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!
          .