Song of the week...

Music means so much to me so I've decided to do a song of the week on Fridays....something to get the weekend off to a good start...
First off is one of those songs that has made it onto many of my mixed cd's and playlists...the first time I ever heard this song on CBC, I went out the same day and bought the cd. I've been lucky enough to have seen these gals several times and now that I've heard that they've stopped playing together I feel even more fortunate to have done so...they trigger many great memories of days in the sun, drinking wine, eating good food with my girlfriends and most of all a road trip 6 of us did down to Oregon in a posh van with 2 rather large dogs...so this ones for you ladies....

Recyclers of the bird world...

The last few days there has been a lot of racket out in the ditch by our property. Unfortuneatley another deer has been killed by a car and the ravens are the first to arrive to start the cleanup. The ravens around here look much like a crow except they have a huge hooked beak and are probably three times the size...18-24" long.

There have been a pair around here forever, (apparently they can live to be about 40 years old) and have consistently nested and raised 3 or 4 young every spring. Generally they spell trouble for our chickens since, well, who doesn't like a nice fresh chicken for lunch now and then? We try to keep tabs on where the ravens are when the chickens are free ranging but once in a while the darkness falls and we have one less chicken. I must give the ravens credit though because they pick that chicken until there's nothing but bone and feathers  unlike the mink. They got into the henhouse once and what they do is sink their teeth into a chickens neck and suck their blood like a vampire and then leave the rest...such a waste. Anyway quite often accompaning the ravens are the bald eagles...

This guy was keeping one eye on the carcass...

...and one eye on Griffin and I...

Its funny how people think of eagles as these really impressive, majestic birds, which they are but they are also one BIG scavenger...opportunistic at all times.

So the recycling begins and in turn one thing feeds another in a symbiotic relationship which is so prevalent in nature...some may think it disgusting or cruel but they have their purpose in this great big circle of life.

What a difference a day makes...

This past weekend was a write off what with the torrential rains, windstorms and me suffering through a wicked migraine for 3 days....but yesterday we were all rewarded with a beautiful, sunny, warm day!
My friend Heather and her dog Dakota came out from the city for a visit. We took advantage of the day and went down to Whiffen Spit.

This is a natural, narrow strip of land that juts out between the Sooke Harbour and the Juan De Fuca Straits.

Its a favorite place for a lovely half hour walk which takes you along driftwood laced beaches to the end of the Spit where there sits an automated foghorn.

The tide was high so there were lots of weird and wonderful  surprises along the way....

A bleached out deer skull from who knows where...

This poor little soldier who had seen better days....

Driftwood slowly decaying back into the earth...

Turkish towel seaweed's pretty rust tones...

LOTS of seaweed washed up on shore by the high tides and winds...

Just up from the Spit is a lovely old seaside Inn called The Sooke Harbour House. It is well known for its completely edible garden, gourmet meals and art gallery atmosphere. (as well as its high end room rates!)

A walk around the  inside and outside is full of beautiful objects to see...

...wind chimes for the jazz lover...

..Japanese glass floats used to wash up on the shores around here...

...Sculptures carved form one piece of old growth maple...

...and others carved form huge pieces of stone, so lifelike!

So always remember...every day is a chance to start again, renew, rejuvinate, relax, enjoy...

Get Outside!

Of more innocent times....

 

I have just recently finished reading this book, written by an old childhood friend of my dad's. They all grew up in the same neighbourhood in Toronto during the '30's and '40s...The end of the Great Depression and the start of the Second World War. The area was home to many immigrants from Ireland, Italy, Scotland and other parts of the world, many of them low income such as the Kearney's and my dads family.

In the beginning of Joe's book, he talks about  Cabbagetown and how despite people not having much, there was a certain magic there.  It could have been the place, or the time or both, which gave it that feel.  It was a time when the world was different. Children ran about the neighbourhood unsupervised, parents didn't fear for their children's safety and life was a bit less complicated than it is today. Joe talks about spending hours, days and months outside the local market in hopes of making a few cents carting groceries home for old ladies in order to buy his mom a christmas present. Joe's dad had gone off to war and money was scarce for such luxuries. I can't even imagine my 11 year old nephew attempting this, let alone being allowed to do such a thing  in this day and age!

Although I know the area and have been there many times as a kid, I never knew it like those who grew up there during those troubled times. But Joe's writing takes you there with its sights and smells and scenes of life in a real neighbourhood. My favorite story is one of Joe and his 'gang' of 9 or 10 year olds skinny-dipping in the Don River, listening for the local train going by and then lining up near the tracks to hang a moon at the conductor! I can just see all those skinny little white bums lined up for all to see...the conductor blowing his horn for them!  It seems that these places  don't really exist anymore. Kids go to schools outside of their neighbourhoods, often by schoolbus or a parents car. Small markets, butchers, bakeries and theatres have given way to Costco, Tesco, Superstores and Walmarts. We don't dare let our kids out of our sight for fear of the worst. 

Cabbagetown was a jumble of gangs of kids, bikes, dogs and mom's on the stoop. Now, the streets are lined with BMW's, Lexus' and all the old brownstones have hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of renovations put into them.

Joe also has some stories of my first father whom I lost when I was only 3. These stories have given me some insight into a life I never knew.

So thanks to you Joe for bringing these memories to life.

For anyone who wishes to escape to another time and place of innocence, or those who wish to revisit Cabbagetown,  I recommend this wonderful book.

 

John and Andy O'Gorman 1945