Sure the first two hours of my day were spent reading, and in my pyjamas, but once I get going, I really get going. I found a recipe for Mediterranean Cabbage and Potato Soup (not stew, SecretAgentWoman) and holy hannah the vegetable chopping took forever. The slow cooker was heaped to overflowing. I got three loads of laundry done, and some vacuuming (Scott brought a Dyson home from Calgary on his last trip and it’s easy to move around, you don’t have to drag anything, and it’s not particularly loud, so I’m taking advantage of it. Now, what to do with the old Electrolux we bought for 20 bucks at a family garage sale?).
I’d planned to spend 5 minutes a day cleaning up the office, knowing 5 minutes always ends up more and it would be required. Today I got the bottom of the closet cleaned out and vacuumed, which means the recycling barrel is full and ready to go out the door, and I’ve looked through old photo albums and seen my great-great grandmother’s funeral notice, and more … and some gorgeous old portraits — I’ve no clue who they are and the big bother about that is What if one of them is that great-great -grandmother and -grandfather and nobody knows? The way I see it, if you’re going to keep a portrait of anybody, isn’t it going to be them?
But oh my heavenly god there are a lot of photographs and other paperworks to be organized. Wish me luck. I’m actually tired after two-and-a-half hours at it. The bed behind me is loaded and has to be sorted through. The floor is half-full of containers and briefcases and photo frames. Thank goodness I have nothing but time and don’t have to squeeze all this around more pressing business. I can relax and enjoy doing it because — let’s face it — it’s fun to see these things again. But decisions, decisions! Out go the gardening magazines. Out go the old newspapers. Out go some old letters. Out Out!
I’ll have to call up my niece and invite her out to look at old albums because she has shown an interest woo hoo! and somebody has to steward the family photos after I die peacefully in my sleep, having all in order. Hee!
roosty6: Seeing the same devastation of natural parkland here too. More so this fall than ever since it has dried up. Soon we will have to go to town to see a tree. I’m keeping my hundreds of acres of woods just to be different. We like our trees and they will stay around as long as I’m alive. After that who knows? But I won’t be around to have to look at the barren wasteland of tree-less crop land. For now I’ll just enjoy the trees on our “hundred acre woods” and grow enough crops to make a living.
Neither of us will be around to suffer the treeless prairie where once was parkland, but I hope things can change enough that more natural habitat will be protected by government. Surely we’re evolving toward that kind of thinking in this society, even though we’re so goddawful molasses-slow to make it happen. People do care — I hear it often, the dismay at seeing yet another field of trees flattened — and it’s the government that has to get the message. Methinks it darest not piss off the farmers; what’r ya gonna do? Also, not all farmers hate trees. THANK GOD or we’d be a desert. But we’re fast getting there.
Beverly King: I feel your frustration. We’ve lost so many century-old trees here because of hurricanes, tornadoes and straight-line windstorms, I see no logic in cutting down others unless they present a danger. A few years ago, the huge Baptist church in the neighborhood decided it needed more parking space so it bulldozed dozens of old trees (that had been a home and food source for many woodpeckers and other birds). I went over and took pictures of the destruction, and one day was spotted by one of the faithful. They came knocking on my door with a homemade loaf of bread to placate my anger. I never touched that bread – I couldn’t bear to eat any of it. That parking lot is now the cause of much flooding in our neighborhood.
I can just see that bread being bitter without being tasted.
Secret Agent Woman: I cheated and googled uxters to find out it was armpit holes in a jacket. I like the word. I also laughed at turning your thermostat down to 68 – we turn it from 68 to 64 at night.
Good god, 64! I think I’m doing good at 68, and even that I find cold when I get up at night to go down the hall.
Secret Agent Woman: Oh man, I hate when trees are needlessly cut down.
There’s always a reason, but it’s not always a good enough one.
Joancarolineart: Gary and his mum knew what oxters were as soon as i asked them and they laughed at my pronunciation of it as they say it with an “oh” sound and I used an “uh”…….then proceeded to use it in a sentence…
Gary has no business laughing at you.
He who called a cow a “coo.”
Give ‘im a peck for me.
Wisewebwoman: Ah that’s my girl, grabbing the Irish in your fists and shaking it.
I think you might remember the devastation I suffered with the approximately 1000 trees that were ripped off the belly of the earth beside me when I resided around the bay. I will never forget my heartbreak. He waited till I was away on vacation and I came back to the gouged and bleeding earth. I cried for weeks. All the more painful when we know today that trees “talk” to each other underground and sustain each other transferring nutrients to those in need.
Deepest sympathy. It hurts so badly.
It really does feel awful, and what was done near your place was 100 times worse. I’m grateful my mother-in-law is a lover of trees so that her land across the road from us won’t be denuded. Nor will our 32 acres here, where the house sits. We’ll hang onto every tree by our fingernails. Quite a few have been lost in the past few years due to flooding but so far we’re not living on the surface of a moon.
Oh and WiseWebWoman, I heard about Newfoundland’s “trigger mitts” last night on the CBC “Sunday Edition” podcast. Now there’s something I’d never heard of before.
I leave you with some pictures taken while sitting in the truck at the gas pumps, waiting for Scott to pay for fuel: