DECEMBER 21, 2012 - ONLY 357 DAYS TO GO

          New Years day is creeping up over the other side of the horizon; every now and then I see a star-burst in the night sky signifying it's almost time to grab some pots and pans, maybe fire the shotgun into the air to celebrate the birth of 2012.  This is the year when some of the historical premonitions are supposed to befall our civilization and perhaps end everything - the Mayan calendar; why do you suppose it ends Dec. 21, 2012; how does a calendar run out of days? - Nostradamus predicted the Earth getting hit by a comet and more recently, Edgar Cayce says the Earth will tilt on its axis at a different angle, which will create great devastation world wide and did you know that the Sun will be at the exact centre of the galactic plane on that date?  Something to think about, ponder and possibly be concerned about, especially since, as we all know, nothing lasts forever.  I expect this could be a worrisome year for many if they dwell on the ending of the Earth but for me, the way I look at it, we're all here for a very short time like it or not and knowing or not knowing the day that I'm going to die isn't going to make any difference.  A lot of people don't want to depart alone when they go to the big outhouse in the sky (which is what our space programs have been turning it into for many years) so hey, on that day, we, who are all still existing on that particular day, that special day, can all join hands and go together - the Rhapsody, behold Armageddon; Revelations come true; the ultimate battle where goodness wins over evil.  How does one prepare for such a day?  I guess if one is religious, prayer is the answer; if an atheist; c'est la vie.
          2012 - the year that ends all years.  For me, living at the base of Green Mountain in Fosterville, NB, Canada, on 50 acres of natural and a little man-made beauty, I can't be overly concerned about Dec. 21, 2012.  At that time of year, I could be waist deep in show, the wind blowing a gale through the tree tops; so the way I see it, the animals will still need tending to, the stove will still need some logs and the family will still need some lovin'.  Life will go on as per usual, no last meal like a condemned criminal; no getting dressed in my best finery; could possibly say a prayer, but to be honest, prayers have never been high on my list.  Besides if this ultimate Holocaust comes true, it's  not like we can avoid it; there's no place to go and hide; our space ships don't have the technology to find another Earth and we can't buy out way out of this calamity either.
         Let's just say, Dec. 21, 2012 really is the day the world ends; it will certainly be a blast won't it - more exciting than any New Year's celebration, crowning of royalty, swearing in a president or prime minister, gala opening of a Hollywood movie, the largest tsunami, most explosive volcano, fiercest hurricane, etc.  And just think about it; there's no last row seating, standing room only - we all have front row, centre seats.  We may not be able to stand and applaud at the end of the most spectacular performance ever presented but then why should we - for once in everyone's life we will be a star and not just a bit actor that never says a word - we can all scream together!
          Well, it's not 2012 yet; I have things to do today besides sit here at the computer and write a blog.  Since the temperature dropped well below zero last night, I need to get the livestock some water since their drinking water is now a block of ice; the dog, goat and cat can manage alright but the poor little chickens can't lick it.  Need to throw some wood on the fire too, my studio is cold, almost need gloves to type on the keyboard and I may have to cut the lock off the garage door - the key just goes round and round.  Thought maybe it was frozen but after I poured a little of my hot goldenrod tea on it, the key still kept on going round and round.  And I suppose in a sense, we're all a little like that key, we all just keep going round and round, stuck in our own individual ruts.  Not sure if I'll be writing a blog on New Years day, so if I don't; Happy New Year to you all and be there on Dec. 21, 2012!  Cheers, eh!

SORE BACK AND NO RESOLUTIONS

          Christmas is over and as per usual, like a great many people, I overate, drank too much and sat on my butt too long.  As a result, from this somewhat decadent lifestyle, on Christmas evening, when I bent over to get some grain for our pregnant goat, my back, since I've got 5 compressed arthritic discs said, "That's it Lenny!"  Barely able to walk because of the intense pain, I went from sitting on the couch to laying on the couch.  However, since I've been inflicted with this back problem for quite a few years, I discovered that rather than laying on the couch and waiting for my back to quit hurting, I try to get moving as soon as possible and despite the pain, I seem to recover faster.  Day 1: walking was not an option.  Day 2: walked around the house a little bit and not just to use the toilet.  Day 3: walked about a mile to the lake and back taking photos of the thawing ice and melting snow.  Day 4, tomorrow: hopefully will be able to bend over better and may take a crack at cleaning the barn and chicken coop; especially the chicken coop. it's rather disgusting.

My Friend, Ronnie's Tepee

          It's almost the New Year and I don't plan on making any resolutions - I've got enough hard work ahead of me for the coming year.  I need to expand the hen house and studio, build a new wood shed, possibly a combined sitting room/green house and a tepee is a must, also get wood for next winter to keep us warm - geesh - I should be 17 instead of 70.  And oh yeah, drag small logs out of the forest so my friend and I can saw them into boards; enough for the upstairs 1,200 sq. ft floor.  Did I mention that I want to dig a small pond - planning on adding some ducks to our barnyard - maybe rabbits too.  And I think I've got an aching back now.  One good thing to say about my back giving out on Christmas day, it's winter and I don't have too many chores to do at the moment.

Watercolour Portrait of My Grandson Ethan

          Talk about a nice Christmas gift, my daughter Brandi, who lives in Toronto, ON paid for my airline tickets to Nanaimo, BC and back with a day in Toronto - now how special was that?  In return for such a thoughtful gift, the day before I flew out, I painted a portrait of her son Ethan looking out the window.  It's been a long time since I painted a portrait and it was good to know that I hadn't lost the ability.  I posted the portrait on a website for artists and mentioned that I was willing to paint portraits - didn't give a price, said it was negotiable.  I received a comment from another artist telling me that they only paint for the joy of it and not for the monetary gain to which I replied, "Hey, I have to make hay - I live on a farm with animals to feed and a small family to help support, so I not only paint for the joy of it but for the money too."  So hey, if anyone out there in cyberspace would like a portrait painted of a loved one or even a pet to help support our farm and family - my prices are reasonable; all I need is a good detailed photo to go by.
          The weather has taken quite a change the past few days; almost all the snow has melted and the temperature feels somewhat balmy.  It's the first day in almost 2 weeks that the chickens have been let out to roam and scratch about the barnyard.  They are certainly happy little feathered creatures and seem to be laying quite well.  Since the chickens are all very young, just beginning to lay eggs, we are getting eggs in all sizes and because of the Ameraucanas, some of the eggs are green, blue and pink - almost seems like Easter.  Freya the goat is quite large now - only about a month and a little bit before her big round belly gives birth - I wonder if she will have one or two kid?  I'm going to let a few of the hens, in the spring, if they become broody, to sit on their eggs and let them have chicks - would kind of like to let them do it naturally but may incubate some as well to perhaps sell.
          Time to get off my butt, stop writing and start walking about for a bit - need to get my back into working order again and especially need it healed before spring arrives - cheers, eh!
         
                   

CHRISTMAS EVE - BEAUTY AND CONSUMERISM ABOUNDS

          Well -  it's that time of year again - the big, bearded, ho-ho-ho guy in the sky with a huge bag of goodies arriving in a sleigh  that's pulled by eight tiny red deer and of course Rudolph with a red light-bulb for a nose to lead the way.  Ah, the joys of consumerism - a merchant's dream but for many people; a night mare.  I believe we can thank Coca-Cola for the big Santa Claus gimmicky kick-off.  I'm not a bah, hum-bug sort of guy - I spend money on gifts like most anyone else but I do try to keep it realistically viable, that is to say, I don't go into debt; simply buy what I can afford.  I hate to say it but I do believe my generation was the beginning of overspending and giving kids just about anything they desired and the way the Santa Claus tradition has carried on thus far, it has gotten beyond everyone's control and now borders on the ridiculous.
          A couple of Christmases ago, when my grandson Charlie was only two, and I've seen this with other children as well; he received lots of gifts; colourful, noisy, expensive gifts but the one he was most interested in was my empty beer case - he played with it the most.  Actually, if you want to give a toddler the perfect gift, what is considered to be the No. 1 gift - give him or her a stick - I wouldn't be surprised if a rock is No. 2.
          Christmas is sort of bitter-sweet for me, not because of the Hollywood, media-hyped influence but because my father died Christmas day back in 1969, the year I married my first wife, Doreen.  I can't say that I'm really unhappy on this day, just usually take a quiet moment by myself and say, "Merry Christmas Dad, wish you were here."  Funny, when you think about it though, the person that's really responsible for this day is actually more like a bit player in a Santa Claus movie.  Jesus Christ must roll over in His grave every time they bring out another Santa Claus movie or when He sees how much most of the people idolize some fat guy with a twinkle in his eye that promises gifts and seldom delivers - being naughty or nice has nothing to do with it.
          Christmas eve today, and from the looks of it, we'll be having a white Christmas.  It's -17 below, the sun is shining and the landscape is picturesque; white, sparkly snow covering most everything - making it ideal for a fat man to land with a bag of goodies on a rooftop - most likely burn his ass off though if he comes down our chimney and lands in the air-tight wood stove.  I still haven't been able to convince our younger daughter (10) Jessica that she should leave Santa a cold beer and a slab of pepperoni - it's always cookies and milk, which I'm not terribly fond of eating or drinking.   We're having a quiet Christmas, just my wife Sarah and her two girls and possibly a couple of neighbours for turkey dinner.  Not sure if we'll have all the trimmings but I expect my belly will be as round as Santa's when I've finished munching the meat off the drumstick, chomping on a chunk of homemade Christmas cake, nibbling on sweet chocolates and sucking back a few Fireball (cinnamon flavoured whiskey) creamy hot chocolates.  I can't help but think how lucky I am to be born and live in such a great place, especially when I see that the majority of people on this planet live in complete and utter poverty.  I sit here now in my own little studio, a cold beer within reach, Finnegan the cat snoozing on my lap and just writing away on the computer, saying whatever the hell I feel like - no real life threatening cares or worries, just mellow and warm with visions of sugar-plums dancing in my head.

         I'm not much like Santa when "he sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle".  No, but as I leave this computer not like "the down of a thistle, "  I will "exclaim, 'ere" I walk out the door, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"  - Cheers, eh!   

                    

APOCALYPSE, GOLDEN UNICORN FARM AND A WISHING WELL

Apocalypse

          Apocalypse is a painting that I did years ago when I was a young man - seems like every young person goes through that rebellious stage, when they're unhappy with the establishment and would like to change the world and make it a better place.  We all get a chance to be that way and somehow, after all these years that I've complained and heard other people complaining, not to mention those in other countries that don't have it any where as good as we do here living in Canada, a person would think that the world would be a better place instead of it being a cesspool filled to the brim with toxic waste, the air barely breathable and the water hardly drinkable.  Being an artist, I can honestly say that I love this Earth and all the natural things that abound throughout, even though some of the creatures living here would literally like to sink their teeth into me and strip the meat from my bones.  In some ways that's almost more desirable, since it would give sustenance to the beast, rather than everything being poisoned and I'm laying in a squalid ditch flicking like a dying fish waiting to take my last breath.  When I painted the Apocalypse, even though it didn't seem like it so much at the time, I had a premonition that the world and its civilizations were heading that that direction and now as I listen to the remarks people are making in the media and just ordinary Joe's on almost a daily basis, this painting may be closer to the truth than I would like to admit.  I've never put this painting up for sale, because who would want to hang it on their wall, I don't even hang it on mine; I keep it in a closet - it's downright scary!  I decided to put it on my blog to show people that if they don't want this ugly painting to become real, they should really make a strong effort to eliminate their heavy carbon footprints.  I try - I don't even drive but even saying that makes me somewhat of a hypocrite because I let others drive me around.  I also purchase things from other countries instead of trying to rely on an 100 mile radius, which actually makes a lot of sense because a lot of people who live within this area would become more productive and may not have to rely so heavily on making a living working for someone else.  But then who says being sensible is the logical way to go?

Door  Leading to my Studio in the Garage (Attached Barn can Also be Seen)

          

          Here on Golden Unicorn Farm, the snow began falling just before daybreak and within a few hours we had approximately 6" of winter wonderland covering our place.  It's not necessary to tell anyone how beautiful it is here, I think the photos speak for themselves.  The next photo is a shot of the house, which I can see from my studio window and when I look out my doorway at the other end of the studio, I often see Luki, our Great Pyrenees dog waiting for me to come out.  Although he's actually a very professional type guard dog (almost a hit-man in disguise) he is mostly very gentle with the animals, except for Freya the goat when feeding time arrives - nothing (except us) goes near his food bowl unless, they too want to become part of  his dinner.

View from Studio Window

Luki - Our Faithful Watchdog

          It's beautiful here on our little farm - it's nothing like my ugly painting Apocalypse and I'd really like to keep it that way.  Sure the weather may be harsh at times; we dress for it; put lots of clothes on in the winter and then take 'em off in the summer.  The black flies, mosquitoes and no-seeums are definitely hell on wings but they go away eventually.  Sure, there's big black bears hanging around here too but they're not too interested in us and they're most likely hibernating now or seriously considering it after this snowfall.  Moose, deer, porcupine, coyote, fox and other animals share our place and they're welcome as long as they leave our livestock alone - otherwise they have to deal with Luki and if not Luki, then me and I'm the meanest son-of-a-bitch that watches over this 50 acre place, well hardly mean but I have been known to deal with varmints with deadly force.  

          Enough about meanness, death and ugly paintings.  This is a photo of our well; an actual well, not a pretend wishing well.  However, today, I will make an exception for the well and dub it a wishing well because what I wish for me and mine and you and yours is a healthy world because without it we are not healthy either.  If we look after the Earth, the Earth will look after us - cheers, eh!

Our Wishing Well (for today only) We Depend on it for Our Drinking Water

SIGNS, FOOTSTOOLS AND CROOKED CANOES

Stockford Mill Sign

          I've painted all sorts of subjects and lettered a lot of signs over the years in almost every size imaginable - teeny, itsy-bitsy miniature portraits for a scaled down dollhouse to a blimp shaped like a killer whale named Ruthy that didn't look so big once it was floating around high up in the sky.  I've also lettered a few chain saw blades but this is the first circular saw blade that I've painted and lettered.  Linda Hamilton commissioned me to paint a picture of her father's (Walter Stockford) sawmill on one of the old rusty blades that he once used to saw logs into lumber.  The grist mill was built during 1935-36.  It was powered only with the use of water on the Eel River, which had been purposely dammed for the mill's operation.  Linda's father is now quite elderly and the Stockford Mill is no longer in service.  The building which was located on the river's edge is no longer there; it now stands further back from the river amidst some trees and although it can be seen from the road, it's highly unlikely that it will ever be in service again.

Saw Blade Progression

          Prepping the 30" saw blade was not as easy as I thought it would be.  I have no idea low long the blade had been rusting but it was quite badly pitted and took quite a long time to grind away the rust until it was once again shiny steel.  After about 3 or 4 coats of primer were applied, I roughly sketched out the photograph Linda had supplied.  Since the photo was black and white and the autumn day looked pretty gray and cloudy, I thought I'd use my imagination to brighten it up - I believe artistic licence is the term used.  She also would have liked a portrait of her father on the blade but the photos she supplied were so grainy and small, I decided to leave him out because I don't think I could have painted a satisfactory likeness of him.  Linda has yet to see the finished product and I wonder what her reaction will be when she picks up the saw blade - hopefully she will like the colorful transformation and bring back some happy memories.

  Finished Product

          Since Linda mentioned she was probably going to put the saw blade out in her garden, I used 1Shot sign enamels to produce the painting and lettering.  Although the paints stand up fairly well to sunlight and battering rain, it would probably be better hung up on a wall that doesn't get direct sunlight because it will fade in time and if a little moisture should get in behind the paint, well the rust will start eating it away.  

  Children's Wooden Footstool

        Besides painting the saw blade, I've also been busy building and painting kid's footstools.  Sarah and I were in a craft fair a couple of weeks ago at the First Nations Auditorium attempting to sell some of the things we made but didn't have much luck.  We were a bit discouraged by the low attendance and as many good, encouraging remarks that I heard concerning the stools, not one sold.  Forgetting that I'm no longer in BC but now located in New Brunswick, which has a much lower economy and fewer jobs, I feel the price for the stools was too high.  I've since lowered the price and sold this one - the name of the child costs a little extra but even after the child is grown, it will make a nice keepsake - make an excellent plant stand as well.  I'll have to remember that when producing crafts, I shouldn't expect to get paid much for my time, which is fine with me as long as it covers the cost of the material and I enjoy what I'm doing and I am.  If anyone is interested in purchasing one of these delightful little kid's stools, the price is now $25.00 each and an additional $5.00 to have it personalized.  Of course, depending upon where you live, shipping is extra.

          The First Nations Christmas Bazaar is not one that I will soon forget because the natives were allowed to sell bottles of wine that they had made.  And, although I'm not much of a wine drinker, beer tantalizing my palate more so, I did buy and imbibe their product while waiting for someone to purchase something from our table.  Let's just say that by the time we left the craft fair, I was more than three sheets to the wind, their Crooked Canoe wine had an apt name - cheers - eh!     

            

LESS IS BEST

          Seems like even if a person would like to slow life down just a little bit, you know, keep those wrinkles and sags from deepening and hanging even further than your knees, your mind steady and sharp with memories still intact, life just continues marching on to its own indomitable beat, totally oblivious to our concerns and needs.  No matter how many people tell me I look young for my age and that physically I'm not in too bad of shape, I know realistically that I'm kind of an old codger and like my Uncle Joe, a quiet man with a wry grin, used to say when he was diagnosed with cancer, "I get a little nervous when I walk by a shovel" - that's me now, the way I sometimes feel when the Grim Reaper comes to mind.  In the end, cancer got him, just like it or some other malady, even old age, will eventually take its toll on me - nobody gets out of here alive - not even Harry Houdini who was an amazing escape artist.  His wife Bess said, after the tenth Harry Houdini seance attempt, "Ten years is long enough to wait for any man!" I imagine if anyone could have found a way back from the grave, it would have been good old Harry but after 124 years, I suspect he won't be back; then again, maybe he's still trying!.

Harry Houdini

          And when I think about it, that's all a person can really do - just keep on trying - make their life as fulfilling as possible and don't be afraid to take risks.  Look at old Harry - all bent over, chained and manacled, most likely about to be hung by his heels inside a locked steel safe 

and tossed into a river.  He died a fairly young man, 52 years of age, but the thing about Harry is that he died doing what he enjoyed.  I think the thing to remember about life and it's something I'm unable to get my head around because I still keep on accumulating stuff as if I'm going to take it with me when I go, but Less is Best.  A time came in my life, when as many people are today and were then, I was basically a workaholic, a million bucks was my goal; to retire in grandeur on some tropical beach or some well-manicured estate - now that was a waste of time.  When that goal was shattered by a recession, my life at the time totally out of control, chaotic to the nth degree by my immature behaviour and way too many beers, I didn't know it at the time, but it was the best thing that could have happened to me.  It's true that I've often times taken the path of least resistance, which is sometimes a fool's choice but hell, an uncharted, crooked path slows a person down, gave me a chance to stub my toes, trip and fall and smell the flowers so to speak.

          What I eventually discovered after I didn't feel guilty about not working 12-16 hours a day and trying to hoard away a small king's ransom and that Less is Best - I now had a shitload of time to do whatever I pleased - instead of working a normal 5 day week with 2 days off, I now worked 2 days with 5 days off - like everyone else, I still had bills to pay but they were a lot smaller.  I went from searching for jobs to avoiding them and it's not because I was a lazy guy - it's just that my needs were a lot smaller and easier to manage.  I retired at around age 42 - not with a million bucks but broke - creditors clinging to my ass like a flock of flies and like Mark Twain (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) I never went bankrupt - I settled my accounts with everyone.  

          Here it is, the middle of the week and I'm kind of living in the middle of nowhere, New Brunswick, on a semi-wilderness 50 acres, chickens pecking about, a pregnant goat searching for non existent fresh green leaves, a cat creeping around looking for juicy mice and a huge dog to protect the lot of them - another wife and two more kids but still, as much as I have, which is actually more than I really need but because I moved to a place that was more affordable, I actually feel like I'm still kinda living like Less is Best.  It's difficult to shake our self-importance but when I'm up to my armpits in chicken shit, it kind of keeps me stabilized and in place.  Since most people, especially city dwellers don't have the opportunity to muck out a hen house and a barn, in order to keep check on any inflated egos, I recommend that when they drop a steamin' 16-coiler into the toilet, they bend over, take a good look at what they deposited and then suck in its putrid aroma through their noses - gives a whole new meaning to what we are truly about and the meaning of our lives.  No matter how big a mansion we live in, how new our automobile is, how well we're dressed, how good looking we are, how much wealth we have - like it or not, we are all full of shit in the scheme of things, and even though Less is Best, that's the way I see it - cheers - eh!                         

SUNDAY MORNIN' COMIN' DOWN AND GOIN' UP

           This morning feels like a line in a Kris Kristofferson song, "Sunday mornin' comin' down".  Now don't get me wrong, not like in my younger years when I woke up on some Sunday mornings snuggled up to my brown paper bag of drunken delight and wishing the bottle wasn't empty, I just feel a touch moody this cold Sunday morning, a slight cloud of melancholia pressing down on this old head.  For the most part, I've always been a somewhat happy-go-lucky sort of guy plodding along through the ruts of my life, sometimes reaching exciting exceptional highs and other times deeply despondent lows.  The problem about feeling really high and sitting on a lofty summit with no more places to grab a hold and pull yourself even higher; the only direction remaining is downwards and usually it's a tumble.
          I wrote about "fracking" in the last two blogs because it really upset me and I thought for a millisecond that maybe there was something I could actually do to help bring this disgusting manner of extracting natural gas from the Earth but when I turn back the pages of time and discover that nothing has never really changed in our human behaviour since the first caveman wanted a better cave to live in; we seem to be cursed with the dependency of consumerism, and, at this particular time of the year, Christmas, being the highlight, the spot light, the high point, an almost out of control frenzy of purchasing gifts; merchants of every demeanor reaching out with their long arms so their greedy hands can be overflowingly filled with gold and silver, I've come to the realization there isn't really much hope of changing our ways.  No matter how many people hold their placards high, stretch their banners wide and loudly chant for positive change as they march towards the people they have voted for to help make the world a better place, at least to my point of thinking, even when some changes occur for the good and betterment; the placards and banners are soon strewn and blown away on the wind of hopelessness, the marching and the cries no longer heard; everything has soon been forgotten, hushed over and when seemingly no heads are turned, no ears are listening, whatever was pushed aside or overturned, is once again creeping out of the darkness.
          Historically, going back in time, even before Alexander the Great and Genghis Khan toppled civilizations, the way of the world has always been in a continuous turmoil; the only thing being different now, the existence of our civilization is threatened, not by a horde of soldiers but by our rebelling planet.  As we all poison, choke and stab the Earth in all manner of ways, like a huge, itchy animal, I fear nature will one day rear, shake its head and rid itself of the flea infestation - mainly the whole human race.  I guess if there is any hope to be seen rising over the horizon at that time, if the world is even remotely in some state of habitation, there may be a few people still clinging to the Earth with their cracked and broken fingers and if there are any, I hope they have more foresight and a goodness within so that perhaps they can prepare a better way of co-existing with each other and especially with nature.
          I know some of the people that read this blog think that I'm just an old fool having a rant and perhaps I am but it's my blog and I can say what I like (chuckle, chuckle).

    Actual Footstool

          Our little 50 acres of paradise here at Golden Unicorn Farm is covered with patches of snow and since it now looks as if winter is here for its duration until spring arrives, somewhat like the big black bears that occasionally prowl around on our place, hibernation, even for me, seems a likely choice.  I had the wood stove in the studio blazing happily the other day as I made some crafts for a craft fair this weekend.  I constructed and painted an actual footstool - yes - an actual footstool for wee kiddies to stand on while brushing their teeth or perhaps reach something that's just not quite reachable.  I made ten of them and for me, not being a carpenter by any stretch of the imagination, I found it to be quite challenging.  So far, at this weekend's craft fair, although I've heard a lot of good comments, I've yet to sell one - perhaps $50.00 each is too much.  Today, I shall lower the price to $45.00 and for $5.00 extra, since I'm a sign painter by trade, I'll personalize them if so wished.

Art Card

       
          At this weekend's craft fair, I'm also selling cards for $4.00 each or 3 for $10.00 depicting some of my paintings.  I decided to add another card to this collection and see how it does - yesterday I sold one and watched as a lot of people's faces lit up with big smiles as they looked at it.  The painting has long since been sold but in these hard financial times where many people cannot afford a piece of art to hang on their wall, I thought they might enjoy a little of my art and perhaps pass on their enjoyment by buying one of these cards titled "Real Women Fart Out Loud".  Hope you enjoy it too - cheers - eh!