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

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

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

Daughter and Father

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

Shrimp Extraordinaire

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

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

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

BUGS, BIG-BOSOMS - WHEELER AND FEEL-ER

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

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

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

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

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

NEW HOME FOR LUKI AND THE TEPEE

Sarah and Luki

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

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

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

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

          

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

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

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

Moonshine Willy               Akela                           Snowstar

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

 

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

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

I HAD A BLAST AT THE GOLDEN UNICORN ARTS FESTIVAL

Portion of a Newspaper Ad

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

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

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

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

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

WORK AND FUN

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

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

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

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

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

          

FLICKER THE WOODPECKER AND THE SILVER-BIRCH TREE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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