This is my back yard. I view it mostly through my kitchen window. It needs work. The grass is spotty and the weeds in my garden space are tall. The trellis needs to go as does the rhubarb. I don’t eat rhubarb – it is too sour. I ate it, as a child, raw dipped in sugar but now I know that there is not enough sugar in the world to sweeten rhubarb enough for my tastes.
As I may have mentioned before, I am not an outdoor person. I used to be. As a child, it seems when I wasn’t reading I was running around outdoors. Then I started working after school (when I was thirteen) and time to myself was devoted to reading because reading kept my sane. I would read outdoors then. There was a small forest right in the middle of town, beside the Catholic manse, with a gazebo perfect for reading. They tore the forest down to build fancy houses. I don’t know where the gazebo went. I stopped going outdoors.
My eldest sister has a back deck that she uses as a second kitchen as long as she can until the snows come. She revels in improving and enjoying her garden and yards. She takes after our mother and grandmothers. I do not.
An untidy yard and garden depresses me but I hate the thought of spending precious reading and writing time fussing about outdoors.
My gardens and yards came with the house. I enjoy the flowers but have no desire to replant and replace what is there. If the condos around here would have allowed pets I would have bought one and then would have no outdoor space to worry and fuss over.
This is my garden space right now. It is a mess of weeds. I get depressed every time I look at it so I avoid looking at it. When I have the money it will be converted to grass. The flowers will be pulled up (or moved to the side space) and I will convert my outdoor space to maximum low maintenance.
No weeding. No watering. Just a small green space outside my dooryard.
With lilacs, of course. The lilacs will stay as will the roses. But it will be every flower for themselves. They will survive (or not) as Nature attended with no help from me.
As Ailsa wrote “if you don’t like mowing the lawn, let there be meadow.”
This is my front yard. I like my front yard. It is just grass and a bench that nobody ever sits on. There are no flower beds. There is no weeding needed to keep it pretty. It needs only rain and mowing. I do not waste water on my lawn. It survives (or not) as Nature intended.
Yesterday, it was all sun-dappled and pretty. I love how freshly mowed grass smells. The spotty green (it has been a somewhat dry summer) doesn’t bother me. The grass grows as nature intended (or not). I would be happy surrounded by meadow as long as there was a path to the house so that I could get in.
The perfect summer reading experience is indoors in a screened porch with comfy couches and a deep big chair and a pot of tea with summer breezes blowing in the scent of roses and lilacs and freshly mowed grass and the salty smell of the sea or the crisp mountain air.
Do I ask for too much?
On my walk to the hospital (long story) yesterday, I encountered a pig in the grass. It stood happily in the shade enjoying the summer’s day. It made me smile when I needed to smile.
Do you know what this symbol represents? I do. It is my home, my third place, my heart. I fear I have known this symbol since birth if they had used that signage then. I am a reader. I have been a reader forever.
I am also a huge library user. Last year, I borrowed over 400 items (books, graphic novels, CDs, DVDs) from my local library. Even if I were rich, I could never afford to buy every thing that I want to read.
I love my library. They never look askew at the variety of items I borrow. Right now, I have out 2 picture books, 1 young adult novel, a non-fiction book about Rain, a ton of mysteries, a graphic novel, a fan-girl geek guide, and the Big Gay Ice Cream book.
I love all libraries. When I travel, like to Alaska last year, I like to visit at least one library. I still regret not popping into the National Library of Scotland in Edinburgh when I walked past it. I didn’t go in because I was lost and stressed. If I had gone in I would have become less stressed and (probably) less lost!
My ideal trip would be a tour of the world’s libraries. I’ve been a patron of at least half of the libraries in my province and have used one library in 3/4 of all the provinces in Canada. So, this is where I would start – visiting every library (public, private, special, university) in Canada and then moving on to the rest of the world.
I would need a list of how to translate the word library world-wide in every language possible. I tried to find such a list. I know this list exists. I saw it in a library book when I was in library school. After an hour sucked into the endless depths of the universe via Google, I cannot find the list. I wish my library was open on Sunday then I could just go find it in a book!
How long do you think this would take me? Keep in mind that my average library visit is usually two hours long. I think I might need another lifetime or two for this task.
If I start now, how long do you think it would take me to visit every library in the World? When I’m done, can I travel with the Doctor (please) to visit every past and future library also.
Sorry, no actual photo for this photo challenge. I have no car and the signage is on the road about a mile out (and I am not walking that far on this too, too hot day).
My muse is Halloween. It is my favourite holiday. I can’t resist taking yet even one more Halloween picture. This was taken on November 10, 2015. It is a lone ghost hanging around after the party is over. She was gone by the next snowfall and will (hopefully) return next year.
It is too hot right now and I am anticipating the coolness of Fall and eargerly awaiting next Halloween’s picture opportunities.
Even more of my Halloween posts and pictures here.
For most of my life this has been the view I see as I go on my way traveling here, there and everywhere. You think I would be sick and tired of it by now. However, the amazing truth is that no trip ever offers the same view even when I am traveling the same roads that I have traveled forever.
Unfortunately, my driving trips have never turned into anything like Mrs. Todd’s Shortcut.
This post is in response to Ailsa’s Travel Theme: Tangle.
When I think of a tangled mess, I think of Jewelry. Unless I kept mine in their individual boxes my necklaces were always in a tangle.
My Scottish grandparents use to buy us a necklace every Christmas when we were young. We only wore them to church. I was (am) a fiddler, if my necklaces were not in a tangled mess then their chains were broken from me constantly fiddling with them.
As a young adult, I wished to appear sophisticated so I bought my self jewelry. I never wore it. This is the last of what I bought all untangled and on its way to big sister’s house for the nieces and grand-nieces to enjoy.
I’m sitting here staring at an empty space
It’s not that I don’t have things to fill it with
In fact, I have an abundance of things
Thoughts, memories, hopes
But they’re all jumbled together
Tangled, like poorly stored necklaces
The chains wrapped tightly around each other
Almost impossible to separate
(First of three stanzas)
This is a hard question. How do I narrow the possibilities down to just one?
There are the famous I’d like to meet. Those I feel like I’ve known forever like Bernadette, Broadway actor extraordinaire whom I’d like to have seen on stage as the witch in Into The Woods. Susan, whom I’ve followed since Thelma and Louise first rode off into the sunset (and Geena, of course, who is such a smart woman and strong feminist). Jodie, whom I watch grow up on screen since I was just a wee bit like her. They could help me understand how one lives a happy, happy life in spite of all the idjits out there.
Then there are the historical women like Mary Shelley and her mother who had such interesting lives despite society’s views on their womanhood.
And what about all my fellow spinsters out there? I don’t have enough time to explore them all.
The answer to this question changes daily, nay, hourly, or by the minute!
My choice right now would be someone alive and kicking, someone nearish to my age so we could be life-long admirers of each other’s works. I would have liked to have had her childhood (she grew up in a funeral home) and I get her references because we have the same cultural markers in our lives. I shall start following her on facebook because, in this day and age, I can.
Her name is Alison Bechdel and I have read her comic since the beginning though heaven knows how I (a young woman in rural Saskatchewan) ever first discovered it since, Dykes to Watch Out For, a cartoon strip that ran for twenty-five years, between 1983 and 2008, ran mostly in alternative newspapers.
Her view point is not mine. Her life style is not one I aspire to. I like that she, as all these women do, shows me a different world that is, in many ways, exactly like my own.
So, here we have today’s (this minute’s) one singular sensation whom I would like to be reading my blog.
Describe your relationship with your phone. Is it your lifeline, a buzzing nuisance, or something in between?
I dread the ringing phone. I always have. I always will.
I grew up on government assistance. It was drilled in to me early to never answer the phone. It might be someone checking up on us and answering would only result in bad things happening.
So I learned to ignore the persistent ringing of the phone at my mother’s house. I wrote recently how annoyed she would get about this (bad) habit of mine.
I also ignored the phone at my father’s house. He was very particular about getting his messages correctly and would yell if a message was forgotten or wrongly transmitted. Thus, I learnt also to ignore his ringing phone and let the answering machine take the message.
The phone has never been my friend. I hate answering it. I hate making calls on it. There is too much that can be misconstrued.
I was not the type of teenager who spent hours talking to her friends on the phone. My youngest sister would get home at seven and still be talking with friends on the phone at midnight.
My university boyfriend would call me and chatter on for a half hour with little input from me. My mother (and other family members) don’t expect much from me on the phone besides an occasional “uh huh.”
I can not tell you how much I love the new smart phones. I don’t have to talk to anyone (mostly). I can get answers and services taken care of through text (mostly). This is heaven. This is bliss.
My mother worked as a telephone operator in her younger days and thus knew all the small town gossip. My older sisters have no trouble ignoring a ringing phone without feeling guilty. The phone to them is a useful tool. To me, a ringing phone is an incessant demon berating and punishing and never conveying good news.
No, a ringing phone is not my friend.
If you need to talk to me, text me please.
This is a picture of the first phone we ever owned. It sounds like this. It sits on my desk, loud and annoying. The ring, even turned all the way down, scares the cat. We are thankful that it barely rings once every few days.
Remember, text me, don’t call!
I got up at six am this morning!
I am not a morning person!
My cat, however, figures once the sun is up everybody needs to be up!
She can’t watch bird TV all by herself you know.
I use to be legendary for how long I could sleep in. It would be noon and I would still be abed. It would annoy my mother greatly when teenage me would lie abed and not get up to answer the ringing telephone (when it got to the tenth ring I knew the only person who could be calling was my mother).
I don’t usually get up early. If I’m awake after midnight it’s because I haven’t gone to bed yet. The last time I was awake at four am was because our plane home from Alaska didn’t land until after midnight and by the time the parents were dropped off and we got home it was almost five am and the sun was contemplating rising.
I miss sleeping in, luxuriating half-awake curled up under warm blankets for hours and hours.
I am not an early bird. I will not get the first, freshest worm! (Ugh).
I am, however, learning to enjoy cat naps with the cat. No wonder she is up early as she naps most of the day.
I did not go out today to catch the first light. It was too early. It was too cold. Instead I give you a September Sunset picture and leave you with these words of wisdom.
“Learn from yesterday, live for today, look to tomorrow, rest this afternoon.” ― Charles M. Schulz, Charlie Brown’s Little Book of Wisdom