It's the 4th of July, American Independence Day, which is like our Canada Day, July 1st - the only difference is we say, "Happy Canada Day" and they say, "Happy 4th" - because all the rest of the hype is pretty much the same, waving flags, politicians patting each other on the back, exploding fireworks and forever saying proud to be this and proud to be that, etc., etc. Like every other country before them, there's been countless ship-loads of blood (mega-times larger than the ill-fated Titanic) spilled to draw the imaginary lines that designate the ownership and borders of the US, Mexico and Canada - even states and provinces. Here, where I live, on 50 acres of semi wilderness land, I also have imaginary lines mapping out our property's borders but hopefully, there wasn't any bloodshed, maybe a little cursing and perhaps still cursing whenever someone crosses over to blast away at a forest creature or cut down a tree.
There was a time, when I was a typical worshiper of the almighty dollar and just couldn't grab enough of the little sons-a-bitches to bolster up my bank account, actually accumulate more than any one person should really have; yeah, I was a greedy little bastard. And even now, when I look around at all the stuff I have, especially since so many people in the world have so little, I still feel that way to a certain degree. However, one thing I didn't do and I'm thankful that I didn't, because I believe a person wasn't meant to just idly sit on their ass in the lap of luxury when they reached their golden-moldy years, have one big-ass holiday because that's what a person gets when they stop working and wind up sitting in a big old, well-padded, cozy recliner in front of a screen (TV or computerized) and that was to put a comfortable retirement package in place. At this age, 72, knocking real loud and hard at the door, I'm a busy little guy. I don't have a whole load of ambition to chase the almighty buck any longer; as long as I can earn a few of them with my talents, I'm a pretty happy guy. I learned the hard way that earning money (although I can't imagine what it would be like with absolutely none), to the point of becoming a millionaire, which was once one of my leading priorities (if not the leading one) in my younger years, should never have become such a life-consuming objective.
I'm not retired; I'm just tired. It's odd, I was just sitting outside with my wife Sarah enjoying a cup of coffee, having a wee chin-wagging session about what we've been doing out here since we left lotus-land on the west coast of BC a few years ago. With what little income we had coming in every month: old age pension and pensions from time put in working at job-jobs over the years, we figured we had enough monthly income to actually squeeze by without having to work at a job-job. But there must be something wrong with us or perhaps it's the whole human race; we never seem to know when enough is enough. Like, when I really think about my own basic needs, I believe I've got all the bases covered; food and water in my belly for sustenance, a roof over my head, fuel for warmth against the elements and yes, even at this creaky old age; sex. So what more do I really need; all the rest just seems to be extras and for what end? I don't believe it's really called for that parents should keep on accumulating wealth so they can leave it to their kids when they die, especially since most kids did bugger all for the family needs when they were growing up; it's up to them, just like any other creature in the world; they have to learn to make their own way. There's nothing wrong with helping out but to leave huge quantities of property, cash, stocks and bonds, huge life insurance policies, shit-loads of other assets behind when you die, so whoever receives it all, can just add all that stuff to the stuff they have already accumulated, seems a touch ludicrous to me.
When I was a rather prominent business man, I once had a life insurance representative approach me about investing in a life insurance policy, which I easily could have afforded at the time. Just seriously take a moment to think about that statement, which I did at the time, and here's what I told him. I said, "I really can't see the profit in investing in my own death." To which, he had no answer, just sort of shuffled some papers he was hoping I would sign, stuttered and mentioned stuff about making sure my wife and loved ones were well looked after when I was gone; tried to make me feel guilty, which I have to add, I sort of did. At one time, I used to sell antiques (mostly furniture) from a storefront, while I painted signs in the back. When a customer would come in and sometimes a friend was visiting, he would say, "Don't you think you should try to sell them something?" I'd just say no, they know where I am if they're interested in buying anything. I quite often sold antiques to people who didn't have enough cash at the time. I just let them make payments (no interest charges or storage fees) until it was paid for. I guess some people wanted to pay for it right away so they borrowed the money from a bank or some other institute because one day, this guy showed up and wanted me to make it easier for the customers to buy my stuff by setting up a loan program. He seemed a little offended and mystified, when I said no, wasn't interested in the least, just said, "If they can't afford to buy what I'm selling, then they shouldn't be buying it.
Geesh, I'm beginning to sound like all the other old farts like me, I just keep rambling on and on; don't seem to care if anyone is listening (or in this case reading). It's time for me to shut up - cheers, eh!
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Thursday, June 20, 2013
FINNEGAN THE CAT, STEAK AND HAMBURGER - THE TWO HEIFERS
Finnegan - Our Cheshire Kitty
Life on the farm aint half bad says Finnegan the cat. I got me the run of the place, all the measly mice, squirmy squirrels, buxom birds and any other rascally rodent I can creep up on and sink my sharp little fangs and claws into - rip the little buggers to shreds and pick my teeth with their bones. And, since I do a lot of napping, I have a lot of cozy little nooks I can curl up into and dream about all the tasty little morsels that hang around this place they call Golden Unicorn Farm and why they call it that is beyond the tip of my long sensitive whiskers; I've got eyes as sharp as an eagle's and I aint yet seen a single unicorn around this place. But then again, I'm a feisty, furry, frisky feline, a real predator and they've most likely heard about my persistent pussy prowess; I'm a tiger in disguise and they're most likely scared of me. I must be the toughest critter around here on four legs, even the dog cowers and yelps like a baby whenever the heavens start thundering, fireworks go blasting off into the sky and someone dressed in camouflage goes tripping by like Mr. McGoo after a wascally wabbit and fires his rifle. Yeah, I'm tough, I'm tough, rough and tough like a tom cat should be. The critters around here don't call me tom - I'm Mr. Tom to them. The people who live here think that I'm being affectionate with them when I saunter on over, purring my own personal song (should actually put it to music and become a rock star) and rub my body sensually along their legs; they aint figured it out yet; that's the best way to get rid of my winter's hair; sticks like glue to their pants. Well enough said about me, think it's time for me to find one of my choice beds - ah yeah, under the metal roof on Lenny's studio is one of my favourites - talk to you again some time.
Limousin Feeder Heifers
My friend Justin Higgs and I bought us a couple of heifers last Monday at the auction. They're noted for their muscular bodies - not sure about their disposition or brain power but that doesn't matter. I don't particularly want to be their friend or enroll them later in Cattle University. Now some people like to be real friendly like with their cows and give them cutesy names like Flossie, Elsie or Cowlick Harry but the names that seems to fit these two the best are Steak and Hamburger. I imagine a lot of people think I have no feelings and that I'm cruel to have these sort of thoughts; I only really care about how good they will smell roasting on a bar-b-q and then slapped down on my dinner plate, alongside a baked potatoe and some succulent greens - maybe wash it all back with an ice cold beer. A person can't get all emotional and too attached but I, and I expect Justin will be the same, will treat them with respect and look after all their needs while we have them for a short time before they head on off to the slaughter house and come back home gift wrapped in brown paper. I know, I know, I think it's somewhat sad and savage as well, but I have a couple of teeth sharp as a wild animal's k-nines, jaws of steel and a taste for blood (face it, mankind is the meanest predator this Earth has ever seen - bar nonbe - not even the dinosaurs) and I'm not proud to be that way, but like it or not, I am. The way I see it, I've eaten one hell of a lot of beef during my almost 72 years and whether I have the power to do the critters in myself or the slaughter house has the honors; it's just something that will happen - not quite like going to the local supermarket and checking out all the packaged beef through a clear cellophane wrapper, politely saying please and thank you to the butcher; the end result is the same.
I grew up in Vancouver-town; a great huge city busting at the seams and I made an unusual great deal of money living the city way; slabs of beef, cooked to perfection by chefs with high culinary skills, were set before me in lavish manners many times, but fortunately, part of those years touched me in a country style of living and I discovered, now that I'm residing in the country, sort of semi-wilderness country, I'm more in touch with reality, quite possibly more in tune with my actual soul. The paper chase has got nothing on trying to chase a couple of Limousin heifers into the barn. Here in the country, one has to face the weather conditions, feel the heart-beat of the land and its critters, be in sympathy with one's surroundings and appreciate whatever abundance it affords without destroying everything - it's a give/take situation but should never be a love/hate situation. I don't just put in time, work my nine to five and pick up a paycheque, I have to physically maintain a constant appreciation of Mother Nature - her nutrients are my own. That's not to say the annoying ding of a cash register isn't part of my repertoire, it's just that here, it's more of a hands-on experience. Like Finnegan the cat; killing is part of the process of staying alive and like it or not, I have to respect that, and I find, I am no different - cheers, eh!
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
MOOSEHEAD BEER, SOLITUDE AND RANDOM THOUGHTS
It's a rainy afternoon; close to dinner time. However, at the moment, although I'm not hungry, I feel like writing and since I have a powerful thirst for a great tasting beer; that's what I'm doing; writing a blog and sipping a Moosehead, Pale Ale, New Brunswick's finest. Now, how lucky am I to have these simple luxuries and in such a peaceful and serene place as Golden Unicorn Farm, which is situated on 50 acres at the base of Green Mountain; one might say I'm having a Green Mountain high; just relaxing to some comfortable classical music wafting through the studio and enjoying my solitude. It's kind of odd, when I think back through my life, how solitary I've been, even with two wives, six kids and I've lost count of the girlfriends that I loved as well.
The wind is blowing steadily, often with violent gusts and as I watch the harmonious swaying of the trees growing all the way up the side of Green Mountain, the lights sometimes flickering and threatening to go out, like they did last night, while I was sleeping all alone; oblivious to the rain smacking the widow pane just above my head, I am in awe of Nature's freedom and the simple wonders of this planet Earth, which I call home and love and cherish so much. If I could have a wish; peace is not high on my list; there's nothing wrong with a good healthy war to kill off a great many men and keep the population under control. I also suspect, if women had rights equivalent to the men, the population wouldn't be at such an extreme number and the world wouldn't be in as much trouble either.
Ah ha, just what I was worried about, the pesky wind blew out a transformer or knocked a power line down because the power went out for a couple of hours. My lackadaisical mellow thoughts and philosophical pandering somehow have lost their way and as I sit, sipping another Moosehead, I fear the pattern that was shaping up in my mind is now misplaced. It doesn't take much any more to sidetrack me; unless I have an immediate goal that needs fulfilling, I'm apt to meander off like a gentle stream and flow to another source of inspiration.
My wife Sarah is somewhere between here and Halifax with her daughter Jessica, who is now recovering from surgery. Her last Internet message was that she would be taking it slow and easy because of the rain and to prevent Jessica from feeling anymore pain than necessary. At this point of the day, I'm hoping she is not more than a couple of hours away and reaches home before it gets dark. On the narrow, curvy road from the highway to home can be a difficult drive especially if it is during a torrential downpour and a moose decides to cross the road just as the car is coming around a sharp corner. They are huge and very difficult to see; it's unbelievable how quickly they disappear into the forest after crossing the road, even on the brightest sunlit days.
The past winter was very harsh, some of the people I know who tend bee hives, lost their bees. One never thinks too much about bees, especially their usefulness. Being stung by a bee is our highest priority but what I recently learned; the bees are in desperate times; their numbers have dropped dramatically. Scientists say that if the bees disappear, within four years after their disappearance, mankind will join them in their extinction. Extreme winter conditions have always been hard on the bee population but since the crazed use of toxic repellents and the general world weather conditions taking a major turn for the worse; there is no doubt that we humans are in trouble as well. When our so called world leaders start pleading for ecology rather than economy; we will be in real trouble, but unfortunately, it will be too late to recover. Like David Suzuki says, the world is like a car heading for a brick wall and we're all arguing about where we want to sit.
My second Moosehead Pale Ale is down to the last swallow, and although there is room enough inside me for another and I have considered doing so, I think, like writing this blog, I'll just down the last swallow and call it a day - cheers, eh!
The wind is blowing steadily, often with violent gusts and as I watch the harmonious swaying of the trees growing all the way up the side of Green Mountain, the lights sometimes flickering and threatening to go out, like they did last night, while I was sleeping all alone; oblivious to the rain smacking the widow pane just above my head, I am in awe of Nature's freedom and the simple wonders of this planet Earth, which I call home and love and cherish so much. If I could have a wish; peace is not high on my list; there's nothing wrong with a good healthy war to kill off a great many men and keep the population under control. I also suspect, if women had rights equivalent to the men, the population wouldn't be at such an extreme number and the world wouldn't be in as much trouble either.
Ah ha, just what I was worried about, the pesky wind blew out a transformer or knocked a power line down because the power went out for a couple of hours. My lackadaisical mellow thoughts and philosophical pandering somehow have lost their way and as I sit, sipping another Moosehead, I fear the pattern that was shaping up in my mind is now misplaced. It doesn't take much any more to sidetrack me; unless I have an immediate goal that needs fulfilling, I'm apt to meander off like a gentle stream and flow to another source of inspiration.
My wife Sarah is somewhere between here and Halifax with her daughter Jessica, who is now recovering from surgery. Her last Internet message was that she would be taking it slow and easy because of the rain and to prevent Jessica from feeling anymore pain than necessary. At this point of the day, I'm hoping she is not more than a couple of hours away and reaches home before it gets dark. On the narrow, curvy road from the highway to home can be a difficult drive especially if it is during a torrential downpour and a moose decides to cross the road just as the car is coming around a sharp corner. They are huge and very difficult to see; it's unbelievable how quickly they disappear into the forest after crossing the road, even on the brightest sunlit days.
The past winter was very harsh, some of the people I know who tend bee hives, lost their bees. One never thinks too much about bees, especially their usefulness. Being stung by a bee is our highest priority but what I recently learned; the bees are in desperate times; their numbers have dropped dramatically. Scientists say that if the bees disappear, within four years after their disappearance, mankind will join them in their extinction. Extreme winter conditions have always been hard on the bee population but since the crazed use of toxic repellents and the general world weather conditions taking a major turn for the worse; there is no doubt that we humans are in trouble as well. When our so called world leaders start pleading for ecology rather than economy; we will be in real trouble, but unfortunately, it will be too late to recover. Like David Suzuki says, the world is like a car heading for a brick wall and we're all arguing about where we want to sit.
My second Moosehead Pale Ale is down to the last swallow, and although there is room enough inside me for another and I have considered doing so, I think, like writing this blog, I'll just down the last swallow and call it a day - cheers, eh!
Monday, June 10, 2013
SURGERY, GRADUATION AND LIFE GOES ON
The sun has finally burnt away the clouds; if only it had done the same with those pesky mosquitoes. I do believe we've had more than our share of rain and I know the New Brunswick farmers are suffering from the continual deluges - I can't imagine what it was like for Noah when it rained for 40 days and 40 nights - it must have been one heavy unimaginable downpour because it's rained off and on for a long time now and we're still above water.
Sarah and Jessica are in Halifax and will be there for several days. Injuries resulting from a severe automobile accident when Jess was almost three years of age has taken them to Children's Hospital where she will undergo an operation this morning, to help mend a collar bone that never healed properly. Apparently, the surgeon is going to remove a small portion of bone from her left hip and attach it to her right collar bone, which should then hold it in place properly. Jessica is very fortunate to be alive today and in as good as shape as she is, especially since her left arm was almost completely severed at the shoulder and both her legs were broken in the accident. The way she runs and leaps around, except for some major scars, one would never know that she had almost been killed along with her dad on that fateful day on Jingle Pot Road in Nanaimo, BC.
Although that accident changed the lives of Sarah's family, it also changed mine. I had actually been the best man at her wedding and caught her garter, which I believe means that I would be the next to marry - who would have thought years later, after her husband was killed, that I would be his replacement. Not sure if way back when in the days of yore, if that was the best man's duty or not, but if it was, I guess I filled the bill.
Summer is almost upon us and the "Lakers" are now in full swing, returning to their "camps" or cottages that are quaintly tucked around the lakes. Since Sarah opened her wee coffee shop a few weekends ago (only open on weekends), some of their friendly, smiling faces are beginning to brighten our doorway once again. I filled in for her yesterday and although it was a cloudy, somewhat dismal day, I actually served a few of them, plus some friends like Bill Leeman and his son Brendan - we had a hard on the stomach from laughing so hard, good time. Not sure if Sarah and Jessica will return by the next weekend but if not, guess I'll have to don her apron once again and open up the coffee shop.
Besides Jessica's operation, Rachel, her other daughter, is graduating this year, which to me as far as pomp and ceremony goes, is beginning to rival the Queen's Coronation; one almost needs a royal larder full of gold and priceless jewels to participate in this event. I sometimes wonder if the celebration for graduation is the educational system's way of covering up the lack of education the kids are now receiving. Sadly, from what I can decipher, Rachel's grade 12 is about equivalent to my Grade 10 or lower. The future of our civilization, which is rather calamitous, could possibly be bordering on extinction, I'm just completely bewildered why the government has cut educational development, especially when unfortunately, because of my generation and the next generation's lack of concern for the Earth, this new generation and the one following will be left with hardly any natural resources to carry on - water and food being a premium - we can't drink or eat bloody oil. Rachel has been packing her bags for the past few weeks, since she is leaving home, I believe, the day after graduation. She is moving to her grandma's place in Lethbridge, Alta. and her boyfriend Adrian is going to work in the oilfields. I'm sad to say, I don't have much respect for him to work at such a place, where a huge amount of Alberta has been turned into a toxic wasteland in order to earn a few paltry bucks. But then our poorly managed government and our poor excuse of education have left them and many other young people just as ignorant as the day they began school, so what is to be expected, especially when because of the media and internet these days, they are led to believe that what a person wears and what they drive are somehow the most important things to acquire.
But I ramble and babble on, and why bother says I, only a wee few nod their heads in agreement and most can't see, won't see or have never taken the time to see the perils that every living being upon this planet is now facing in a not very distant future. Many believe that science will come up with a solution like the US Cavalry suddenly appearing out of no where when all looks lost. From what I've read, the scientists are telling us to beware and that there isn't any big miracle cure for our survival if we don't make drastic and I mean severely drastic changes to our lifestyles and our way of thinking. Well, before I get too carried away with my rant and write more than anyone will ever care to read on this blog, it's time for me to do some chores around my little world of paradise. I don't look at the 50 acres I bought as ownership - to me, I am the caretaker of what abides here and as long as I live, everything is safe, and I mean everything, right from a blade of grass to a pesky mosquitoe - only natural disasters and of course self-preservation rule here - cheers, eh!
Sarah and Jessica are in Halifax and will be there for several days. Injuries resulting from a severe automobile accident when Jess was almost three years of age has taken them to Children's Hospital where she will undergo an operation this morning, to help mend a collar bone that never healed properly. Apparently, the surgeon is going to remove a small portion of bone from her left hip and attach it to her right collar bone, which should then hold it in place properly. Jessica is very fortunate to be alive today and in as good as shape as she is, especially since her left arm was almost completely severed at the shoulder and both her legs were broken in the accident. The way she runs and leaps around, except for some major scars, one would never know that she had almost been killed along with her dad on that fateful day on Jingle Pot Road in Nanaimo, BC.
Although that accident changed the lives of Sarah's family, it also changed mine. I had actually been the best man at her wedding and caught her garter, which I believe means that I would be the next to marry - who would have thought years later, after her husband was killed, that I would be his replacement. Not sure if way back when in the days of yore, if that was the best man's duty or not, but if it was, I guess I filled the bill.
Summer is almost upon us and the "Lakers" are now in full swing, returning to their "camps" or cottages that are quaintly tucked around the lakes. Since Sarah opened her wee coffee shop a few weekends ago (only open on weekends), some of their friendly, smiling faces are beginning to brighten our doorway once again. I filled in for her yesterday and although it was a cloudy, somewhat dismal day, I actually served a few of them, plus some friends like Bill Leeman and his son Brendan - we had a hard on the stomach from laughing so hard, good time. Not sure if Sarah and Jessica will return by the next weekend but if not, guess I'll have to don her apron once again and open up the coffee shop.
Besides Jessica's operation, Rachel, her other daughter, is graduating this year, which to me as far as pomp and ceremony goes, is beginning to rival the Queen's Coronation; one almost needs a royal larder full of gold and priceless jewels to participate in this event. I sometimes wonder if the celebration for graduation is the educational system's way of covering up the lack of education the kids are now receiving. Sadly, from what I can decipher, Rachel's grade 12 is about equivalent to my Grade 10 or lower. The future of our civilization, which is rather calamitous, could possibly be bordering on extinction, I'm just completely bewildered why the government has cut educational development, especially when unfortunately, because of my generation and the next generation's lack of concern for the Earth, this new generation and the one following will be left with hardly any natural resources to carry on - water and food being a premium - we can't drink or eat bloody oil. Rachel has been packing her bags for the past few weeks, since she is leaving home, I believe, the day after graduation. She is moving to her grandma's place in Lethbridge, Alta. and her boyfriend Adrian is going to work in the oilfields. I'm sad to say, I don't have much respect for him to work at such a place, where a huge amount of Alberta has been turned into a toxic wasteland in order to earn a few paltry bucks. But then our poorly managed government and our poor excuse of education have left them and many other young people just as ignorant as the day they began school, so what is to be expected, especially when because of the media and internet these days, they are led to believe that what a person wears and what they drive are somehow the most important things to acquire.
But I ramble and babble on, and why bother says I, only a wee few nod their heads in agreement and most can't see, won't see or have never taken the time to see the perils that every living being upon this planet is now facing in a not very distant future. Many believe that science will come up with a solution like the US Cavalry suddenly appearing out of no where when all looks lost. From what I've read, the scientists are telling us to beware and that there isn't any big miracle cure for our survival if we don't make drastic and I mean severely drastic changes to our lifestyles and our way of thinking. Well, before I get too carried away with my rant and write more than anyone will ever care to read on this blog, it's time for me to do some chores around my little world of paradise. I don't look at the 50 acres I bought as ownership - to me, I am the caretaker of what abides here and as long as I live, everything is safe, and I mean everything, right from a blade of grass to a pesky mosquitoe - only natural disasters and of course self-preservation rule here - cheers, eh!
Monday, May 20, 2013
A TEEPEE AND ABSTINTHE MAKE THE HEART GROW FONDER
Teepee in Progress
Lt -Rt: My Wife Sarah, Me, My Brother Larry and His Wife Lilia
A couple of friends of mine, Gary Stairs and George Probst and I thinned out a few trees on Gary's property, not last winter but the winter before. As soon as the limbs were cut off, we loaded them into a trailer and hauled them off to my place, with the idea that I would attempt building a Plains Indian's teepee at the end of spring after I had skinned all the bark off them with a draw knife. I believe I skinned about three of them before I had to put it aside to work on more important projects. So, for the longest time, the poles just lay in a pile by the fire pit until my brother arrived with some of his family and a friend for a very short two day visit from Alberta - they were on their way to Halifax, Nova Scotia to attend their daughter's college graduation ceremony.
The night of their arrival, I wasn't surprised to see my brother haul out a good sized bottle of 110 proof Absinthe, which he also brought to my wedding in 07/07/07. Sarah and I had a great wedding, which was held at our friends, Paul and Sharon Niddrie's 2 acre estate in Cedar, near Nanaimo. The reception lasted for about 2 days and we supplied the booze - two kegs of beer and about 100 bottles of wine. I was fine knocking back the beer as fast as a dying of thirst Arab that's just dragged his scrawny ass across 100 miles of burning sand to an oasis containing an unlimited amount of the sweetest water on earth. That is, I was fine until come next morning, Larry hauled out a bottle of Absinthe and we poured it over a sugar cube per single shot and knocked them back with glee. Reminded me of the time a friend of mine Judi De Yoe, who occasionally cut my hair, introduced me to what she called, a Golden Cadillac. Well hell, they went down smoother than a sucked-back snout full of snot and before I knew it, my legs had a life of their own or should I say not much life - standing and talking without slurring was a definite problem. And so it was the same at the wedding.
I easily drank down half of Larry's Abstinthe and was surprised that I was in just as good condition as if I'd knocked back a case of beer (I've had over 50 good years of pounding back beers) but I was sore - my back, hips and hands ached something awful - this being old and plagued with arthritis is just no fun - jobs that at one time were simple are becoming a real chore. Now, by big bro (actually younger brother) looks at my stack of teepee poles in the morning, after breakfast, decides that we should finish skinning them and erect the skeleton of the teepee. I was trying to talk him out of it by saying he should just enjoy his visit and not do any work. But he'd have none of that, just said we could jaw away while we peeled poles. So, after I'd peeled three of them with a hatchet and Larry had done twice that with the draw knife, I had to pack it in because of the pain and the cloud of black-flies hovering around my head. I thought Larry would quit when I walked away but no, there he stood, dressed only in shorts and a T-shirt, just merrily peeling away. Unbelievable; I was, covered head to toe and the black-flies were having a feast on me, while my brother wearing hardly any protection doesn't get so much as a bite. Some say that the black-flies like sweet blood, but at almost 72 years old, there aint nothing sweet about this aging old man.
I'd check on my brother every now and then to see how he was doing but he was a determined man-in-motion to finish skinning the teepee poles and he'd even recruited his daughter Deserai to give him a hand. Well, it wasn't long before the poles were lying naked in a heap and after I lashed three of them together near the top with a long piece of braided rawhide, we had the beginnings of the teepee under way. Didn't take too much longer, we had all the poles in place and roughly spaced to about a 19' diameter. I have to say, it was great to see our efforts, especially my big bro's, finally take shape. Of course, now comes the mind-bending part; trying to figure out the measurements for the tarp to wrap around the teepee's skeleton. I can't be making any serious mistakes in that department because a large tarp is going to be on the pricey side. A lot of people use canvas but since the most natural would be to use buffalo hides, I'm going to use a white vinyl tarp, maybe paint 'er up with some sort of native designs - something that won't clash with the red tuct-tape, I've been told to use.
A friend of mine, Stephen Harvey and his son Mitch just dropped off six cords of firewood this weekend, so I suspect, until I recoup some of that expense, the tarp for the teepee is on hold, and hopefully, the pesky black-flies will no longer be around when I purchase one. It's been a chilly, rainy morning and the studio is definitely on the cool side and since a few friends have dropped into our now open on weekends, Golden Unicorn Farm, tiny coffee shop, I do believe I'll go have a chit-chat with them over a good hot cup of hot coffee- cheers, eh!
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
AKELA - "the great gray Lone Wolf"
"Akela"
Due to a lot of positive response to this painting of Akela, I decided to to have it reproduced as a Limited Edition as giclees, prints and cards. While I was painting Akela, I was trying to think of an appropriate title and having been a "cub" (boy scout) for a short while as a young boy, remembered that it was the name used for the leader of our pack. And, when I recently researched the name, I discovered that Akela is a character in Rudyard Kipling's, The Jungle Book. When I checked out the wolf in the Jungle Book, I discovered the line, "Akela, the great gray Lone Wolf, who led all the Pack by strength and cunning, lay out at full length on his rock, and below him sat forty or more wolves of every size and color", which cinched the title of the painting. To help recoup the costs, the first 10 giclees' of Akela are being offered for the low price of $40.00 each, plus shipping. Also, the first 10 Acid Free Paper prints are available for $10.00 each, plus shipping. This particular giclee, which has been professionally reproduced on canvas using the highest quality inks is 11"x14", the same size as the original acrylic painting. Only 100 gicless on canvas and paper, plus 10 Artist Proofs will be printed, numbered and signed by the artist (me). Included with this Limited Edition of Akela is a Certificate of Authenticity. (The unicorn is a watermark to protect my copyright on the blog and of course is not printed on any of the giclees or prints.)
I'm sure Akela will make an affordable addition for anyone who enjoys wolves and other wildlife. The original Akela was sold before I had even finished painting it. A German friend of mine who watched the painting's progress was so engrossed by the way the wolf's eyes were looking at him simply said, "There's something in his eyes; I would like to buy this painting." I've actually sold a few paintings over the years, before the paint was even dry, which of course always made me feel good. I'm open to commissions, so if anyone is interested in having an idea for a piece of art painted especially for them, don't be shy to contact me and I'm certain we can work out the details and an acceptable cost - cheers, eh!
Saturday, May 11, 2013
"BIG RED", THE ROOSTER - COCK OF THE WALK - EVEN GAVE ME A KICKING I WON'T SOON FORGET
The rain is so heavy at the moment; it sounds like a jack-hammer on the metal roof above my head; but I'm not complaining - hell no - we need rain! Due to our shallow well and with 4 guests arriving tomorrow; my brother Larry, his wife Lilia and daughter Deserai, including one of her friends for a couple of days, I'm hoping there will be plenty of water for showers and such. The rain is very welcome, especially for the farmers since I noticed their plowed potatoe fields were dryer than a popcorn fart; dust blowing everywhere. As I look out the upstairs studio window, I notice the forest is once again green; a growing canopy of young leaves; fiddle-heads, ripe for the picking; ready for canning or the dinner plate - yummy!
It's been quite awhile since I wrote a blog because with the coming of spring; I've been up to the arm pits in yard work and building repairs; winter forever taking its toll. I loads of work that needs doing, even inside work but because of "Big Red", the Rhode Island rooster, I'm temporarily out of commission. I can hardly believe that rascally rooster got the better of me. Like David and Goliath, the wee rooster, well maybe not so small as roosters go, won a battle. Perhaps if I'd pretended to be like David and used a stone and a sling-shot, instead of my foot to move him out of the way before I began carrying a load of lumber into the garage, the outcome would have been different.
Big Red used to be second in command; "Blackie", the Australorp rooster, the toughest of the two, used to be the General in charge of the 100 hens. That is, until I went into the chicken coop one morning and discovered Blackie was bleeding and all beat up trying to hide in a corner under the laying boxes. Interestingly enough, although Blackie was the main leader, lover and protector of the flock, he never ever hurt Big Red, just kind of stuck out his chest and did a rooster dance. I guess since Big Red had injured his leg and limped around for about a year, the display of Blackie's strength was enough to deter him from challenging his authority. But like a lot of red heads, Big Red has always had a fiery temper; apparently he had attacked Sarah and Jessica on numerous occasions; always left me alone. I always considered myself to be the biggest and strongest honcho rooster but I guess after Big Red licked Blackie; he decided to take me on too; didn't seem to matter that I was carrying 8 - 3"x8' boards at the time - nope - he stood his ground and when I attempted to push him aside with my left foot, he reared up like a stallion and struck out at me with his feet. Now, a person would think he would have taken off when the side of my boot gave him a shove but no, he came at me again, only this time I flicked my foot a little harder and sent him on his way. I felt a little pain in my foot but didn't give it any thought; I mean how much damage can a rooster do?
After about an hour had gone by, I noticed instead of the wee bit of pain I felt when Big Red struck my foot; it began hurting quite a bit. Realizing both our roosters have long spurs on the backs of their legs, I took off my cowboy boot and sock so I could have a look at my foot. I was surprised to see a circular hole about the size of an 1/8th" wide screw in the top of my foot. Since the black sock was wet, I assumed the wee wound had been bleeding.but still I wasn't too concerned; just headed into the house to clean the damage and put an antiseptic cream on it. However, by the time another hour had passed, my foot was really hurting and within about 15 more minutes, I was unable to walk on it. When Sarah and I took a look at the wound, we were both a little alarmed. Although the injury seemed so minute, the redness that began traveling up past my ankle was starting to look more than a little scary. After talking to a nurse on a hot-line, she informed me that I should immediately go to the hospital to have it looked at.
The pain was extreme as Sarah drove the truck along the the curvy, hilly and bumpy road for over an hour to the hospital and by the time we arrived, she had to get a wheelchair to push me to Emergency. By the time a doctor looked at the wound, my whole foot was red and just past my ankle, beginning to climb up my skinny, lily-white leg. I was given a Tetanus shot, a pain-killer and an antibiotic pill to kill the infection, which was most likely blood-poisoning, although the doctor never really said.
I'm on my third day, since Big Red put the spurs to me and punctured my leather cowboy boot and left foot; the redness halted but not all the swelling has gone yet. I've done a wee bit of walking around, doing a few chores, but because it still hurts quite a bit and causes me to limp, I've pretty much decided to take another day off and put my feet up; especially my left foot. The part I'm really resenting about Big Red is that I can't have a beer while I'm on meds. Since Sarah has been worried about Big Red attacking someone, instead of me ringing his neck, she found a nice home for him - about 50 hens and no other rooster to contend with. He's going to get his spurs clipped too. We'll see how Blackie reacts then after he's once again the General and as long as he keeps his spurs to himself; I hope he enjoys a long and healthy life here on Golden Unicorn Farm - cheers, eh!
It's been quite awhile since I wrote a blog because with the coming of spring; I've been up to the arm pits in yard work and building repairs; winter forever taking its toll. I loads of work that needs doing, even inside work but because of "Big Red", the Rhode Island rooster, I'm temporarily out of commission. I can hardly believe that rascally rooster got the better of me. Like David and Goliath, the wee rooster, well maybe not so small as roosters go, won a battle. Perhaps if I'd pretended to be like David and used a stone and a sling-shot, instead of my foot to move him out of the way before I began carrying a load of lumber into the garage, the outcome would have been different.
Big Red used to be second in command; "Blackie", the Australorp rooster, the toughest of the two, used to be the General in charge of the 100 hens. That is, until I went into the chicken coop one morning and discovered Blackie was bleeding and all beat up trying to hide in a corner under the laying boxes. Interestingly enough, although Blackie was the main leader, lover and protector of the flock, he never ever hurt Big Red, just kind of stuck out his chest and did a rooster dance. I guess since Big Red had injured his leg and limped around for about a year, the display of Blackie's strength was enough to deter him from challenging his authority. But like a lot of red heads, Big Red has always had a fiery temper; apparently he had attacked Sarah and Jessica on numerous occasions; always left me alone. I always considered myself to be the biggest and strongest honcho rooster but I guess after Big Red licked Blackie; he decided to take me on too; didn't seem to matter that I was carrying 8 - 3"x8' boards at the time - nope - he stood his ground and when I attempted to push him aside with my left foot, he reared up like a stallion and struck out at me with his feet. Now, a person would think he would have taken off when the side of my boot gave him a shove but no, he came at me again, only this time I flicked my foot a little harder and sent him on his way. I felt a little pain in my foot but didn't give it any thought; I mean how much damage can a rooster do?
After about an hour had gone by, I noticed instead of the wee bit of pain I felt when Big Red struck my foot; it began hurting quite a bit. Realizing both our roosters have long spurs on the backs of their legs, I took off my cowboy boot and sock so I could have a look at my foot. I was surprised to see a circular hole about the size of an 1/8th" wide screw in the top of my foot. Since the black sock was wet, I assumed the wee wound had been bleeding.but still I wasn't too concerned; just headed into the house to clean the damage and put an antiseptic cream on it. However, by the time another hour had passed, my foot was really hurting and within about 15 more minutes, I was unable to walk on it. When Sarah and I took a look at the wound, we were both a little alarmed. Although the injury seemed so minute, the redness that began traveling up past my ankle was starting to look more than a little scary. After talking to a nurse on a hot-line, she informed me that I should immediately go to the hospital to have it looked at.
The pain was extreme as Sarah drove the truck along the the curvy, hilly and bumpy road for over an hour to the hospital and by the time we arrived, she had to get a wheelchair to push me to Emergency. By the time a doctor looked at the wound, my whole foot was red and just past my ankle, beginning to climb up my skinny, lily-white leg. I was given a Tetanus shot, a pain-killer and an antibiotic pill to kill the infection, which was most likely blood-poisoning, although the doctor never really said.
I'm on my third day, since Big Red put the spurs to me and punctured my leather cowboy boot and left foot; the redness halted but not all the swelling has gone yet. I've done a wee bit of walking around, doing a few chores, but because it still hurts quite a bit and causes me to limp, I've pretty much decided to take another day off and put my feet up; especially my left foot. The part I'm really resenting about Big Red is that I can't have a beer while I'm on meds. Since Sarah has been worried about Big Red attacking someone, instead of me ringing his neck, she found a nice home for him - about 50 hens and no other rooster to contend with. He's going to get his spurs clipped too. We'll see how Blackie reacts then after he's once again the General and as long as he keeps his spurs to himself; I hope he enjoys a long and healthy life here on Golden Unicorn Farm - cheers, eh!
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