MOODY WINTER WALKS WITH DUNCAN AND WINTER CHORES

 

          Several days ago, during the evening, the snow began falling and when I awoke in the early morning, the last remnants of autumn had completely disappeared beneath the wintry shroud.  Although the wind was quite chilling, I bundled up before heading out towards the lake with our dog Duncan like I usually do; he really enjoys the walks, especially if he comes across some squirrels to chase up a tree.  Since I knew the walk in the fresh snow would be unmarked by vehicles or other people walking down the road leading to the lake, I grabbed my camera as I headed out the door.  Besides Duncan's footprints, coyote, fox, rabbit and squirrel tracks could be seen crisscrossing the road as I casually walked along listening to the creaking trees and the occasional song of a chickadee.  Because of the lighting, the photos I took almost look like they are black and white but if you look closely, you will see a hint of colour. 

          When I reach Mike and Judy Saunders' cottage on the lake, I always do a loop around their house to make sure everything is still in good order before continuing on home.  They have returned to Victoria, BC for the winter and so far everything looks very well contained for the harsh weather ahead.  Duncan and I will continue to keep an eye on their place until the snow is too deep to handle my weight (may have to invest in a pair of snowshoes).  The walk can be a bit treacherous at times because before the snow fell, I stepped on a small patch of black ice during my walk and did a remarkable display of doing the splits.

          The partial view of the frozen lake from the Saunders' place can be seen and although it is covered in snow, the ice is not yet thick enough to safely walk on but once the temperatures plummet for a lengthy time, which won't be long coming now, the ice-fishermen will show up with their augers and little buildings.  I've yet to experience ice-fishing or any other type of fishing on the lake for that matter but I'm hoping that will change in the not too distant future.  

          Winter is certainly a brooding and moody time of the year but I have to admit, I do enjoy its arrival; not so many chores. However, speaking of chores, after a wee bit of discussion with my wife Sarah, we decided to expand the bathroom into one of the upstairs bedrooms (needed a larger space for the free-standing tub I purchased).  As you can see, I'm great at ripping things apart and now that the tub has arrived, I'm beginning to wonder if expanding the bathroom is a good idea.  Of course it's too late for that now and I'm hoping, like when I'm looking at a blank canvas before I start painting, the finished product will all turn out fine.  Hardly a professional carpenter; I call myself an ad-lib carpenter - let the magic begin - cheers, eh!    

LET'S MAKE AN ENERGY TRANSITION NOW

          Anyone who reads my blog or is a friend on Facebook most likely realizes how I feel about fracking.  To put it in a nutshell; I feel that fracking should be immediately abolished even though I know the hardships that would follow, if such a decision occurred, would be considerably drastic.  But what's the alternative?  The destruction and death of our planet means our own demise and every other creature's as well.  In this time in history like no other time before, not even the terrible and horrendous two World Wars, everyone, and I mean everyone, is tied with their hands behind their backs to a post, a blindfold tied tightly across their eyes and a firing squad is aiming their guns at our hearts, awaiting the command, "Fire!"  I'm not an expertise on fracking, no scientific background of any kind, nor do I know exactly how this method works but I'd have to be a blind man not to see the detrimental downside of extracting fossil fuels in this manner - poisoned earth, air and water, and not on a small scale - means the destruction of civilization, not just to us but the deaths of our children and their children as well.  We all know what's lurking on the horizon and sooner or later, perhaps not the older people, not much time left to live, who have their heads stuck so far up their asses saying, "Well I won't be here when it all comes to an end;" someone has to be and many will be here.  I cannot even imagine how terrible it will be; not to be able to breath the air, drink the water and eat the food; Hitler's Holocaust will seem like mere child's play. 

          Well enough of my ranting; I'd like you to read what my friend Keith had published in the Telegraph Journal, St. John NB, a few days ago.  He gave me permission to include his commentary and I'm not sure how he will feel about mine, but standing on the edge of a jet plane, 30,000 feet in the air without a parachute scares the living shit out of me and that's the position I feel I'm in at the moment, so I'm speaking my mind  He knows more about this problem than I do.  However, if you feel as strongly as me about bringing fracking to an end, please feel free to share this blog - we can't leave the natives alone to stand up to the people who are trying to shove this dastardly policy down everyone's throats.  I don't know about you but there's nothing more important than having good water to drink, pollution free air to breath and naturally grown food to eat - cheers, eh! 

Let’s Make an Energy Transition Now

Keith Helmuth

          In all the media reports about the US becoming the world’s second largest producer of

hydrocarbons thanks to fracking, an inescapable factor is being ignored: No matter how we calculate it,

fossil fuels are a sunset industry. The same thing goes for the Alberta oil sands, which are touted as having

the potential for making Canada a big league hydrocarbon producer.

          The new technologies and the newly accessible hydrocarbon deposits only move the sunset

horizon a little further down the road. The logic of this scenario could not be clearer, but we continue to

act as if it were not the case despite the potentially catastrophic consequences for the habitability of the

planet. If we open up and pump out all the oil and shale gas we can find, the deposits will eventually play

out and we will likely cook the planet in the process.

          The fact that most of us presently alive will not be around for the full effect of the fossil fuel

burnout, places an unprecedented moral responsibility squarely in our laps. We now live on a unique and

temporary subsidy of hydrocarbon energy that has produced a unique and temporary economy of

affluence and convenience.

          Nothing like this has happened before. When it is over, civilization will have moved to a

renewable energy platform. Renewable energy is the only platform that makes sense for the long run and

the faster we move to it the better off our descendants will be. We are in the middle of a momentous

moral decision about energy use and the future of the planet.

          Civic and political leadership, by definition, is morally responsible for the consequences of present

societal action on future human wellbeing. Governments have an “in trust” responsibility to safeguard the

environmental assets on which we all depend, and that means especially Earth’s atmosphere.

          On the one hand, substantial evidence from earth­system science shows that pushing the fossil fuel

economy for all its worth will decrease the planet’s overall habitability and severely compromise the future

wellbeing of human communities.

          On the other hand, business leaders in the fossil fuel industry, along with their political allies, are

pushing back against the science by pointing out that curtailing the exploitation of fossil fuels would result

in a subsidence of the consumer economy. So what are civic and political leaders supposed to do? What

are we supposed to do?

          It depends on whether you think the primary moral responsibility is to keep the consumer

economy going as long as we can, even if it shortens the future; or whether you think a higher moral

responsibility is to change course in order to give our descendants a better chance of having an

environment in which they can live in a secure and reasonably prosperous way. This divide in moral vision

is at the heart of the shale gas and land use battle now erupting in NB.

          The current federal government is squarely in the first camp, and is determined to make Canada a

hydrocarbon cornucopia. The current NB government sees things the same way. But it is clear from the

opposition to shale gas mining in NB that a large number of citizens do not support this approach to thefuture. And much to the consternation of shale gas proponents, an increasing number of jurisdictions are

putting the brakes on the rush to shale gas fracking.

          If we change course, and muster up the moral leadership to deliberately and systematically gear

down the fossil fuel economy, leaving most remaining oil, gas, and coal in the ground, we have a different

kind of problem ­ the consumer economy will go into subsidence, and we all know that means recession

or even depression.

          What terrible options. It makes you think of Woody Allen’s quip; “More than any other time in

history, mankind faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other, to total

extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly.” Humour has a way of putting things in a

nutshell.

          But there is a clear middle ground for a way out: As the fossil fuel industry is systematically geared

down, all forms of renewable energy can be ramped up as rapidly as possible. Will there be an “energy

gap?” Probably. The transition may well require a controlled subsidence of the consumer economy, but

that hardship can be managed.

          What likely cannot be managed will be the severe ecological repercussions, climate chaos, and

economic breakdown that can be foreseen as the consequence of pushing the hydrocarbon economy for

all its worth for as long as we can.

          We have everything we need to make the transition to a conserver economy based on renewable

energy. We already know from the evidence that investment in energy efficiency and renewable energy

creates far more jobs than investment in fossil fuels. It may take 30 years to make the transition, but the

growth of renewable energy can help create a sustainable and prosperous conserver economy. Moral

leadership invested in this transition will pay long­term dividends.

          Keith Helmuth is a member of the Woodstock Sustainable Energy Group

          Published in the Telegraph Journal, St. John NB, November 26, 2013

WINTER'S WALKING, WAGGING AND WOE

         As I watch the snow flakes quietly drifting by my studio window, it looks as if winter is here to stay.  I've built a lot of snow forts, snow men and had many snowball fights during my younger years but now, since I've become almost as old as winter, I enjoy being inside listening to a crackling fire and having time to do some of the things that during the other seasons I'm too busy to indulge in, like painting and writing.  

          I went for a walk this morning with our fool dog Duncan, I say fool because his attention span is very short - I start out on the walk with him running ahead but we seldom arrive home at the same time because he has lingered too long at the base of a tree watching a squirrel, which is well out of reach, scolding him for being such a nuisance or the scent of a passing coyote has tickled his nose and caught his fancy.  He's a happy dog; his tail is always wagging and if I didn't know better, it looks as if he smiles, and then again, perhaps he does.  As per usual, we started out together on this morning's walk but he was soon distracted by something in the forest and I didn't see him until I returned home about an hour later.  I don't mind that he gets lost in his own little world because it seems, I'm not much different in that respect.  My mind generally wanders on these walks and often, I lose track of time.

          Time is something I no longer have too much of; at age 72, it's a real crap shoot - so far I've been rolling sevens and elevens, doubling my bets and cashing in - sooner or later though, snake-eyes are going to turn up, stare me in the eyes and tell me that the game's over; I lose.  As I look back over the years at my life, I'd be a fool to say I don't have any regrets; that would be like saying I've never made any mistakes; I've led a perfect life.  No, I've made mistakes, plenty of them and unfortunately, some of them I've repeated over and over again throughout the years.  I've made several really big error judgments and one of them that still really bothers me, although at the time because the word "success" had been preached at me from day one, I thought I was doing the right thing.  Even now, if I had continued the way I once was, I would be considered a "success" by most people's standards.  It didn't take me till I was an old man to realize that I had gone down the wrong path; the search for wealth and the easy life is a pathway leading to hell on Earth.  And that's what I find so disturbing now.  So many people throughout the ages have jumped at the chance to pursue riches beyond their dreams and expectations and because of this, I believe the whole world, like my life, is at the very edge of its endurance, perilously at its end.  The Bible tells us that "the meek shall inherit the Earth" and people are awaiting the "second coming of Christ" but hell, if He doesn't show up very soon, there will be no Earth to inherit and there won't be a person still living to greet Him.

          As I wandered down to the lake this morning, everything looked very normal but then when I looked more closely at my surroundings, I realized the trees in the forest looked like mere toothpicks in comparison to the way a forest is supposed to be and what I find unbelievable about their appearance is that the forests are still being logged; when will it stop?  When there isn't a twig left standing; that's when.

          The snow has stopped falling but a slight breeze is still blowing; a tree's outstretched limbs tickling the belly of an overhead cloud can be seen just outside my window.  It's not as quiet as it should be at the base of Green Mountain in Fosterville because I can hear the drone of a chain saw in the not too far distance; a harbinger of more to come and I feel a sadness overcoming me as winter demands its attention - cheers, eh!        

CAT TALES

Finnegan

          A week has passed since I last saw my friend Finnegan the cat.  Like our dog Duncan, he followed me around and even came on long walks with me.  Sometimes I would pick him up and carry him for awhile, not because he was tired out, he just felt good in my arms.  Since we had a wee snowfall a little while ago, I've noticed a lot of coyote tracks, I guess they're hoping to get their chops on our chickens but so far, thanks to the dog I expect, they haven't come near the chicken coop.  Although Finnegan was a great hunter, mice and squirrels being part of his diet, since he was an outdoor cat and bedded down in the garage or barn, I expect the hunter became the hunted; Finnegan most likely ending up as some other predator's dinner in the forest.  I would sometimes meow to him and we would have these great conversations in cat language; it's odd, he certainly seemed to understand a few English words but I never new one cat word, at least what it meant.  I've never been a great cat-lover, especially the domesticated, pampered type cat-lover; I've always preferred the outdoor variety.  There was nothing particularly different about Finnegan as far as cats go and as much as he could be a voracious killer of small animals and birds, he was always friendly and looked forward to being petted and cuddled.  

          Over the years, cats have often been a part of my life, whether I wanted one or not.  One of the most unusual cats I had lived in my sign shop to keep the mouse population under control.  He was a mottled grey colour and reminded me of smoke, so I named him Smokey.  I'm not sure how, but I suspect one of the people I had working for me at the time, dropped a 4'x8' sheet of plywood on his tail because one day, I noticed that his tail had an unusual bend and as time went by, the end of his tail broke off, so he only had a short stub.  I don't know how it began but we began playing hide and seek with one another.  We would take turns hiding and looking for each other and I have to admit, we were pretty comical.  I remember one afternoon, I decided to play a bit of a prank on Smokey and hid under a sheet of plywood that was leaning on the wall just around the corner of the shop.  I can still see old Smoke as he warily crept along looking to his left and his right as he came towards me.  And then, when he already reached where I was hiding, I jumped out and yelled boo as loud as I could.  I never saw a cat leap so high into the air and run so fast, but what was truly amazing, Smokey left a trail of yellow piss the length of the shop and out the window.  We were good pals until one day, a boy came into the shop and told me a cat was lying dead by the side of the street up at the corner.  When I asked how he knew it was my cat, he told me about his stubby tail and sure enough, it was old Smoke; he'd been hit by a car and killed.

          I don't know if Finnegan has used up his nine lives but in case he has, all I can say is, R.I.P. Finnegan - cheers, eh!

FIRST SNOWFALL - HERE COME'S WINTER

          Although winter hasn't officially arrived, and I don't think summer ever did, the first snowfall, a harbinger of freezing weather, is now occurring.  Small snowflakes, like miniature paratroopers are dropping out of the sky; countless numbers invading the earth and changing the brownish colours of autumn to white.  Six cords of firewood are neatly stacked in the woodshed; warmth already delightfully radiating from the wood stove in my studio caresses my arthritic joints, and, although not quite ready for the cold months ahead, I am still looking forward to winter.  

          I'd like to think that during the cold winter months, I could just paint and write like the doodler-dabbler that I am, but renovating the upstairs bathroom is going to take up a good portion of my time.  Not that I'm complaining, because building things, since we arrived at Golden Unicorn Farm, has opened up a whole new canvas for me; instead of using a brush and paint, I've been using a hammer and nails.  I'm not just looking forward to turning a tiny, rotting away bathroom into a much larger and luxurious one, the large claw-foot tub I purchased to pamper my arthritic aches and pains makes the project more worthwhile.  I'm hoping the tub will be medicinal and aid me when I expand Sarah's coffee shop in the spring because the way my body feels at the moment, I'm not positive that I can take on such a physical project; putting 2"x8" rafters and floor boards in place is going to be difficult, not to mention applying the metal roof; I'm no longer a young man. 

          The accomplishments I achieved during the summer weren't as many as I had hoped; being laid up with severe back pains and aching knees off and on, took its toll; rendered me somewhat useless.  What I'm hoping for next year is to get the enlarged coffee shop mostly finished by May long-weekend so it can open and when it is completed, I'm going to hang up my carpenter's pouch and use it only for repairs; my building days coming to an end.  Then look out blank canvases and paper; I'm going to have fun!  

          We have a couple of friends, Mike and Judy Saunders living on the edge of a nearby lake during the summer.  They invited us down for a few drinks the other night, before they leave for Victoria, BC; a more pleasant environment during the winter.  We had a great time, and me, not much of a wine connoisseur or imbiber, preferring to drink beer, knocked back way more wine than I should have.  I felt great; my whole body warm and saturated with wine, that is until I stood up to go home; wouldn't you know it, I toppled over and at this age, falling down could be seriously dangerous, many people breaking their hips.  Sarah thought I'd hurt myself but I didn't feel anything; most likely numbed by my alcohol intake.  And to make things even worse, when I stepped out of the car upon arriving home, I fell down again.  I still never felt any pain even though I have a slight lump on the back of my head.  No, no pain; not until the next morning.  Fortunately I don't get hangovers but my body, not being as supple as it used to be, doesn't bounce anymore, the old joints sure played hell with me.  I feel pretty good today and was planning to clean out the chicken coop but not just because it's Sunday, I think I'll have a sort of take the day off, give myself a little more time to heal.  I mean what's the rush; I left a booming city to attain a more casual lifestyle; tomorrow's another day; I'll clean out the chicken coop then - cheers, eh! 

          If you would like to read a very short, 500 word story about my mom that I wrote for Canada Writes on the CBC, check out this link  http://www.cbc.ca/books/canadawrites/2013/11/call-for-submissions-bloodlines.html#mid=13782269&offset=5&page=&s=         

A VERY SHORT STORY ABOUT MY MOM ON "CBC WRITES"

          The CBC is having a writing contest, which is titled "Bloodlines" and anyone can enter.  Since both my wife and I enjoy writing, we each entered a short story, which can't be over 500 words and if you are fast reader like me, the stories are not ones you would read while sitting on the toilet, not unless you were suffering from diarrhea - then the story and your business would most likely be concluded at the same time.  Personally, I prefer a lengthy novel while dropping a steaming 16-coiler, because then if I haven't finished the story, I can at least bend the corner of a page to mark my place, or if what I've read is utterly boring, I can use the pages I've read to tidy up my behind.     

"Mom"

          I chose to write about my mother, especially since we have the same blood, very red blood I might add.    The photograph of my mom was taken when she married my dad and as you can see, she was a very pretty woman.  Although the story does mention my father; it's more about my mother, so that's why I removed him from the photo, besides he didn't look too happy that day; perhaps he had a premonition of what was to come. or perhaps, since he was a professional gambling man, he was wondering how to cut the honeymoon a little short so he could get into a good game of poker.   Anyway, if you would care to read about my mother, just a snippet that is, I'd be grateful and especially grateful if you left a comment.  Here's the link to Bloodlines http://www.cbc.ca/books/canadawrites/2013/11/call-for-submissions-bloodlines.html#mid=13782269&offset=0&page=&s= and if for some reason it doesn't open, just go to CBC Writes and look for my mom's photo or the title Transformation.  Hope you enjoy the read - cheers, eh!  

MY BIRTHDAY, DAUGHTER, FIRST SETTLERS LODGE AND A BLOW-OUT-THE-CANDLES WISH

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, 
happybirthday to meeee, and what an old fart, 
I've grown to be!

          I've had another birthday since I last wrote a blog - can hardly believe, after the way I lived during my younger years, that I survived this long to reach the somewhat mellow age of 72.  However, not one to ever be much of a couch potatoe, definitely took a lot of risks, many of them hazardous to one's physical being, I find, even at this elderly age, I still take some risks that could be detrimental to my health like climbing ladders for instance.  In the last year, I've been forced to leap off a ladder about 8' to the ground, when it decided to slide off the side of my studio while I was installing a window about 20' off the ground and the next time about 5' to the ground when a friend of mine quit holding it while it was leaning precariously against a slender cedar tree and I was climbing down with a saw in my hand after cutting off some limbs near the top.  Had I been a younger man, leaping off a falling ladder, which had also occurred several times back then, being spry and nimble, it wasn't much of a problem and if I had broken any bones, I would most likely have healed a lot quicker.  That's the problem now; at my age, a slight fall can be critical to my health and well-being, possibly even fatal, because us old farts just don't heal so well any more.  But still, things have to be done and I can't always pay a younger man to take my place, so like it or not, I still clamber up ladders as if I still thought I was a younger lad but you know what; so what; life in general is a risky business and guess what; often the risks taken, are often well-rewarded.

Daughter and Father

          My eldest daughter Iona, who is actually a few years older than my wife Sarah, flew out from Nanaimo, BC to help celebrate my birthday.  I hadn't seen Iona for a couple of years, so it was wonderful to have her visit for a little while.  While she was here, we all enjoyed a scrumptious-delicious meal at First Settlers Lodge in Maine, US, which was also very neighbourly and hospitable I thought, especially since the owners Steve and Suzan opened up their restaurant, just for us; now how great was that to not only open but also cook and serve us wonderful meals.  Sarah and Jessica baked the carrot cake and we all, including Steve and his wife, enjoyed dessert together, although to tell you the truth, I was already so full, I was at the point of exploding.  Suzan made me wear the cone-shaped hat that you can see perched on my head while we there and I'm not sure if I looked like a colourful aging unicorn or a bright dunce (which sounds a little odd); I suppose in a way, I'm both.

Shrimp Extraordinaire

               As you can see, one of the dishes that was heartily savoured and happily devoured was also a mouth-watering display; all the ingredients being harvested fresh from Steve and Suzan's garden or fished out of the sea; even the bright yellow flower was edible and delicious - what a treat!

          Since Sarah runs a little cafe, here where we live at Golden Unicorn Farm, we are often asked by many of the people who live beside the nearby lake during the summer time, if we know a good place to eat in the not too distant area and we always steer them towards First Settlers Lodge.  It's without a doubt, our favourite place, and how could it not be; the people running the restaurant are totally enjoyable, very hospitable and the food is absolutely excellent; a culinary delight worth experiencing.

            Summer has certainly fled over the hills and sped southwards in a rush - seems like summer barely arrived before it packed its bags and was off again.  And while summer was at times, quite enjoyable, I swear the torrential rains, high winds and brazen thunder storms, which occurred during that season were occasionally almost lethal.  It's a cinch the normal global weather that once existed not so long ago, has now turned for the worst; for the first time in the history of the world when human beings first began to trod upon the Earth, never, not even the World Wars, where our existence looked dire, dismal and doubtful, has mankind been on the edge of total extinction.  I don't know how many people, who can see the possible end approaching, have said to me, "At least I won't be here when it happens."  The way I see it, as old as I am, I may be still alive and if not me, then who; most likely my children and their children will certainly be here to face the significant omens pointing towards the approaching devastating storm that is clearly building just over the horizon.  Whether there will be survivors when the oxygen level is seriously low, water still remains drinkable, if any land still sticks its head above sea level or food is available, I have no idea, but if per chance some are still remaining, I wish them luck.  If I'd blown out all the candles on the birthday cake, my wish would have been for all of mankind to start living in accordance with Nature; she is not our enemy or a friend to be exploited; she is the core of our very existence.  Treat her well and she provides shelter, nourishment and goodness - cheers, eh!                     

BUGS, BIG-BOSOMS - WHEELER AND FEEL-ER

          September arrived on the tail end of a water-logged summer wind and I went from sweating profusely to suddenly freezing; can you believe that Mr. Frost has already came for a visit?  I'm amazed at the abrupt change in the weather conditions, one moment it was so warm all I wanted to do was take a dip in the lake to cool off and now, I'm poking about the closet looking for a sweater to wear just to keep my bones from rattling loose in the mornings.  If I were to divide the year up pertaining to the four seasons here in Fosterville, NB, I'd have to say that we experience 2 months of spring, 1 month of summer, 2 months of autumn and 7 months of winter.  I have no idea why some people go to gyms to work out because all they'd have to do. if they moved here, is shovel snow during the winter and swat bugs the rest of the year to give them plenty of exercise and keep them in shape.  You would think more women would be moving here because continually swatting bugs would enlarge their breasts and shoveling snow would tighten up their tummies; maybe New Brunswick Tourism should promote this idea. 

          My knees must have popped back into place or was that my ears I heard popping because of the sudden atmospheric pressure drop.  Must have been a little of both because my hearing is a little clearer and I was able to kneel down and finish off the laminate flooring in our upstairs bedroom.  All that's remaining to complete the bedroom renovations is build a wall to wall shelf along the window side, put the base-boards in place, a wee bit of painting and presto - she be done!  I'm hoping the weather will be agreeable this month so I can begin shingling my studio and get it completed before the snow flies; probably wishful thinking on my part though. 

  4- Wheeler in Front of the Woodstock Farmer's Market

           Bought myself a 250-Suzuki, 4-wheeler, a week ago from a friend of mine, Lydon Canam, who recently moved from Fosterville to Hartland, NB.  It came with a few goodies, like a winch when I get myself stuck in a big old mud hole, a plow for pushing the snow out of the driveway and a bitch-seat for my big-bosomed gal, if I hunker down real close to the handle bars.  I expect if I haul out my old black leather-motorcycle jacket that I wore back in my biker days, I just might turn an eye or two - people see me coming, probably think to themselves as I drive by, who's that lucky old fart with his head cushioned between two big hooters?  My biking days have been over for quite a few years and when I climbed aboard the wheeler, although it looks similar to a motorcycle, it's just not quite rigged out the same.  When I pulled up at a red light back in the day, tilted my head to the side, gave the driver next to me a Clint Eastwood stare and revved up the bike with a demanding wrist action, you knew rubber was going to burn but somehow pushing my thumb rigorously on the throttle seems a wee bit pansy-like; even women aren't interested in thumb-action.

          Looks as if the sun has punched a few holes through the clouds so I guess it's time to stop my fingers from tap-dancing on the keyboard and get started on the bedroom once again, try and get it finished over the weekend.  However, before I begin working, think I'll head on into the house, pour me a hot cup of java and settle down in my rocking-chair - hmm - might even give my wife a big frontal-hug - gotta love the cushyness of a big-bosomed gal - cheers, eh! 

NEW HOME FOR LUKI AND THE TEPEE

Sarah and Luki

          Seems that things have finally slowed down; not quite so busy anymore.  Sarah's pretty much closed down her wee coffee shop as of yesterday and the Golden Unicorn Arts Festival, although still on people's minds, has ended as well; the last remnants belonging to one of the artisan participants, finally leaving the yard.  However, that being said, already about half a dozen artisans have signed up and picked their spots for the 4th Annual Golden Unicorn Festival being held on Aug. 17, 2014. 

          Most of the leaves are still green but hints of crimson, sienna and ochre are beginning to invade the forest surrounding our little farm.  The days are getting shorter too; the crack of dawn beginning around 6:30am; the rooster's crowing announcing it's prompt arrival.  Fall is definitely in the air. 

          This summer, like the past summer, was really difficult for our Great Pyrenees dog, Luki.  Although the rain fell in torrents; the rain wasn't what bothered Luki; it was the thunder; seemed like every two or three days, the thunder roared and the lightning flashed.  And if it wasn't thundering, summer-time people living alongside the lake set off fireworks almost every night, especially on weekends.  I felt so sorry for the dog because it was driving poor Luki literally insane with fear.  He went from having about an acre of pasture to run around in, to being closed up in the barn at nights, that is until he chewed a huge hole in it, large enough for him to escape.  Luki broke his thick leather collar twice, and a light chain once, trying to get away from the thunder and the fireworks and if that wasn't bad enough, he totally destroyed a chain-link dog kennel too.  Realizing that he was beginning to even fear approaching nightfall, as much as we all loved Luki, we decided to find him another home.  Sarah was fortunate to locate a woman in Nova Scotia who re-homes large dogs because she found him a home on a 200 acre farm, which had similar dogs, which they used to protect their sheep and other livestock.  I took the photo of Sarah as she led Luki around the house for the last time so he could pee everywhere and mark his territory - keep those nasty coons, coyotes and foxes at bay.  I think we should have named Luki, Houdini, because while we were driving him to Nova Scotia and about half way to Canterbury, he tore out the bug screen in the back of the truck and jumped through the window.  Luckily, Sarah managed to get the truck stopped in time and I dread to think what would have happened, if he had done that while we were zooming down the highway.  Luki didn't like being inside a truck or for that fact, inside any vehicle.  Sarah and Jessica were very teary-eyed when they said good-bye to Luki and although I was feeling sad as well, I was happy to see him finally go to a place where he would be allowed to freely roam without the fear of fireworks blasting off all summer long, which was the worst.  I miss Luki's friendly persona and wagging tail but I don't miss those rainy nights when I could hear him yelping to the roar of thunder and fireworks. 

          After having bare poles standing in the yard for a long time, I finally bought a green tarp, cut it to shape and put together the tepee.  The hardest work in making a tepee is skinning the poles; once the tarp was cut, it only took about 15 minutes to put it in place.  Although the tepee is not really erected properly, it was a big hit at the Arts Festival and with the locals.  I'd like to have left it in the middle of the yard so people could enjoy a cup of coffee inside, but it would have narrowed down the space during the festival and perhaps caused a problem for the artisans trying to sell their creations.  I'm not sure if I'll take it down for the winter, because it might be kind of fun to sit out there around the fire when the snow is falling and the wind is howling through the trees.  But it probably would be a good idea to dismantle the tepee and store it over the winter because it would last longer - something I'll have to think about while we enjoy its unusual karma during the fall - cheers, eh!  

          

AMELIA RITCEY - WINNER OF MY DRAW AT THE GOLDEN UNICORN ARTS FESTIVAL

Amelia Ritcey - Winner of the Draw at Golden Unicorn Arts Festival 

           The past two years during our Golden Unicorn Arts Festival (Fosterville, NB) I was usually busy doing a lot of things, other than spending time in my art studio and chatting it up with the public who attended the event.  However, this year, our third year, my wife Sarah insisted that I become like all the other artisans who displayed their work, which I happily did.  As an added attraction, and perhaps for people who can't afford to purchase a painting to hang on their wall at home, I decided to have a draw for one of my Limited Edition Giclees (reproduced painting on canvas).  The winner could select either Moonshine Willy, a rambunctious and spunky unicorn, Akela, the leader of the pack wolves in Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Book or Snow Star, a beautiful white unicorn that can be seen mainly in the winter time roaming around Green Mountain.
  

Moonshine Willy               Akela                           Snowstar

          The winner of my draw, which was held after the Arts Festival ended at the end of the day, was Amelia Ritcey, a pretty little nine year old girl.  Quite a few people submitted their names and phone numbers and when her name was drawn and read out to some of the people still remaining at the festival, she had already gone home.  When I phoned her number, a man answered and sounded somewhat skeptical when I asked to speak to Amelia.  Since she was only 9 years old, he was probably wondering why an old man was calling his daughter.  However, after I spoke with Amelia and then to her father, his voice had changed significantly and everyone was happy.  Since we live quite a distance from Woodstock, Amelia and her family picked up her prize at the Woodstock Farmers Market, which we attend almost every Friday from around 8:00am-1:00pm and that's where the photograph of Ameilia and her prize were taken.  Apparently, while Amelia was at the Golden Unicorn Arts Festival, she was a little disappointed not to have seen any of the unicorns, so I told her that they are very shy and hid out in the forest whenever a lot of people were in the vicinity.  I had a difficult time painting both Moonshine Willy and Snow Star because they didn't like posing for their portraits for long periods of time - they were always looking over their shoulders to see if anyone was around and of course, Willy was almost impossible; he's such a going concern.

 

          Since I'm sure some people were a little disappointed that their name wasn't drawn to win one of the giclee reproductions, I'm holding a Christmas draw at the Woodstock Farmers Market.  Tickets can be purchased at the market in downtown Woodstock or here at Golden Unicorn Farm in Fosterville or online.  The giclees make excellent gifts, so if you can't wait to own one or don't want to try your luck with the draw, they can be purchased for $40.00 each (your choice - either Snow Star, Moonshine Willy or Akela).

          Since it looks as if summer has finally arrived, wasn't completely washed away with the torrential rain storms, guess I better head on outside and get some chores accomplished - hate to say it - but winter aint far away - cheers, eh!

I HAD A BLAST AT THE GOLDEN UNICORN ARTS FESTIVAL

Portion of a Newspaper Ad

          Sarah and I are finally getting a wee break after working towards and hosting our Golden Unicorn Arts Festival; I noticed she had her feet up more than once yesterday during the day while Justin Higgs and I struggled to put a wire-mesh kennel together for perhaps the least bravest guard dog I've ever known.  (Poor old Luki; our 150 lb. Great Pyrenees is afraid of thunder, gunshots and fireworks, perhaps even his own shadow.  He has a heart of gold and a very friendly demeanor but make any kind of a loud banging noise and he's screaming like a little girl and running for cover.)    

          Overall, I'd have to say by the amount of talented artisans who displayed and sold their wares and the talented musicians and singers who entertained the crowd and the amount of people who attended our event; the arts festival was highly successful.  I may have been a little concerned in the morning, while everyone was setting up, since we have free-range chickens, when a woman said, "There's chickenshit here" but being the jovial person that I am, I simply handed her a rake.  Which reminds me, the day before the event, some kids arrived at Sarah's little coffee shop for ice cream cones and immediately began chasing the chickens all over the place and even after Sarah and I told them not to, continued doing so.  Realizing that during the day of our festival, I didn't want 100 chickens loose and causing a lot of havoc, flitting all over the place, because I knew those kids would be attending and for most of the day, I screwed the doors shut.  And yup, it was a good thing I had a little foresight because those dang kids showed up and unlatched the doors of the chicken coop - some people's kids, I tell you!

          Since our first year of having the Golden Unicorn Arts Festival at our place out in the country, in Fosterville, NB, at the base of Green Mountain, each event has drawn more artisans and more of a crowd.  Many of the artisans who attended this year have been here since the first one and already, as soon as the festival ended on Sunday afternoon, some of them signed up for next year's festival.  My wife works very hard to make this event an enjoyable occasion for everyone who attends and like her bubbly good nature, it shows; I heard nothing but good comments; especially how wonderful her baking tastes; absolutely mouth-watering.  Her Sin-Buns (cinnamon buns) are dangerously delightful and I try not to eat too many of them because there's nothing worse looking than a fat-skinny guy - there I'd be; a big round belly with two little skinny arms and two little skinny legs poking out.

          I'm so glad that everyone had such a good time at our arts festival and I would like to thank anyone and everyone that attended, whether they were a participant or an admirer of the many talents, which were displayed around our property on Golden Unicorn Farm.  I do believe there was something for everyone to be enjoyed and perhaps even a little awestruck by what could be seen and heard - the entertainers were of an excellent caliber - some of them returning next year I hope.

          Well, unfortunately, our brave watchdog, while the fireworks were echoing off the ridge from the lake below last night, and even though he was chained inside the barn and could barely reach the fence, managed to wreck the kennel after Justin and I sweated all day to erect that blasted thing, so, instead of writing any more, I'd better go repair the damage - cheers, eh!               

WORK AND FUN

          The sun is climbing high over the ridge and birds can been heard singing merrily just outside my studio window.  My wife, Sarah and her daughter left early this morning, when the roosters began their greeting of the dawn; a red glow in the sky, perhaps the harbinger of a storm.  They have gone to Halifax for a medical check-up on Jessica's collar bone, which was operated on a short time ago; the doctor wants to make sure that it's healing properly.  So, here I sit, gazing out the window, enjoying my solitude before I open the door and put out the sign - Sarah's coffee shop is now open for business.  

          I have a lot to do myself for preparation of our Golden Unicorn Arts Festival, which will be occurring this coming Sunday - our big event of the year - always fun for the artisan participants, the entertainers and of course the people who will be attending the festivities.  However, due to the fact that both of my knees are not working so well, after spending two days on them laying laminate flooring and then my back gave out when I bent over to pick up a small bag of groceries, I'm going to enjoy today just relaxing and conversing with whoever drops in to purchase a cup of coffee and some of Sarah's great baking delights.  Since I've been unable to do any strenuous physical work the past little while, I have been puttering about in my studio, getting all the artwork in order so everything looks neat and tidy and presentable for Sunday's event.

          Being somewhat disabled at the moment, hasn't dampened my spirits even though the torrential downpours has me concerned that even though we are a fair distance inland from the Atlantic Ocean, we may have waterfront property in the not too distant future.  Last winter was so long and snowy-harsh and since spring, if it's still spring time, doesn't seem to want to end, has me wondering if summer has yet to arrive (forget about autumn) and winter will soon be knocking on our doorstep.  The weather outlook for this coming Sunday, seems to be favourable, but that could change in a hurry.  However, I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it will be a good day; a day of enjoyment for all concerned.

          My young and hard-working friend Justin Higgs came over yesterday to buck up the big silver maple tree that was dropped in the front yard, a little while ago, because it was dying and looking very hazardous, especially since we've had some fairly violent wind storms lately.  It was a hot day to split and stack firewood and I could see by Justin's sweat-soaked T-shirt that some cold beers were in order.  We always have pretty good conversations and I'm delighted by his interest in the environment and some of the other topics we sometimes discuss because I can't believe how many of the other people who live out here and I talk with, they almost seem to be wearing blinders - the biggest line I hear is - well, when the whole world goes for a shit, I won't be here; I'll be long gone by then.  What I don't understand is; who do they think will still be living here if, or I should say, when the shit hits the fan - if not them, then most likely their children or their grandchildren; that's who!  We have been so brainwashed into thinking only about the economy, which is usually very destructive, instead of embracing ecology; like I told one person the other day, we can't eat or drink oil.  Justin has been considering growing a large garden and I have to take my hat off to him if he does that because not many young people would think an endeavour like that was very ambitious, especially when most of them have been conditioned to believe pushing paper and tapping on a keyboard is a form of work.  Digging, weeding and constant tending of a large garden is work; back-breaking, sweaty work; but the rewards of planting a seed, watching it grown and then harvesting it is very rewarding; nothing like a full belly at the end of a day.  I would really like to plant a large garden and as much as I dream about it's nutritional values, no harmful pesticides and modified chemicals added to aid the growth, I just don't think my back is physically capable of doing such a thing.  The only way I can consider having a garden would be to plant a raised-garden, so I wouldn't have to get down on my hands and knees or bend over too far and that's something I've been really considering.

          Dang!  The morning is passing by quite rapidly; even though I've been busy since 5:30 this morning, I see by the time that I will have to open the coffee shop very soon.  Guess I better head out to the chicken coop to gather up the early eggs and then head into the house and put on the coffee - even if no one shows up this early, I think I'm about ready to have one - cheers, eh!

          

FLICKER THE WOODPECKER AND THE SILVER-BIRCH TREE

The Flicker's Escape - with a little help from his friends.

          Several days ago, while working on the computer in my studio, I heard a strange sound.  For a moment, I thought it was one of the chickens scratching just outside the door but why would it be scratching away on what sounded like metal is what had me stumped?  It took about a day to figure out where the noise was coming from because every time I searched for the noise, whatever was causing it, suddenly became very quiet.  However, eventually I discovered it was coming from inside the stovepipe; a bird must have landed on the top of the chimney and although it has a cover, must have fallen inside.  The part, which really had me scratching my head was, since the stove pipe goes straight down to the wood-stove, is why hadn't the bird fallen all the way to the bottom.  Unfortunately, at the time, after spending two days laying a laminate-floor in our upstairs bedroom, my right knee had given out and I was in a great deal of pain; hardly in any shape to climb up on the stove and separate the metal stovepipe.  What to do, was the big question?

          And then - flash - kaboom - what I thought was a good idea, came to mind.  Since I'd hired my good friend Justin Higgs to dig a trench from the house to my workshop with his Bobcat excavator so an electrician could install 220V wiring for the heavy-duty, 16" band-saw I'd recently purchased, I asked him for his help.  What should have been a simple job, turned out to be anything but simple.  Usually, all a person has to do is unscrew a couple of screws and separate the lengths of stovepipe but because of the weight of the double-walled pipe, acting as a chimney, the weight forced the stovepipe together so tightly, it was impossible to dismantle.  Finally, after cutting the chimney apart with an electric grinder, Justin was able to pull the stovepipe out and release the bird, which turned out to be a Northern Flicker, a medium-sized member of the woodpecker family.

          The flicker, since it must have been exhausted from maintaining itself from falling all the way down the chimney, not having anything to drink for two or three days and then being held in two big hands, didn't have much energy to fly off.  After giving the thirsty flicker a drink, I placed it in a small pen in the chicken coop before phoning my friend Gary Stairs (member of a bird association).  When he arrived, he let the bird loose and although it flew a fair distance away, I told him to take it to his place and release the bird into the forest, otherwise our cat Finnegan would make short work of it.  I imagine, after finding itself enclosed in an empty Moosehead beer case and finally released near Grand Lake, our friend Flicker must have had one big strange tale to tell his friends and family once he flew home.

Bill Leeman Holding the Ladder While Ronnie Fish Begins Sawing Down the Dying Silver-Birch and Justin Higgs Eyeing the Gap in the Cedar Hedge Where the Tree Once Grew.

          As much as I hated to remove the big old silver-birch from the front yard, it was a potential and perhaps lethal accident waiting to happen.  I'd considered just removing the huge dead limbs from the tree but because the bark at the base of the tree was easily removed with just a person's hands, I decided the whole tree should come down, especially since in two weeks time, my wife and I would be hosting our 3rd Annual Golden Unicorn Arts Festival - about 400-500 people attended last year's festivities.  Some of the wind storms we've been having lately had me more than a little bit worried about the safety of the artisans and the people attending our event.  

          I have a real feeling for trees and their important existence in their quickly disappearing, not-so-healthy environment, so it was a difficult decision to make.  Although I've never attended any activist gatherings to protect the forests from barbarous clear-cutting, I'm not afraid to mention, even if it makes me sound like I'm some kind of sissy, that I've literally hugged more than one tree in my lifetime.  I don't know how the trees felt about being hugged but it made me feel good.  And speaking of trees, I once had about half a dozen huge poplar trees growing along the front of my yard in Nanaimo, BC, much to the chagrin of my next door neighbour, who, being an Albertan, wouldn't have been happy until everything standing higher than a wheat field had been cut down.  I couldn't believe it one day when I came home early, a city-crew were about to cut down the trees (no doubt the neighbour had put them up to it).  The boss of the outfit went on and on about how they were a hazard but finally shut up and drove off when I told him I was heading into the house to phone my lawyer.  I also gave the neighbour a piece of my mind, told him that as long as I lived where I was, those trees were going to remain where they were.  Although I have to admit there was one hell of a lot of leaves to rake up every autumn, I got great delight watching my neighbour raking up the leaves in his yard - because as odd it seems, the majority of them landed there.  

          This morning, while looking out the window at the stack of wood, which had once been the living silver-birch, I watched a flicker poking around in the bark.  I couldn't help thinking that perhaps it was the same little bird that had been trapped in the stovepipe and its presence cheered up the sadness I was feeling for the tree - cheers, eh!       

10"x12" Hand-Lettered Sign

          Here's a little sign I painted a few days ago - Gwen was giving it to her husband for a birthday gift.  Since there wasn't much money to be made, I lettered the whole sign in what I call "bash", a font that takes very little time to letter with a brush.  Gwen was very happy with the results, which always makes me feel good; a job well done.  When we have our Art Festival happening in a little over 3 weeks, I'm considering setting up my 1Shot sign paints and some small, stained 3"x8" wooden blanks to see if I can earn a few bucks "bashing" out people's names - 2 bucks a word doesn't seem unreasonable to me - could be fun.

8'x8' Pictorial Sign

          Another sign I painted recently was for the Farmer's Market in Woodstock.  As you can see, I used another form of "bash", which is quick to letter, which allowed me more time on the pictorial.  Like the other sign, since it was almost free/gratis and because of the lack of time I had to do the job and because my wife Sarah and I are a part of the Market, it was a good deal for all concerned - it took 8-10 hours to produce.  Looking at the finished sign now, I'm thinking of taking my sign paints next week - a thicker black line and a shadow on the lettering and pictorial just might spark it up a bit more, which is something I can quickly manage.  Besides, on Fridays, when we attend the Farmer's Market, I often just sit around, so painting a little bit will help pass the time a little quicker.  I should also mention that while I was painting this pictorial, a woman came up to me and asked if I painted on walls - ah duh - "I'm painting on a wall", I said to her.  OOPS - Just noticed I wrote about this sign already - oh well, you know old guys - they just go on and on and on and on - hahaha.  

          Writing this blog about painting signs, my son in law James Starr, who designs websites and lives in Toronto said, "Sign painting is making a comeback.  Many people are getting tired of the generic look produced by vinyl computerized lettering."

          To which I replied, "I don't really care - I'm not too interested in painting any more signs, at least in a commercial manner."  I certainly can't complain about lettering signs because I made a very good living doing it at one time - had a pretty major sign and graphic shop at - employees coming out the ying-yang, lots of equipment, major clients, etc.  I kind of like it now and I suppose being almost 72 has something to do with it as well - I like looking after chickens, building stuff and puttering around in my art studio; couldn't imagine going into business again.

           One last showing of my arctic documentary remaining - August 3rd.  Have four people committed to it so far, so there are still a few seats remaining.  If anyone is interested in seeing my little adventure film, please feel free to get in touch - as an added bonus, wine and cheese and other goodies will add to the good fun, when I answer any questions regarding the video.  So until I write the next blog - cheers, eh!

  

2 NIGHTS REMAINING TO SEE MY DOCUMENTARY

       
          July 20th, the first night showing of my documentary, Arctic Odyssey (I don't like to blow my own horn but toot, toot) went really well I thought; the Washington Post and New York Times have written "rave" and "standing ovation" articles about the video and Hollywood has been pestering me to make a full length movie starring Brad :Pitt as my character.  Although the proposition is in the high millions, I had to turn them down; I mean Brad Pitt, come on; I'm holding out for the starring role.  However, all kidding aside, the people who attended the first showing really did seem to enjoy the documentary; even laughed out loud several times.  I thought I could squeeze 10 people into my art studio quite comfortably but have since decided that an audience of 6 or 7 would most likely be a better number - have to take myself into account as well.  Although some people have already purchased tickets for the next 2 documentary showings of Arctic Odyssey, there is still some seats available on either July 27th or Aug. 3rd.
          Oh, oh - time to stop writing this blog - I see some members of the press and a line of people forming outside my studio door; they're most likely waiting for an interview and my autograph - mustn't disappoint my fans - cheers, eh!

COME SEE THE PREMIER OPENING OF MY DOCUMENTARY VIDEO - ARCTIC ODYSSEY - SAILING THE NORTHWEST PASSAGE

       
          I've had a few people ask if I ever had a video made regarding the sailing voyage in 1995 through the Northwest Passage, when I crewed aboard Dove III, quite possibly the smallest sailboat to do so in a single season?  And the answer is yes; I made a documentary video about our voyage several years ago.  However, because I'm not one to promote myself or my creative abilities on a wide basis, tend to keep things to myself, only a handful of people have actually ever seen the video.  However, although I'm still somewhat of a shy guy and some of the people who may attend are my friends, I'm thinking, watching the video and having a little chat afterwards over a glass of wine and some goodies, just might be a fun time.  I'm keeping the attendance down to 10 people because the size of my art studio is quite small.  And for that reason, the tickets have to be sold beforehand and we have to know, which evening is the most suitable for you.  Tickets can be purchased where I live at Golden Unicorn Farm - 115 Forest City Road or at the Farmer's Market in Woodstock on Fridays.
          Besides making the video, I also wrote a book, Arctic Odyssey, which I fully illustrated with pen and ink drawings.  The video, book and artwork of the sailing voyage will be on sale after the presentation.
       
           Arctic Odyssey (book, autographed by Winston Bushnell - skipper and the author)  $20.00
           Arctic Odyssey (video)    $10.00
           Artwork        Prices Vary 

    Books and Videos are available any time but SHIPPING is EXTRA.

          Although the voyage took place almost 20 years ago, I would like to mention that it was one of the highlights of my life.  It was an exciting, dangerous and yet relaxing time - looking back, I'm still in awe of the harsh beauty of the arctic seascapes and landscapes and will always be grateful for the generous hospitality of the people living in the northern hemispheres who opened their homes to three, often times, hungry, thirsty and unwashed sailors - cheers, eh!      

SIGN PAINTER LENNY

8'x8' Sign

          My wife Sarah and I are involved with the Farmer's Market in Woodstock, NB. where she sells her baking, other culinary wares and eggs and I sell my artwork, books and cards.  Almost every Friday, we travel to the market place in old "Buddy" (3/4 ton diesel truck) - it's my big day out once a week, whether I need one or not.  Last Friday, I finished lettering a sign on the wall, which took about a day and a half to produce.  It seemed a little odd to drag out my old lettering brushes to paint the wall because it was something I hadn't done for quite a few years but I guess it's like riding a bicycle, once a person learns how to do it, they never forget.  Since there are quite a few farmers and crafts people that sell their wares at the market, I had quite a few requests regarding the contents of the basket and what was strewn about it.  Unable to please everyone, I just pretty much painted anything that I thought would be appropriate and hopefully there won't be any noses out of joint when they see the finished product.  I have to admit as much as I enjoyed lettering signs over the years, I always just looked at the profession as a bread and butter situation and hardly ever got excited about the results.  I've painted a lot of different things and one of the largest and most unusual advertisements I was commissioned to paint was a gigantic blimp in the shape of an orca - Ruthy the Rutherford Whale, which once it was up in the air, didn't seem to look that big.

          The other day, a friend of mine asked me to letter some plywood boards, which he had painted with white enamel.  He was hoping I would do something very creative with them but the content was so generic, which many directional signs are, I told him that I was just going to apply lick n' stick vinyl letters to the boards because the signs were just too boring.  Also, if I had done a real number on them and then hit him with a price, his nose would most likely have been more out of joint - after all - anyone who brings me rough plywood boards (that will be lucky to hold up in the weather for a year) they've painted themselves, tells me they are already trying to save money.  And unfortunately, since the boards were so rough, the vinyl letters wouldn't stick to them.  But since I can be an ornery, cussed old guy at times, I just cut some coraplast blanks, which were the same size as the boards and applied the lettering to them so he can either screw them to the boards or whatever else he likes.  Either way, I'm finished with them.

          And talking about being an ornery and cussed old guy (I was a younger guy then) I once took a sign order over the phone to hand letter some large paper banners for a sale.  When I delivered them to the store in a shopping mall, the man of East Indian descent (no reflection on his race because I did work for other East Indians and had some good friends as well) after looking at them, told me the signs weren't what he had ordered and offered, because I had put so much work into them, to pay me only half the agreed price.  Since I was mainly out my time for lettering the signs, hardly any money tied up in materials, I said, "Fine," as I tore them in half and started walking towards the door.  The look on his face was priceless, worth more than the signs as I walked out of the door, looking over my shoulder, leaving half of them lying on the floor and continued saying, "If you decide to pay the full price, I'll bring the other half back."  Thinking back to that time, still puts a gigantic smile on my face, which goes to prove, it's the small things in life that are more meaningful and have more value - money isn't always cracked up to be what it's supposed to be, and clearly, the dollar bill meant a lot to that storekeeper than it did to me - cheers, eh!       

I'M A CONCERNED PARENT - ARE YOU?

         Lately, the weather feels a lot like summer, so I'm hoping it has finally arrived and that it will not be too short.  I have a fairly lengthy, sweaty outside job; shingling my studio without having to deal with a swarm of pesky mosquitoes is awaiting.  I've still been renovating our bedroom upstairs and we're hoping to make use of it before too long.  Also, since Sarah's daughter Rachel moved to Lethbridge, Alta., and the upstairs bathroom is in desperate need of repair, I'm going to rip it apart and expand it into her sister's (Jessica) bedroom.  For someone who has done very little carpentry work over the years, I find it all to be rather challenging but a good sense of accomplishment once a job is finished.  I just tell people not to look too close at my work; I describe myself as an ad-lib carpenter, a Mr. Fix-it (fix my own mistakes).
          Just when I thought all the hoopla was over concerning graduation, the Fosterville Community Centre held a breakfast for next year's graduates.  I arrived somewhat late with a couple of friends of mine and as I sat munching away on my scrambled eggs, bacon and hash-browns, I noticed a man who looked rather familiar making the rounds so to speak and shaking hands with people as he went.  It was none other than the Premier of New Brunswick, David Alward.  When he sat down across from me and my friend George, I was wondering how long it would take before my friend would say something to him and I was amazed when he just said, "I should say something.  My friends and I wrote a letter to him in April and I would like to know if he received it and what his views are concerning sustainability."  But he didn't say a word, which is unusual for George, who has personally confronted more than one politician and put them on the spot.
          I have to admit, I felt a little disappointed when we stood up to leave and George hadn't made his presence known.  However, I wasn't to be disappointed for long because the Premier had decided to leave at the same time and as he was headed towards the door, George decided to speak up.  When he asked David Alward if he'd received the letter, he said no and that he would look into it and make sure he read it.  I don't quite remember how their discussion went after that but somehow the subject of fracking came up; a very sore point for both George and I.  Now my ears really perked up because I wanted to hear first hand, right out of the horse's mouth so to speak, the Premier's views on fracking.  The first thing David Alward said was, "You'll notice there's been no fracking while I've been Premier."  He mentioned this same line about three times in the conversation and to me, it meant either one of two things.  He was either against or for fracking.  I was hoping it meant that he was against fracking, on the side of what I believe is the majority of the people living in New Brunswick but when he said his son was working in the Alberta oil sands and wouldn't it be nice if he could be doing the same job here, I immediately knew where he stood.  I lost all respect for our Premier at that point and when he went on to say as if we were exoected to look up to him, "While I've been Priemier, only seismic testing has been going on in New Brunswick."  I couldn't believe a man who is supposedly a farmer, someone who should be in touch, in tune and in sympathy with the land would promote such a desecrating and devastating industry such as fracking to be one of his prime political objectives.
          The Premier, David Alward also stated that fracking has become safer since its beginnings and that scientists are coming up with better ideas all the time to make it an even safer industry.  So what gets me; knowing that fracking is a dangerous industry and that he is in favour of such an endeavour; he seems more like a yes-man Premier and one with very shallow convictions.   However, to my way of thinking, especially after the extreme flooding of Calgary, if that flood had occurred in the oil fields and the toxic liquids had washed into the main waterways, a great part of Alberta could become a deadly wasteland and the people living there would all be well on their way to becoming like the dinosaurs on display at Drumheller, Alta.
          It appears that Toronto had a flash flood (not as bad as Calgary's) and I'm concerned about the safety of my daughter and her family.  It's pretty obvious mankind has been steadily destroying the environment (doesn't take an intellect or a smart person to realize that) and to keep on promoting problematic, highly toxic and dangerous industries such as fracking and creating pipe lines, which will destroy a great portion of the remaining ecological balance of the land across this country, in order to create jobs and keep a fictitious thriving economy alive, doesn't make any logical sense to me.  Like many parents, even an elderly guy like me who has been told by many other people my own age, "I won't be alive long enough to see what happens" (a real cop-out) I'm deeply concerned that the inheritance I'm leaving my kids and their kids, regarding world ecological conditions, is looking extremely bleak.  I mean how many people have you the reader actually heard, "What does it matter, I won't be here when everything goes for a big shit.?"  And how do they know that - I mean someone will be here to face the music and who's to say that even though I'm almost 72 years of age, I won't be here when that invent occurs?  And on that cheery note - cheers, eh!
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