Frost and wind-blown snow soften and add colour to these thistle seed heads I found by the roadside. We often miss simple, unadorned yet lovely sights, sounds, experiences because we are too ‘busy’.
Beauty can be found even on a -14C morning if we are open to taking a moment from the busy-ness of our lives to seek, to appreciate it. I am trying to learn to stop, to look, to see. My photography seems to be helping open me up to it.
. . . describes Achilles, here shying away from a tiny wavelet breaking at his feet during a visit to Lake Erie. ‘Ain’t gonna get wet, don’t wanna, no how, no way, can’t make me.’
He’s never gotten more than his feet wet and that has only happened walking through puddles. Chili has never taken a swim. I’ve encouraged him but have never made nor will I will never make him.
Because he’s a stray I’ll never know the reason for his antipathy to water. Some mysteries are destined to remain such.
There have been numerous reports on eBird this winter of an ‘invasion’ of these amazing birds spreading into this part of the world, far to the south of their normal range. There have been at least two sightings in the part of Lambton County I regularly commute through so I’ve kept an eye out in the fields out as I thought to do so.
I happened to glance up, saw this individual as I passed the hydro pole it perched on, said ‘Wow’ and braked hard to a stop. Whipped out the Fuji camera (like yesterday the winner of the ‘PlayBook or Fuji? decision process) and took a few photos. Then decided to risk having the owl fly away as I backtracked to a position up-sun of it and managed to capture a couple photos.
I never expected to see one of these magnificent birds. Fate, karma, whatever, blessed me. How blessed I am.
. . . is what I sometimes call Stella. Here she is swimming in a warmer time, in a warmer clime.
While stratus clouds at the east edge of a snow squall blushed at the first touch of sunlight, the steam plume emitted by a power plant remained in shadow, awaiting the suns’ kiss. The corn stubble already feels the suns’ faint, frosty caress.
I deliberated this morning over whether to bring the PlayBook or the Fuji camera. Turns out it’s good I opted for the former.
I saw this contrail far to the southeast of where I stood this morning and zoomed in on it. If you look closely at the contrail you can see colours refracting out. Further, the tendrils below are (I think) heavier ice crystals precipitating out. A very pretty and different view of a very common sight in North American skies.
It’s such a humble thing and few people might think of making their own bread. Faye found a book at our library – Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day – and began experimenting. She liked it so much that she hinted she’d like to add the new edition to our cookbook library. For once I paid attention and gave it to her for Christmas.
Making your starter batch is quite simple. Even I can do it as I proved on Sunday. Takes little time, as does shaping each loaf. Our breads have turned out with a lot of what I call ‘body’ – chewy with a crisp crust that gives my jaws a workout, lots of flavour. Store bought bread isn’t nearly as satisfying, not to mention having some unpronounceable ingredients.
Yum.
July 30, 2007 is the day my life began again. Achilles, Stella, and I arrived at our home after a journey rich in miles, time, and living. Sometimes people ask if I have been home, meaning Texas, lately. I reply ‘This is my home.’
I would not trade that journey, and my destination, for anything.
I like to track weather and climate data. Though my instruments are non-precision they help me track daily high and low temperature, rainfall, and snowfall. I write the numbers on the calendar then transfer them to a spreadsheet, in which I keep the data in tabular and graphical form. It’s a cool way to see what happens during the month, year, and over the years since I have lived in Dresden. It’s also neat to compare against climate data collected here by Environment Canada during the years 1971-2000.
Here is the graph for January through yesterday morning. The red line is the high, the roughly corresponding line is the low, green = rain and lighted blue = snow. Up and down the temperatures have gone. Despite that big dip our average low of -6 is three degrees warmer than the historic average of -9. Another big dip looms in the next few days, which should bring that average low more in line with the historic data. The green spike is a day of rain, and we have already exceeded the average snowfall by a comfortable margin.
It’s good to have a good dogs’ head on your knee.
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