BUILDING SARAH'S SHELVES FROM SCRATCH

          George Probst, a friend of mine, and I were going to get some lumber for Sarah's new pantry last weekend, so we can build her wall length shelves, a work station and perhaps another work table on wheels she can put wherever needed.  However, it was raining, which lately here at the base of Green Mountain has been almost a daily occurrence throughout the summer and now, a good portion of autumn; snow has even been forecast for this Thursday and Friday but has now been delayed until this coming Tuesday.  Like Sarah's delicious breads, sticky-buns, cookies, pies and other goodies she bakes from scratch, George and I planned to build her pantry from scratch and so, Monday afternoon, the sun shining brightly with no threat of rain, we along with his wife Margaret headed off into the forest to select some trees for this endeavour.
          George and Margaret have another piece of property that has a river running along one side and it is fully treed - many beautiful deciduous and coniferous trees stretching tall, straight and skywards, which are very marketable.  However, like George and Margaret, I see the value of the land in having trees not having them logged, especially in the disgraceful manner they are taken these days - legalized rape of the land is what I call it.  George and I are verified old men in our 70's and Margaret is no longer a spring chick either, so as we wandered around through the forest searching for suitable trees, we were very careful not to lose our balance as we stepped over fallen trees, branches and waded through the brush - a simple fall at this age, one when I was younger, would have simply just shrugged off, can now be bone-breaking.  The softwood trees we were searching for would hopefully have recently died and just naturally fallen so their wood would be suitable. However, if they had fallen a long time ago and laid too long on the ground, or for that fact, standing too long after they died, they would be rotten and be of no use.
          Using a sharp axe to check if a dead tree was rotten by chipping off its bark, George finally determined, which trees would be suitable for Sarah's pantry.  They were all spruce trees; two were already lying on the ground and the larger one had snapped off about halfway, probably during a wind storm, which he cut down with a chain saw.  While he bucked the two small fallen trees into 6' lengths, Margaret cleared a trail to the truck and I carried them out, each small log weighing approximately 60-70 lbs.  The larger tree he cut down, he had to rip the 6' lengths into quarters as it was too big around and heavy to carry.  The quarters were still too heavy  for me to carry, so Margaret grabbed an end and we both hauled them to the trailer, which after it was filled, weighed about half a ton, about all the small trailer could handle, we then headed for George's wood-working shop.

Sarah's Pantry Newly Milled Shelving Drying Out

         After we ate a good wholesome meal that Margaret had fixed, George and I carried the small logs into his workshop and began turning them into boards for the shelves and uprights.  Within a few hours of pealing bark, planing and then ripping the logs into 1"x6"x6' boards, we were finished.  Well, not quite finished; we have to go back and get a few more logs to make some thicker boards for the work tables.
          When I arrived home, I still had pieces of sawdust clinging to my clothes and in my hair and a lot of pitch was stuck to my hands.  As I stripped down for a hot bath, the aroma of the forest and the trees we had harvested still clung to my clothes and body.  Although the work was somewhat strenuous and I hurt like hell when it was over and still do after two days later, I am looking forward to returning to George and Margaret's land, to the beauty of the trees, the freshness of the forest - anyone who believes that living trees and plants have no feelings are just plain ignorant, especially since it's been proven scientifically that they are not just objects growing out of the ground, they actually do possess some sort of feelings..
          Apparently a small group of scientists placed a large plant and a bowl of water containing a goldfish in an otherwise empty room.  They applied stress pads to the plant, much the same as when they do a stress test on a human.  At the beginning, the pen movement on a piece of paper was just a line - that is - until they tipped the bowl over and the goldfish was struggling for its survival on the floor - then it was a different story.  Just like a human that's under stress, the pen drew lines like crazy.  Whether the plant was concerned about the goldfish's dilemma or its own safety was unknown but the stress test certainly proved that the plant indeed did have feelings - cheers - eh!      

CREE INDIAN PROPHESY - MY TEARS MINGLE WITH THEIRS

Only after the LAST TREE has been cut down,

Only after the LAST RIVER has been poisoned,

Only after the LAST FISH has been caught,

Only then will you find that MONEY CANNOT BE EATEN

Cree Indian Prophesy

          Other than when the higher powers, the United States and Russia back in the Kennedy era were strutting their strength in front of the whole world, threatening one another with an arsenal of nuclear weapons to blow up the whole world many times over, has our planet, our only home in the entire Universe been in such serious jeopardy.  At one time, and not that long ago, the Cree prophesy would have been about the white man's voracious, greedy appetite upon discovering a new continent with untouched riches and resources but now, I believe, although many white men are responsible for the dreadfully sad condition of the world today, the prediction is a menacing warning against those who are destroying anything or everything to fulfill their own power needs - these people, if there is a devil, are the devil's evil, corrupt and deadly spawn - the true Judas Iscariot at the Last Supper.

          OCCUPY seems to be the big word today and indeed its meaning is pulling a lot of people the world over together in order to resist the quiet army of destruction that sit behind big desks handing out baubles and beads to those that are needy and ignorant or really don't care what they are doing to earn a buck as long as they are earning a buck.  Since the First Peace March, and I'm not against peaceful marches, far from it; but what is happening now, because I firmly believe the fires of greed has gotten so far out of control; this avarice fire cannot be contained by peaceful means alone.  From what I've learned from history, whenever a problem has reached the point of no return, we, and I mean many who thought themselves incapable of violence, arm themselves with a weapon to strike out at the foe; even when they do not even know who the true foe is.

          I'm just a simple man living at the base of Green Mountain in a semi wilderness area of New Brunswick trying to get back to a somewhat simple existence.  I was once one of the rats in the rat race trying to accumulate as much wealth as possible so I could retire a millionaire at the age of 40.  This wasn't just my dream; many people had the same dream and I'm sure as people dip their hands into their pockets today to purchase a Lotto ticket, because they don't have the means and know how to rake in that kind of money, their dreams are exactly the same as mine were at one time.  I guess it's only natural to want more - most likely the first human to move into a cave thought he was living in luxury but because it was still drafty, damp and somewhat open to the elements, he kept searching for a bigger and better cave, until eventually, he began building caves to suit his needs.  And of course, those that were incapable of building a better cave, bullied others into stealing that cave or building him another.  When I look at the world conditions today, I fail to see where anything has changed since we first learned to stand upright and walk on two legs.

          The Cree Indian Prophesy from what I see occurring about me is becoming rapidly fulfilled.  Trees, as large as toothpicks compared to the size they used to grow, are driven by the truckload past Golden Unicorn Farm on a daily basis and the damage the loggers are doing to the land is devastating.  The lake, which is only ten minutes away by foot must be poisoned because we've been warned not to eat too much of the fish.  I won't have to worry about eating money when the last tree has been cut down, the last river has been poisoned and the fish have all been caught because I have very little and as odd as it may seem - I like it that way.  I like, even at the age of 70 and although I ache like hell a lot of time, that I have to physically struggle to help put food on the table and keep a roof over our heads.  My worst nightmare would be to wake up in some third world country beside a swimming pool with a cold drink in my hand being served by someone who didn't have pot to piss in - actually it could also be in a place like Las Vegas, a modern Sodom and Gomorrah.  After having way too much wealth in my life at one time and even now, still most likely more than needed - less is best says I - cheers - eh! 

             

AUTUMN LIFE AT GOLDEN UNICORN FARM

          Autumn life at Golden Unicorn Farm is ablaze with uncountable vibrant hues of colour.  The sumac trees, Virginia Creepers are seething crimsons; the birches garish golds; the maples magnificently glowing with every colour imaginable and the firs retain their gorgeous greens.  And, very soon, when the leaves have blown away, the ground is covered with snow; a pure white shroud for the countless fallen leaves, I shall begin to fill some canvases with brilliant colours to retain the autumn spirit and give meaningful pleasure to my soul.
          I hear the black Australorp rooster crowing loudly as sunlight glitters across the pasture upon the fallen leaves and mounds of grass; still green from all the rain that's fallen during this past summer.  I expect he's gathering his harem of hens; still very young, virginal and not yet laying.  The Rhode Island Red rooster has yet to utter a crowing sound, either he is still too young or does not want his presence overly known in case the black one should challenge him.  And there should be one more rooster amidst the clucking flock but he has yet to show a bright red crown or make any sound of authority - and then again - perhaps there are no roosters amongst the tufted Ameraucanas, only more hens to be divided between the red and black roosters.  The three Polish hens, Flopsy, Topsy and Mopsy (named by Jessica, Sarah's youngest daughter) are on their own; no rooster to make amorous advances towards them.  For the most part, since they don't seem to be as smart as the other barnyard hens (more pretty than brainy) it's just as well they don't produce any more like themselves, otherwise, like most evenings, when all the other chickens have returned to their coop to roost, I have to go find them and put them inside.
          Since Jack the billy goat was auctioned off awhile back, his Nubian girlfriend Freya doesn't infuriate Luki, (Great Pyrenees guard dog) quite so much; she's learned to keep her distance when he roars defiantly like a miniature lion; especially when their bowls of food are set before them.  Next spring, Sarah and I are thinking of adding some ducks to our barnyard menagerie, which means I'll have to dig a small pond for them.  I understand, besides being real characters, their eggs are just as delicious as the chicken's and if memory serves me right, less cholesterol too.
          So far, and hopefully as the years go by, Sarah and I will continue enjoying our little farm and make it a place that the locals and summertime visitors that inhabit the camps (cottages) along the nearby lakes can enjoy as well.  Of course Sarah's little cafe will be open then but it's not all about money, earning a buck; I see the way my Sarah's face lights up when someone complements her on her baking and canning wares.  And, we're planning on hosting the Golden Unicorn Arts Festival again next year.  Being an artist, I may never have been a starving artist but I know about being a struggling artist, which most of us are, so we're hoping to make the art festival a yearly event so that artists in the surrounding area can produce and sell their wares in a relaxing and friendly atmosphere - make it worthwhile for them to travel the distance to our little art oasis at the base of Green Mountain.
          Speaking of Green Mountain, since it's now ablaze with colourful reds, oranges, golds and ocher, perhaps we should temporarily change its name to Fire Mountain - cheers - eh!             

COYOTES, WOLVES AND A UNICORN GARGOYLE

          Yesterday, I went for a short walk with a friend George Probst who lives about a mile away from me on the other side of Green Mountain.  While he was showing me some hawthorn berries, we came across some large prints in the mud that looked like they were made by a dog.  However, the owner of the property where we were strolling about, although he has a moderately large dog, its prints would have only been about half that size.  George thought they were made by a coyote but from what I know about coyotes, they're not usually very big animals.  But considering that I've heard coyotes have cross-bred with wolves, there is the distinct possibility, the prints either belonged to a coyote and if not a coyote, then most likely the prints were made by a wolf.  The prints were very close to the size of my hand without the the tips of my fingers showing; they were very big and ominous.  Recently, I'd heard that the coyotes are getting braver, whereas before, they were rather timid and usually ran off when approached by a human.  Not that long ago, I heard on the news that a woman who had been jogging by herself was attacked and killed by coyotes - something that had never occurred before, at least not to my knowledge.
          Often, when I go for a walk at this time of year, I'm alone and I either go hiking through the forest or walking about a mile long loop to the lake on a seldom traveled road, since all the people that have houses alongside the lake have now migrated to warmer climates for the winter.  Seeing the large coyote or wolf prints in the mud yesterday and also hearing about a moose that was killed by a pack of coyotes a short distance away, I may start taking Luki (Great Pyrenees) with me.  Although I usually carry a small knife at all times, I might be able to handle being attacked by one coyote but I doubt that it would protect me from a pack of coyotes and wolves would be an impossibility.  A lot of bears roam around this area on a daily basis and although I've been quite close to them on foot, they don't scare me as much as a pack of wild coyotes or wolves.  I remember many years ago playing with a tame, young wolf in Calgary and although it wasn't quite fully grown, it easily knocked me down and grabbed me gently with a very long snout, which was full of a whole lot of sharp teeth; .
          At the moment, here at Golden Unicorn Farm, the sky is very dark and the rain is pouring from the heavens in torrents.  I was planning on doing some outside chores today but they will have to wait.  I haven't finished tidying the garage after building the barn, so I expect that will be one of my projects for the day; seems there's always something needing to be done around here.
          Sarah is quite the baker, pretty much baking everything from scratch and that's what I'll be doing over the winter; not baking from scratch but building from scratch.  My friend George and I are going to fall a fairly large spruce tree on his property, buck it up into appropriate lengths and then take it to his workshop, where we'll slice it into quarters and turn it into suitable boards.  We're planning to build Sarah a custom pantry for baking and canning and a workspace for her sewing needs as well.  I'll also be looking into getting a large sink that I can plumb into a space near the washer and dryer; apparently the washer and dryer can be stacked one on top of the other.  This will enable Sarah to clean all her baking utensils more easily, since some of them are too large to fit into the kitchen sink.  Originally, when Sarah and I were talking about building her lots of shelves and work tables, we were going to buy most of the materials at TNT ( lumber store in Woodstock) but after talking it over with George and he volunteered his expertise, I just know we will produce something that will be a lot nicer and more functional than if I were going to do the work just on my own.
    

          George creates beautiful cabinets, often times with exotic woods and his carvings are very intricate and have much meaning.  Each year, like the carving portrayed, he carves something special to be sold at an art auction.   So as you can see by the carving, I'm very fortunate to have someone like George giving me a hand with Sarah's work station.  And, just to have some fun time together over the winter months, I'm going to carve a gargoyle in his workshop; I'm thinking a unicorn would be ideal.  I haven't carved much of anything before but I'm hoping with a little direction from George, I can pull it off or at least have something reasonably well done so it doesn't look too amateurish.

          Despite the rain, I see the chickens have left the coop and are scratching and pecking about in the pasture.  Freya, our goat doesn't like to get wet, so will have to make sure she has some hay to nibble on in the barn.  We had some out of town visitors who were out on a drive, stop here yesterday; they were amazed how happy the animals and chickens were.  Before they left and after talking to the man for a short time and showing him my art studio, he bought one of the books I wrote, Arctic Odyssey and a dozen very fresh, free range eggs.  We're hoping, at some point down the road, our little farm will pay for itself and if not, at least we are having fun doing a lot of things we like to do - cheers - eh!