up from Toronto with Ethan my grandson - yup - can taste that cold Alexander Keith Pale Ale already - cheers eh!
There's really nothing very special about reaching the age of 70 - I don't feel any different than I did yesterday and I was 69 then. It's like a lot of people believe I guess - age is just a number. Sure I've got aches and pains, I grumble and I bitch, hair, mustache and eyebrows are white (least I got hair), missing some teeth - the end of my thumb (friggin' motorcycle chewed the end off - must have been hungry) I've got wrinkles that a hot iron can't remove but hey - I don't need a wheelchair, cane, walker or colostomy (no idea how to spell that word) bag - still wear jeans and not Depends - my mind is still as sharp as a dull pencil and hey - sex is still a big highlight in my aging life - don't need no Viagra, no pin-up magazines, porno videos to make Mr. Happy, happy - my wife still turns me on like the very first time - won't tell you how old I was or who she was - secrets are secrets and some should never be divulged.
I've had some interesting and not too interesting jobs during my life - been a paperboy (can you believe I was fired?) a hot-walker, a groom (spent 10 years on a racetrack), stocked shelves at K-Mart, TV art director, commercial artist and sign painter - did I mention silk-screener (pulled a squeegee for miles manufacturing - "Oh thank heaven" 7-Eleven signs) was a bookie for a short while and was asked if I would be a pimp - can't believe some of the places I used to hang in and the people I hung with). And oh yeah - I had my own business too - complete with employees and everything that goes with the powers of being one's own boss. Been a gambler, a boozer and a midnight lover - of course they weren't jobs - just lost my money and a lot of self-respect. I've been a logger, did a wee stint in the army (me and orders just don't get along - there's that rebel in me again sounding off) and was even a demolisher - tore down a few buildings in my time. It wasn't a job, but I've been a sailor - sailed the North Pacific, the Bering Sea and the Arctic Ocean - why hell - I even sailed through the Northwest Passage on quite likely the smallest sailboat to ever traverse that icy course - Dove III.
Education - yeah I've got education - Grade 12 and can you believe I have initials I can put after my name - a BA in art. Oh yeah, I've been a teacher, given seminars, rubbed shoulders with millionaires and been very close to being one myself (earned it all and lost it all -but had more fun losing my last 20 bucks on a longshot and going hungry for a day or two). I can literally say, I've been stomped on, bucked off and dragged - even had a so called friend punch out my front teeth - even been in a couple of bar room brawls - I was the guy crawling out the door - bloody hell but I hate pain!) I've been knocked out with a crib board over the head - a knife and pitchfork at my throat - i won't talk about the jealous husbands - what they don't know won't hurt them. Yeah, I've got education - most of it out behind the barn and just the plain old education of getting through one day and then the next.
At age 70, yeah, my body's heading south to a 6' hole in the ground and it's a slippery slide without a hand-hold but I'm not giving up easy - I've still got my dreams and I just know my f_ _ _ing bucket list will never be emptied - I've got things to do now and things I want to do in the future - why heck - if there's a heaven or hell - I'll bet there'll be things I'll be wanting to do there too - most likely escape is what I'm thinking (once a rebel; always a rebel). I've been accused about having a Peter Pan syndrome but I like to think, not so much that I never grew up but that I've got an insatiable desire to continue dreaming - yeah, I'm a dreamer and a bloody good one too. Right now - I'm dreaming about the case of beer my son-in-law James is bringing to me for my birthday very soon - what a surprise last evening and quite likely the best present I could get for my birthday - my daughter - did I mention my beautiful and caring daughter Brandi showed up from Toronto with Ethan my grandson - yup - can taste that cold Alexander Keith Pale Ale already - cheers eh!
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
AAH - I LOVE THE SMELL OF CHICKEN DROPPINGS IN THE MORNING
Dawn was stepping out of the darkness as shyly as a vestal virgin this morning as I made my way to the studio; water dripping from the trees announcing a shower must have occurred sometime during the night. The paint tins are as empty as my bucket of energy this morning so I can't resume painting the exterior of the barn and garage. I had to use a brush on just about the whole place, cutting between the battens every 3" or so seems to have take forever considering the time it takes to roll the paint on them - 12 hours brushing compared to 1 hour rolling. Of course it didn't help that the boards were thirstier than an Arab crawling on his hands and knees, 327 miles over the burning Sahara sand to the closest oasis, with his worn out camel and empty canteen strapped to his back.
I can hear the chickens clucking away as the sky brightens over the ridge; some of them considering laying an egg. The only chickens, out of 52, which are laying are the white leghorns but they're slightly older than the rest of the hens. Sarah and I were happy for the first week when the leghorns arrived because the leghorns were laying 13 eggs a day, which was very unusual. This led us to believe that the younger hens were just starting to lay as well, the reason being, Glenn Mclean had only sold us 12 leghorns and it wasn't likely one of the hens was laying two eggs. It wasn't until about a week later when I counted the leghorns that I realized, Glenn being a very generous man, had tossed in an extra leghorn - instead of 12 hens - there were 13, a baker's dozen.
I'd been planning on building a small deck outside the studio but instead I built a small chicken run. So, instead of sitting outside, sipping on a cold beer on a hot afternoon, if I step outside the door and am not careful - I get to step on chicken shit - my gosh do 52 chickens ever crap a lot. (Which reminds me, it's time to clean out the chicken coop.) However, despite the chicken droppings, I actually really like that the chickens are often just outside, standing and peering through the glass door, as if to say, "We're sociable; can we come inside for a visit?"
Last evening, I had a long hot bath - the water deep and hot enough to have a corn boil and lobster dinner for 37 hungry New Brunswack-os and left the attendance to the animals and chickens to Sarah and Jessica, which they did when they returned home from "Greet and Meet the Teacher" at the school in Canterbury. I joined them outside on the other side of the pasture fence in my kimono, almost crippling myself swatting a bombardment of kamikaze mosquitoes that were attacking my exposed lily-white legs. Between slaps, I noticed Luki, the Great Pyrenees dog, being encouraged to run and leap around like a pup by Sarah and Jessica, forgetting that he's about the same size as me, bowled Jessica over as easily as taking out a lane of ten pins in a bowling alley just by wagging his tail. Luckily, although she was in tears and stomped off to the house thinking the dog didn't like her anymore, she wasn't really hurt. The dog and I are probably fairly close in weight and when he stands on his hind feet we're about the same height, so I for one don't get him excited enough to take a leap up on me because just like Jessica, he'd most likely knock me down as well.
Judging by the cloudy sky, I suspect here at Golden Unicorn Farm, it's most likely going to rain. Regardless, since I'm out of paint, I can't finish painting, so what will I do - silly question - there's so much to do around here before the snow flies. However, that being said, what will I do today; finish building the interior of the barn or clean the chicken coop - easy decision - clean the coop first and then work on the feed room and a goat stall. Aah, I love the smell of chicken droppings (being polite instead of saying shit) in the morning - cheers - eh!
I can hear the chickens clucking away as the sky brightens over the ridge; some of them considering laying an egg. The only chickens, out of 52, which are laying are the white leghorns but they're slightly older than the rest of the hens. Sarah and I were happy for the first week when the leghorns arrived because the leghorns were laying 13 eggs a day, which was very unusual. This led us to believe that the younger hens were just starting to lay as well, the reason being, Glenn Mclean had only sold us 12 leghorns and it wasn't likely one of the hens was laying two eggs. It wasn't until about a week later when I counted the leghorns that I realized, Glenn being a very generous man, had tossed in an extra leghorn - instead of 12 hens - there were 13, a baker's dozen.
I'd been planning on building a small deck outside the studio but instead I built a small chicken run. So, instead of sitting outside, sipping on a cold beer on a hot afternoon, if I step outside the door and am not careful - I get to step on chicken shit - my gosh do 52 chickens ever crap a lot. (Which reminds me, it's time to clean out the chicken coop.) However, despite the chicken droppings, I actually really like that the chickens are often just outside, standing and peering through the glass door, as if to say, "We're sociable; can we come inside for a visit?"
Last evening, I had a long hot bath - the water deep and hot enough to have a corn boil and lobster dinner for 37 hungry New Brunswack-os and left the attendance to the animals and chickens to Sarah and Jessica, which they did when they returned home from "Greet and Meet the Teacher" at the school in Canterbury. I joined them outside on the other side of the pasture fence in my kimono, almost crippling myself swatting a bombardment of kamikaze mosquitoes that were attacking my exposed lily-white legs. Between slaps, I noticed Luki, the Great Pyrenees dog, being encouraged to run and leap around like a pup by Sarah and Jessica, forgetting that he's about the same size as me, bowled Jessica over as easily as taking out a lane of ten pins in a bowling alley just by wagging his tail. Luckily, although she was in tears and stomped off to the house thinking the dog didn't like her anymore, she wasn't really hurt. The dog and I are probably fairly close in weight and when he stands on his hind feet we're about the same height, so I for one don't get him excited enough to take a leap up on me because just like Jessica, he'd most likely knock me down as well.
Judging by the cloudy sky, I suspect here at Golden Unicorn Farm, it's most likely going to rain. Regardless, since I'm out of paint, I can't finish painting, so what will I do - silly question - there's so much to do around here before the snow flies. However, that being said, what will I do today; finish building the interior of the barn or clean the chicken coop - easy decision - clean the coop first and then work on the feed room and a goat stall. Aah, I love the smell of chicken droppings (being polite instead of saying shit) in the morning - cheers - eh!
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
FROM DREAMINSAILORMAN TO DREAMINFARMERMAN - A 1 BEER BLOG
I realize quite a few people follow my blog postings, but since the weather has been highly uncooperative this summer - seems like it rains about 5 days out of each week - my new job description being changed from dreaminsailorman to dreaminfarmerman, I've been busier than a rooster with 30 hens to keep happy, I rarely have much time to write anything. At the moment, the seldom seen sun is shining brightly and I have to take advantage of it - so much to do before winter comes sneaking about. I was hoping to finish painting the barn, chicken coop and the garage today, except for the white trim, but the 5 gallon pail of red barn paint ran dry just like my beer supply as soon as I finish the one I'm drinking. Since I've been painting almost 6 hours straight, I figured it was time to take a break - kick back for a bit, write a little and even though I'm thirstier than a gold fish that's been flopping around on the floor for about an hour and half, I'm trying to prolong my bottle of cold beer.
I don't know how many of the people that read my blog consider themselves to be be a good, all around, squeeze the last drip out of a bottle of beer but I can honestly tell you that I'm a bonafied beer lover - right from the very thirst time I got my lips around the business end of a bottle of beer. On occasion, people have told me that I look young for my age (mostly those that are younger and can't relate to my age bracket) and would like to know my secret. Sarah's oldest daughter Rachel (2 months away from 17) thinks I should dye my hair, mustache and eyebrows so I would look a lot younger but I told her, what's the sense - I'd just be an old man with young hair - still have all my aches and pains - how many intelligent marbles I've still got rolling around in my head are debatable. However, some that are lathered to the gills with wrinkle filler and a gallon of dye by the sink that are very persistent about my secret, I just tell them I've taken a lot of Vitamin B over the years - B for beer.
I notice the leaves are beginning to turn colour; the trees soon to be dressed to the nines - a crimson forest against a bright blue sky - autumn, one of my favorite seasons. I'm not sure if I'm still in the autumn of my years - could be since I sometimes totter a bit and fall down depending on the wind velocity. However, judging by the colour of my hair, whiter than the tops of the Rocky Mountains, I'd say I've reached the winter of my years - too bad for me, spring will never be popping its sassy head over the horizon. But hey, things aren't so bad, I've still got a little spring in my step for an old fart.
I don't know how many of you faithful readers of this old dabbler's blog are looking forward to winter - but oddly enough - I am. It will be good to take it a bit easy and not have to lift anything much heavier than a paint brush. I have a friend that's a good wood carver, so I'm thinking of hiking up over Green Mountain at least one day a week during the winter, unless a blizzard is blowing and I can't see one step in front of the other and carve something with him in his work shop. Since he's carved some great looking gargoyles, I'm considering carving a unicorn with its mouth wide open for the rain to shoot out. I'm sure he'll be able to help me out if I get into a bind. And besides carving, I'm hoping to finish painting a painting of Cleopatra in her silver and purple barge that I started over three years ago. If I was younger, I wouldn't be in such a rush but at this age, with the grim reaper snooping around the back pasture with his sharp steel scythe, it's just one of the things I'd like to complete before I'm gone - you know, it's one of the things at the top of my bucket list. Dang - my bucket list is full of empties now - need to hit the beer store real soon - cheers -eh!
I don't know how many of the people that read my blog consider themselves to be be a good, all around, squeeze the last drip out of a bottle of beer but I can honestly tell you that I'm a bonafied beer lover - right from the very thirst time I got my lips around the business end of a bottle of beer. On occasion, people have told me that I look young for my age (mostly those that are younger and can't relate to my age bracket) and would like to know my secret. Sarah's oldest daughter Rachel (2 months away from 17) thinks I should dye my hair, mustache and eyebrows so I would look a lot younger but I told her, what's the sense - I'd just be an old man with young hair - still have all my aches and pains - how many intelligent marbles I've still got rolling around in my head are debatable. However, some that are lathered to the gills with wrinkle filler and a gallon of dye by the sink that are very persistent about my secret, I just tell them I've taken a lot of Vitamin B over the years - B for beer.
I notice the leaves are beginning to turn colour; the trees soon to be dressed to the nines - a crimson forest against a bright blue sky - autumn, one of my favorite seasons. I'm not sure if I'm still in the autumn of my years - could be since I sometimes totter a bit and fall down depending on the wind velocity. However, judging by the colour of my hair, whiter than the tops of the Rocky Mountains, I'd say I've reached the winter of my years - too bad for me, spring will never be popping its sassy head over the horizon. But hey, things aren't so bad, I've still got a little spring in my step for an old fart.
I don't know how many of you faithful readers of this old dabbler's blog are looking forward to winter - but oddly enough - I am. It will be good to take it a bit easy and not have to lift anything much heavier than a paint brush. I have a friend that's a good wood carver, so I'm thinking of hiking up over Green Mountain at least one day a week during the winter, unless a blizzard is blowing and I can't see one step in front of the other and carve something with him in his work shop. Since he's carved some great looking gargoyles, I'm considering carving a unicorn with its mouth wide open for the rain to shoot out. I'm sure he'll be able to help me out if I get into a bind. And besides carving, I'm hoping to finish painting a painting of Cleopatra in her silver and purple barge that I started over three years ago. If I was younger, I wouldn't be in such a rush but at this age, with the grim reaper snooping around the back pasture with his sharp steel scythe, it's just one of the things I'd like to complete before I'm gone - you know, it's one of the things at the top of my bucket list. Dang - my bucket list is full of empties now - need to hit the beer store real soon - cheers -eh!
Monday, September 5, 2011
SOMETIMES I JUST HAVE TO SAY WHAT IS ON MY MIND
I write mostly about life here at the base of Green Mountain at Golden Unicorn Farm where I live with my wife Sarah and her two daughters and all is quite well. We have a nice old house, combined studio, garage and barn, plus 50 beautiful acres, much of it forested - nothing like where we had been living in Nanaimo, BC or what we could have had if we had remained there. Our lifestyle has changed slightly but not so much that it is a drastic contrast to the way we had been living. I'm still turning out the odd sign, Sarah is creating the occasional website; like most other people, we're still connected to the world via a transparent umbilical cord to the Internet. Unfortunately, we are still in some ways much like many of our forefathers such as good old Chrissy boy (Christopher Columbus) who first came to the Atlantic shores of North America and just brought all his dirty old laundry and baggage with him from the "old world". Instead of concentrating on a fresh new beginning, we're caught up wasting much of our time on Facebook, Twitter, MSN, etc. or playing games with strangers from a long "Friends" list, thinking or even believing they're actual friends when nothing could be further from the truth. In actuality as one travels through life, one could consider themselves to be very lucky if they have acquired one to three actual good friends along the way, people who genuinely and earnestly care about them.
Many people believe we are in the grasp of the "Great Satan" and he is bringing about the deliberate destruction of our planet, the only place we are able to exist in the known Universe. And some believe that the cure all is God and that He will be our "Great Saviour" and whether or not those two beings exist, I don't really have a clue. However, that being said, being an actual participant as a human being, I know that good and evil exists within me and I have a choice to choose which course to follow. During different periods of my life I have gone down both roads and it wasn't difficult to see, which road was the best one to follow. The road that made me feel good about myself was naturally the "good" road to travel - the "bad" road for the most part made me feel ashamed of myself. And that's the part I don't get about many of us humans but then ignorance, which is a very common denominator in the majority of our species isn't allowing us to see the "good" road from the "bad" road.
Very close to where we are living, the forest is being leveled; the trees being taken, mere twigs of their eventual growth were they allowed to live that long. The men operating the machinery and chain saws, being manipulated by the government and big business, see only a pay check, a way to pay the bills and raise a family - it's sad that they don't see the legal thievery they're committing; the natural legacy for their children or their children's children soon to be gone forever. And, when the trees are gone, which will eventually happen one day because nothing lasts forever, when their annihilation is exploited to such a devastating degree; what will be left to sell on the green rolling hills of New Brunswick? And on the bigger picture, the larger scale in Canada, I understand if the Texans get their way, they will have control of the oil sands and the production will be of such a high scale that the environment and the weather (we all know is declining very drastically) is going to plummet to a level that will most likely be catastrophic not only to the entire human race but to every living inhabitant upon the face of the earth.
This is the only world that can sustain our lives in the entire Universe, even the closest star that we can observe, which is many, many light years away can't sustain life as we know it - just imagine, there may not be another planet in the entire Universe where we can live and with that in mind, why are we so hell-bent on destroying our only real home; is the human race suicidal; that certainly separates us from the animals; doesn't it? They kill for sustenance but not themselves.
For almost the last 30 years, I've tried to leave as little of a footprint as I'm able; giving up driving my motorcycle (actually gave it away one day) forcing myself to walk more and by living on a sailboat in a very small space for almost 25 years, I discovered my needs were not so many as living in a house - I mean where would I put all that crappy-tacky junk from the Dollar Store that China sells us from their child labour resources - my gosh - we white men used to laugh at the Indians for trading their furs and lands for beads and baubles and now it's our turn; who are the biggest fools?
The writing is on the wall, there are signs everywhere, alarm bells sounding our demise - I don't know why we humans, who consider ourselves oh so smart, our own brilliance and egos out-shining the Sun, can't put a stop to our planet's destruction. Instead of breathing crappy air, drinking foul water, eating modified, scientifically manipulated food; why can't we say no to that shit? Are we like dumb sheep following one another over a deep chasm, plunging upon the rocks of despair and then watching our life's blood and our children's blood seeping away? They say, "War is hell" but what is happening now, will soon be worse than any war that's ever occurred upon this Earth! That is, if we don't stand up and say, "No! No dammit! We've had enough; we aren't going to live this way anymore!" Cheers -eh!
Many people believe we are in the grasp of the "Great Satan" and he is bringing about the deliberate destruction of our planet, the only place we are able to exist in the known Universe. And some believe that the cure all is God and that He will be our "Great Saviour" and whether or not those two beings exist, I don't really have a clue. However, that being said, being an actual participant as a human being, I know that good and evil exists within me and I have a choice to choose which course to follow. During different periods of my life I have gone down both roads and it wasn't difficult to see, which road was the best one to follow. The road that made me feel good about myself was naturally the "good" road to travel - the "bad" road for the most part made me feel ashamed of myself. And that's the part I don't get about many of us humans but then ignorance, which is a very common denominator in the majority of our species isn't allowing us to see the "good" road from the "bad" road.
Very close to where we are living, the forest is being leveled; the trees being taken, mere twigs of their eventual growth were they allowed to live that long. The men operating the machinery and chain saws, being manipulated by the government and big business, see only a pay check, a way to pay the bills and raise a family - it's sad that they don't see the legal thievery they're committing; the natural legacy for their children or their children's children soon to be gone forever. And, when the trees are gone, which will eventually happen one day because nothing lasts forever, when their annihilation is exploited to such a devastating degree; what will be left to sell on the green rolling hills of New Brunswick? And on the bigger picture, the larger scale in Canada, I understand if the Texans get their way, they will have control of the oil sands and the production will be of such a high scale that the environment and the weather (we all know is declining very drastically) is going to plummet to a level that will most likely be catastrophic not only to the entire human race but to every living inhabitant upon the face of the earth.
This is the only world that can sustain our lives in the entire Universe, even the closest star that we can observe, which is many, many light years away can't sustain life as we know it - just imagine, there may not be another planet in the entire Universe where we can live and with that in mind, why are we so hell-bent on destroying our only real home; is the human race suicidal; that certainly separates us from the animals; doesn't it? They kill for sustenance but not themselves.
For almost the last 30 years, I've tried to leave as little of a footprint as I'm able; giving up driving my motorcycle (actually gave it away one day) forcing myself to walk more and by living on a sailboat in a very small space for almost 25 years, I discovered my needs were not so many as living in a house - I mean where would I put all that crappy-tacky junk from the Dollar Store that China sells us from their child labour resources - my gosh - we white men used to laugh at the Indians for trading their furs and lands for beads and baubles and now it's our turn; who are the biggest fools?
The writing is on the wall, there are signs everywhere, alarm bells sounding our demise - I don't know why we humans, who consider ourselves oh so smart, our own brilliance and egos out-shining the Sun, can't put a stop to our planet's destruction. Instead of breathing crappy air, drinking foul water, eating modified, scientifically manipulated food; why can't we say no to that shit? Are we like dumb sheep following one another over a deep chasm, plunging upon the rocks of despair and then watching our life's blood and our children's blood seeping away? They say, "War is hell" but what is happening now, will soon be worse than any war that's ever occurred upon this Earth! That is, if we don't stand up and say, "No! No dammit! We've had enough; we aren't going to live this way anymore!" Cheers -eh!
Sunday, September 4, 2011
A THUNDER STORM - LOOKING FORWARD TO WINTER AND BEYOND
The heavens overhead Golden Unicorn Farm are loudly rumbling; the gods must be angry. And I, for one, can't blame them for their anger. So far, as I write this blog, only a little rain has fallen but I'm certain a torrent shall soon come splattering down; I suspect they are tears of sadness because of what mankind has done and is continuing to do with our wee, fragile planet that spins precariously around the Sun. I haven't seen any lightning flashes as of yet, but most likely, they too will soon be visibly active. Yes, now the full brunt of the storm has arrived; the animals and chickens have taken refuge in the barn to escape its fury. I can hear the goats bleating disdainfully, not because of the pouring rain, the loud thunder or that it's become quite dark outside, but because they're proclaiming it's time to feed them their evening grain.
I guess Sarah and the girls must have heard the goats bleating because they suddenly came charging, giggling and yelling from the house to feed them. In the short distance between the house and the barn, they must have been soaked; impossible to dodge the large droplets of rain falling from the roiling, slate-grey clouds. The wind hasn't been blowing very hard, but occasionally I hear a gust driving the rain hard against the metal roof; sounding much like a tap-dance troupe rehearsing for a Broadway musical.
Since dusk has now arrived, the thunder storm abated, I took a stroll around the pasture, Luki, the Great Pyrenees at my side. Thought I'd check out the fence perimeter to make sure it wasn't in need of repair. Everything seemed fine as I made my way through the deep wet grass and the dripping trees that are growing at the far end of the pasture. As I looked around, I noticed that up to a height slightly above my head, the goats had eaten all the foliage; the tops of the trees looking much like summer, their lower portions appearing more like autumn.
Now that the exterior of the barn has been completed, except for the eave troughs, I was going to start painting it and the attached garage but the weather isn't going to be cooperative - the next few days calls for more rain. This summer seems like much of my life, instead of one step ahead and two steps backwards, it's one day of sun and then two days of rain. Hopefully it won't rain but if it does, there is still much to do inside the barn: build a separate stall for the goats, a room for hay and feed, a small chicken pen for chickens that are literally being hen-pecked to death and a place for the dog - it's going to be bloody freezing and deep in snow before too long. Also, the garage is in a state of chaos because of all the building I've been doing - I expect it will take me two or three days to put everything in order and then of course there's my studio; I have to install a new stove pipe and stop the chimney from leaking every time it rains. Somewhere on my to-do list, since the apples are ripe, I have to take a day to pick them and make enough juice to get us through the winter, plus save a large quantity of them for canning, baking and making apple sauce. The apples are very tasty; sweet yet tart; just the way I like them.
It is not late yet but it's already dark; the days are rapidly getting shorter. I'm looking forward to winter; picking up my paint brushes and splashing a little paint around on some canvases. I may join my friend George Probst and do some carving with him; he's carved some interesting gargoyles and I'm thinking of doing one as well - a unicorn with its mouth wide open for the end of a eave trough to allow the rain to gush through. I have some other art projects in mind as well; thinking about gearing up for the next Arts Festival to be held here on Golden Unicorn Farm. The one we held 2 weeks ago must have been quite a good success because other artists that didn't participate this year are planning to next year. Instead of bar-b-qing sausages and wieners during the next event; I'm going to take more interest in my art; have sort of a casual day and mix with the other artists and entertainers. You know what they say about all work and no play; time to enjoy myself a little more next summer instead of what seems like continually sawing boards and hammering nails.
The thunder storm appears to have blown over, it's very quiet outside. The barn is quiet too; the animals and chickens most likely sound to sleep. Think I'll make like them - end this blog - go to sleep too - cheers - eh!
I guess Sarah and the girls must have heard the goats bleating because they suddenly came charging, giggling and yelling from the house to feed them. In the short distance between the house and the barn, they must have been soaked; impossible to dodge the large droplets of rain falling from the roiling, slate-grey clouds. The wind hasn't been blowing very hard, but occasionally I hear a gust driving the rain hard against the metal roof; sounding much like a tap-dance troupe rehearsing for a Broadway musical.
Since dusk has now arrived, the thunder storm abated, I took a stroll around the pasture, Luki, the Great Pyrenees at my side. Thought I'd check out the fence perimeter to make sure it wasn't in need of repair. Everything seemed fine as I made my way through the deep wet grass and the dripping trees that are growing at the far end of the pasture. As I looked around, I noticed that up to a height slightly above my head, the goats had eaten all the foliage; the tops of the trees looking much like summer, their lower portions appearing more like autumn.
Now that the exterior of the barn has been completed, except for the eave troughs, I was going to start painting it and the attached garage but the weather isn't going to be cooperative - the next few days calls for more rain. This summer seems like much of my life, instead of one step ahead and two steps backwards, it's one day of sun and then two days of rain. Hopefully it won't rain but if it does, there is still much to do inside the barn: build a separate stall for the goats, a room for hay and feed, a small chicken pen for chickens that are literally being hen-pecked to death and a place for the dog - it's going to be bloody freezing and deep in snow before too long. Also, the garage is in a state of chaos because of all the building I've been doing - I expect it will take me two or three days to put everything in order and then of course there's my studio; I have to install a new stove pipe and stop the chimney from leaking every time it rains. Somewhere on my to-do list, since the apples are ripe, I have to take a day to pick them and make enough juice to get us through the winter, plus save a large quantity of them for canning, baking and making apple sauce. The apples are very tasty; sweet yet tart; just the way I like them.
It is not late yet but it's already dark; the days are rapidly getting shorter. I'm looking forward to winter; picking up my paint brushes and splashing a little paint around on some canvases. I may join my friend George Probst and do some carving with him; he's carved some interesting gargoyles and I'm thinking of doing one as well - a unicorn with its mouth wide open for the end of a eave trough to allow the rain to gush through. I have some other art projects in mind as well; thinking about gearing up for the next Arts Festival to be held here on Golden Unicorn Farm. The one we held 2 weeks ago must have been quite a good success because other artists that didn't participate this year are planning to next year. Instead of bar-b-qing sausages and wieners during the next event; I'm going to take more interest in my art; have sort of a casual day and mix with the other artists and entertainers. You know what they say about all work and no play; time to enjoy myself a little more next summer instead of what seems like continually sawing boards and hammering nails.
The thunder storm appears to have blown over, it's very quiet outside. The barn is quiet too; the animals and chickens most likely sound to sleep. Think I'll make like them - end this blog - go to sleep too - cheers - eh!
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