crazy pastor lady

We've had a kids day camp at my church all week long. Which means we provide yummy lunches and snacks.

And it turns out, the local wildlife agrees.

Last night, after everyone had cleared out except me, I came downstairs to set the alarm and exit - and this little guy was right outside the door.

Funny, we've had a few times when we've arrived in the morning to evidence of various city critters, but in all the years I've been here, I've never had a raccoon in broad daylight as I was exiting the building.

We have at home. Not at the church.

We've had bats. And mice. Not raccoons in broad daylight.

So I banged on the door and he ran off, allowing me to safely exit.

Except ...

He ran under my car. It was the only shelter in the lot. Hunkered down there and watched my every move. I tried setting off the car alarm, and although his tail jumped every time the horn went, he refused to budge.

I waited awhile. He stared, unmoving, clearly prepared to out-wait me.

So ...

I slooooowly approached the car and put my stuff in it ... backed away to see if he was still under the front bumper ... he was ... slowly approached the open door of the driver's side ... and took a mighty leap into the car.

I'm guessing that was amusing

for neighbours who had no idea

why the crazy pastor lady

was cautiously circling and leaping into her car

in an empty parking lot.

"She's lost it. Burn-out.

I've seen it before.

Classic.

Sad, really."

Sat in there for awhile. And then saw this, outside the passenger window.

Hmm. Same guy? Did he run out from under the car without me seeing? Or a friend, worried that I'm about to kill his little buddy?

Sigh. Started the car. Saw his ears flick up in alarm. Ever so slowly, started backing up, an inch at a time.

By the time I backed all the way up, there was definitely no critter under the car. Unless he backed up with me. Maybe he did.

Maybe it's a little "bit" they've developed.

"Confuse the crazy pastor lady."

Who knows.

No raccoons were harmed in the writing of this post.

the air i breathe

Well ... I'm simply gonna need to stop breathing for awhile.

Last night, a skunk must have sprayed right outside our bedroom window flooding the air within. Ugh. I ended up moving out to the couch, and still slept with a pillow over my face, waking up to cough at the stench every now and then.

Early this morning, the air outside was clear, but of course - full of spring pollen and other allergens that make me sneezy, exhausted and nauseous. I took a Claritin and opened the windows for a bit.

Then I burned some candles. Not the scented ones that I bought a few months ago - I discovered they make my throat itchy.

Ran the air conditioner, but I'm pretty sure that skunk smell is right in the system now. Or just stuck in my nose.

So a few hours later, I've opened the windows again, only to discover that the special steely-scent that is north-end Hamilton every now and again is part of today's air.

Lovely.

I've called a couple of companies for quotes on removing a skunk.

Meanwhile, if anyone has a lavender-scented oxygen mask I could borrow, that would be fantastic.

love my city

I'll admit that yesterday involved a lot of mental pacing. Some actual pacing as well. Forced myself to read a book and watch a movie, trying to avoid checking emails.

First day of vacation can be tricky. It takes a bit to go from top-speed to no-speed, and I knew I had to do a bit - *just a BIT* - of work this morning, so my brain refused to unwind.

But around noon today, as I walked out of my office, I felt my core muscles begin to physically relax, felt my mind take a step back, and my soul breathed deeply.

Vacation.

I can walk to this place from our in-the-city home in about five minutes.

And then I just kept walking. Couldn't believe how many of these bikes I saw, by the way. Wow, way to go Hamilton - definitely a hit!

This guy's on vacation too, I presume.

Some people really need to get completely out of the city to enjoy nature.

Me - I revel in the combined life of it all. A spring breeze ... dads fishing with their kids ... "did you step in the water, honey?" -- "yeessss" ... cranes (machines, not birds) rising into the sky, signifying new development ... tiny birds skipping across my path ... a few boats in the water already ... sounds of industry in the distance ...

I love looking at the water, with the train yard behind it, and the city behind that. A picture of life, lots of it, right there.

Aaahhh.

I love my city.

what makes a monday better

Woke up yesterday morning.

It was rainy and dreary. I was determined to make the best of it, but my determination was not so helpful as you might think.

Until I glanced out my window and saw ... kittens!

Couple of jet-black ones.

A calmer, sleepier one.

They were at that amusing stage of kitten-hood in which declaring war on a blade of grass is just about The Most Exciting Thing In The World. A little orange sibling joined in, and then fell off the porch. Twice.

Then one of the black ones realized he was kinda sleepy too.

And then this happened.

Well, THAT was a refreshing nap.

Oh, hello there. We'll just pause while you take a stunningly beautiful photo of our adorable selves.

FAQ:

Where did they come from? I don't know. Under the porch is my best guess.

Where's their mom? I don't know. Perhaps she went off for a well-deserved pedicure.

Did you feed them? No. Are you going to? No.

Did you keep them? *achoo!* um *sniffle* are you insane? *sneeze* Excuse me while my eyes redden and swell.

One. Great. City.

I love where we live.

Have I mentioned that?

Probably.

But listen, here's the thing.

When Spike and I go for a walk towards the waterfront and bunnies pause for photo opps ...

When I see Twitter pics of the new restaurant opening down here (because I follow these guys, and they were there before anyone else) ...

When we exchange bites of raspberry-cheesecake and orange-pineapple ice cream cones from Scoops while gazing at sailboats ...

When total strangers walk by our house and stop to chat because the plumbing adventure unexpectedly led to a new-and-improved front yard ...

And when every time I walk through that gate, I know I'm home ...

... I can't help it.

I love where I live.

This is one great city.

is this a Monty Python scene?

Last Saturday, Spike and I went for an impromptu picnic. We had been grocery shopping, realized we were starving, and none of the food we had just purchased was picnic-worthy.

So we dropped the groceries at home, grabbed a little cooler, went BACK to the grocery store, picked up some picnic-friendly foodie bits and headed off to "any green space, near some water, with a picnic table".

We wanted a picnic table
because when we grabbed the cooler at home,

we also grabbed a blanket.

And then we set it down.

And left it on the kitchen counter.

Found a green space. Near a creek. No picnic tables. Started down a deserted path anyway, found a clearing with fallen logs, plopped down on the logs, opened the cooler and feasted.

Note: the clearing literally was along the side of the path, but no one was there, so what does it matter?

We munched on fresh bread and old cheese and local strawberries. Waved hello to the one lady walking her dog. Slowly became immersed in deep conversation, just the two of us, regarding Important Life Events as we slurped watermelon in between chocolate-covered almonds.

Until Spike glanced up, paused mid-sentence, and said quietly, "There are people coming. With nametags. A lot of them."

Suddenly, without any explanation, a troupe of 30 to 40 adults, all wearing nametags, strode cheerfully and energetically through our little clearing. We nodded and smiled until we looked like bobble heads. A few stragglers brought up the rear. And then they were gone, the woods returned to peaceful silence, and we were left to ourselves again.

Seemed odd.

bees

I was sitting outside early this morning with my coffee, my journal, and my phones, both cell and landline. (Phones were in case Spike called or texted. Which he did. And that was nice.)

Morning glory has grown rapidly up its tower, as it always does. Just two blooms though. I keep reminding myself that it's only early August. It will bloom in a few weeks. And yet I don't even see any blooms in process. Where are the flowers?

Then I think about my tomatoes which have been incredibly non-productive this year. They didn't grow more than a foot high, and I got a grand total of 6 marble-size tomatoes from 4 plants. Nothing else is happening. I think they were upset about the loss of the tree. They didn't WANT more sunshine, no matter what the experts say.

Then I think back to our days of living near High Park, in Toronto. Good days. Very good days. We loved living there. In fact, that was our all-time favourite place we had ever lived ... until this place where we live now. We lived on a 3rd-floor walk-up in an old, giant house. There wasn't a balcony, but there was a roof ledge outside a window, with a little decorative wall across it. Just big enough to hold a couple of tomato plants. They grew huge, but not a single tomato did they yield. I finally realized - I should have sent a memo out to the bees that there were tomatoes way up high among the trees, and those tomatoes needed some pollinating.

Which reminded me of that movie - Bees, was it? - where there weren't enough bees to pollinate plants, and everything was dying. And then I remembered my sister saying something about a world shortage of bees for the Punk's lizard to eat. (Oh wait, that's crickets, not bees. Never mind.)

Still. What if there is a tremendous bee blight going on, which is stopping my morning glory from blooming, and my tomatoes from yielding a harvest of any kind? What if we just can't grow food anymore, because the bees are all gone?

I thought about that for awhile, outside in my garden, sipping my coffee this morning.

And then a bee flew directly into my head and got tangled in my hair, while I frantically (but silently) flailed my arms around to get it out, GET IT OUT!

And thus ended my morning meditation.

we have flies

I remember my grandparents' farm. Making my way through a mob of chattering chickens to gather  freshly-laid eggs. Picking raspberries. Gathering items of interest from the bush out back. Wheelbarrow rides around the farmhouse. (It never occurred to me that the wheelbarrow might have any other purpose.) Scooping up handfuls of perfectly smooth and spherical soy beans, and letting them pour back out through my fingers. Reading endless ancient copies of Readers Digest in the little space behind the kitchen woodstove.

And the flies.

I remember the flies.

I remember flies, because I killed a gazillion of them this morning. And last night. And yesterday morning.

My friends - I don't live on my grandparents' farm. Flies are acceptable on a farm, for some reason. But I'm an urban dweller.

Why the flies???!!

In a moment of desperation recently, Spike grabbed the handiest container near him and sprayed wildly. It was mildly helpful. For the record, Febreeze air freshener - specifically Lavendar Vanilla & Comfort - slows them down. If you spray them, they land and stagger around just long enough for you to squish them with whatever your squishing tool of choice is. (Mine is a paper towel. Spike's is a bare hand. Eewww.)


On the bright side, all the mosquitos appear to have perished in the recent heat wave. No West Nile virus for me. Just typhoid, cholera, tuberculosis, or any other of 100 pathogens that apparently the common house fly carries.

What a relief.

pink on my property

It started as a typical Sunday.

5 AM - Alarm
8 AM (or just after) - Arrive at work
10:34 AM - Service begins
Noon - Service ends
1 PM - Lunch
3 PM - Home, sleepy, for a couple of hours before heading back. But before I crash ... gotta water my tomato plants.

Head to the back veggie garden, water the tomatoes. Slowly realize I am staring at a wall that I'm not usually staring at. It's on the other side of the street which runs in front of the house whose back yard backs onto our back yard. And I don't usually stare at it because there is usually a wall of foliage at the back of my back yard that blocks it.

????

Look around. Look up. Look down. Wasn't there something here? Did the neighbour behind me clear up foliage? Because I really thought there was something on my side of the old chain link fence. And when did this tree stump and fresh wood chips appear? Bewildered gestures, as I slowly realize - somebody cut down my tree!

No one is in the back yard into which I am now staring, a yard which I have never clearly seen before. Next door to them, a couple of adults are swimming in a new pool. Their back yard backs onto our garage, beside the vegetable garden. They don't notice me. Their foliage is mostly still intact.

I head inside, tell Spike, and we both stare in amazement from our kitchen through the hole to the other side. "What are ya gonna do?" he asked. "Well, I don't want to start a war," I said. "I guess I'll call the city tomorrow, and talk to by-law people and ask them how I should handle it."

I paused. "The people in the pool behind-and-beside might have seen something. Maybe I'll just ask them if they know anything."

Back outside, peer through their foliage and tentatively call towards the pool - "Hello? Hi. I know this is weird ... sorry ... it's just ... I had a tree here ... " another bewildered gesture ... "and I'm just wondering if you have any idea what happened?"

Lady shoots meaningful look to her husband, silently points at him, and he says, "Um ... I cut it down. I knocked, but no one was home."

"But ... it's ... why would you ... ??!!??" I ask in shock.

"It was just a weed," he says.

"I have a 7-inch tree stump here," I say.

"Well, yeah, but it was just one of those wild maples ... It just was sort of ... I knocked, but no one was home." He smiles shamefacedly.  "Forgiveness? The good news is it'll grow back ... "

"Well ... sure, forgiveness ... I mean ... well, next time, maybe couldja get permission first??!!"

"Sure, yeah, sorry ... it just was kinda wild looking ... and I knocked, but no one was home ..."

"... OK, but it's just ... well, I value my privacy ...." I leave hanging the unspoken sentence that the reason we've never met is because of the wall of foliage. And the tree isn't even bordering his property at all. It's between me and his next-door neighbour. And it's MY WEED-TREE!!

So I head back inside, and Spike says, "Well, THAT'S not OK." "Well, it's done now," I say. And we go to sleep.

An hour later, a knock at the door. I ain't getting up for nobody but Spike answers, to a chorus of, "We're sorry! We're so sorry. We bought you a tree."

They introduce themselves, which brings the number of neighbours named Mike to 5. Spike sputters thanks and introduces himself, and they said, "Your wife was just so disturbed about her privacy. And she was just so nice about it, she didn't yell or anything. We're so sorry. We're sorry."

I went out and planted it at 6:30 AM today, chuckling to myself, because this is going to make a great post for my blog. I'll probably take over some pickled beets later today, as a gesture of forgiveness.

Guy directly behind us offered a rather startled "morning" as he came out his back door and saw me where a wall of foliage used to be. I suspect he's wondering what happened too. I'll let him find out on his own that his next-door neighbour had a moment of insanity and chopped down the foliage between us.

And here's the irony. It's a flowering almond. With, according to the tag, large bright pink double blooms. Pink.

I'm going to have to forgive him over and over again.

groundhogs and other important things

There are some Matters of Great Importance taking place this week.

First, on Saturday morning, Spike and I were sitting outside discussing some of the finer points of quantum physics in relation to chocolate for breakfast, when all of a sudden we both stopped talking and exclaimed, "WHAT was THAT???"

It was a groundhog. I know this, because later in the day when I was all by myself, he came out again, and then scooched under the deck. If I moved really slowly, I could lean back and see a nose and one eye peeking out from under the deck, about two feet away from me. We eyed each other for awhile, until finally he worked his way out, stood up on his hind feet and said hello. I presume it was hello. I don't speak groundhog. He could have been swearing at me for all I know. But I don't think so. He posed for several pictures, which are on my phone. I don't know how to get pictures off my phone. So I give you a pic that I googled - it looks like my new friend. He is very cute. And I love him.

Second, here is my to-do list for the next couple of weeks. Finish a paper today, hand it in tomorrow. Frantically catch up on a lot (and I do mean a LOT) of school reading. Create study notes. Study them. Write a final exam (next Thursday). Don't cry for me. This is what I live for, no matter how much I complain. Then I may contact a couple of guest lecturers whom I found really interesting, and glean further knowledge from them. (I know. I'm a nerd. That's been established already.)

Third - and most importantly - tomorrow is the day for which I have been waiting. It is a big day. Don't get in my way on this day, for when I head out the office door (a little bit early, I confess), I am going to GET A HAIR CUT and nothing shall deter me. I missed the last one, which was a bit traumatizing. Now I look like the Bugs Bunny sheepdog, lifting my hair with one hand so I can see where I'm going. Spike likes it. I don't know what to tell him, because IT IS STILL GETTING CUT, although I love him very much. More than the groundhog, even.

Oh, also a little friend and I did our toenails on Saturday night. Mine are deep, dark red now, which is a little startling when I look down. Again, my camera isn't working, so I was going to google you a pic. But it turns out there's a disease or condition called "red toenail" and having just googled pics of it, I am heartily grossed out.

You'll just have to imagine my startling toes.

chip or dale?

I have a new critter.

You know there have been critters on this blog.

The kittens.

A bunny.

A peregrine falcon. (Probably good it wasn't in the yard at the same time as the bunny.)

And possibly Mr. Tumnus.

Surprisingly, it would appear that I have not blogged about the raccoons or the squirrels. I'll have to do that sometime ... if you haven't heard the stories, you will laugh!

But I have a new critter. A chipmunk.

Not the slow chubby kind that has been fed by humans since birth.

He's a skinny little thing that moves at the speed of light and can stop on a dime.

Yesterday I saw him again on the deck, on the edge of a planter. Now if he had been a squirrel ... well, that's another story to be told someday ... but he's a chipmunk. He's adorable. He can stay. And he snuggled into the planter, right under the alyssum.

He was so busy under there that I managed to sneak outside and across the deck undetected, while he busied himself within his personal Garden of Eden, moving about under the blooms, evidently dusting and tidying the place. Finally I said, "Um...excuse me...hey!" And up popped his head, cheeks bulging ridiculously. He looked like a cartoon. I burst out laughing and he was gone - probably to blog about the giant monster looming over the edge of his garden.

kittens!

Last evening, I glanced out my patio door, and saw movement in my veggie garden. And by veggie garden, I mean rectangular area of dirt, yet to be planted. Took a closer look (we've had bunnies before, to my delight) and saw ... ohmygosh ... kittens!

Five perfect little furballs, exploring their 3-inch high world. They aren't walking yet, so much as doing those four-legged leaps that make them so darn adorable. Clover was an obstacle to jump over, a patio stone was a mountain to climb, and the forget-me-nots a jungle in which to get lost. Every now and then, one of them would bat a leaf (or another kitten) and then bounce around with excitement.

Mama cat eyed me firmly, then wandered off. (I suspect she was thankful for a babysitter so she could get out for awhile.)

With Mama out of the way, I made my way slowly closer to these joyful little piles of fluff. But Mama has them well-trained - they tolerated me up until about five feet away, and then silently withdrew in unison, backing into the bushes. I squatted down and waited, and a few minutes later - pop! - the bravest of them poked her head up just high enough to see if I was still there. Giggles on my part.

This morning, I didn't see them. Until Mama returned, eyed me again, and then went into the bushes to wake up and feed her little brood. This time there were only four. And then she led one of them away through the hedge.

Tonight - they're all gone.

But my smile is still here.

house of mouse

I am Millhouse, hear me snore
I will not chase the mice no more
For I am old, and I am tired
I've done my work - I have retired

I checked all this with my friend, Myrt
She says, "no more!" to mice alerts
We called a truce and made a vow
That ancient feud is history now

If lions and lambs together may be
We cats and mice ask - why can't we?
Our union met, we took a vote
And so I send this final note

To owners who their feet do tap
Jolting me from my two o'clock nap
This note informs you things will change
No longer will I guard your range

For with the mice I made a deal
A furry pawshake was the seal
I don't bug them, they don't bug me
(They live right next to where I pee)

Rant and rage all through the day
I don't care, the mice can play
Set me right before their hole
I'll walk away, I've sold my soul

Utter threats of tasteless chow
(I only get the cheap food NOW!)
It's over now, you have no power
I'm going to snooze here for an hour

For I am Millhouse, LOUD I snore!
I am too weary now to roar
Just leave me be, and shut the door
I WILL NOT catch those mice no more

birdies

He's back!

The big, bright, beautiful blue jay is back in our yard!

Do blue jays go south for the winter? I don't know. He went somewhere.

The cardinals returned a couple weeks ago, the male apparently having remarried immediately after his wife's death-by-cat. It's caused a bit of gossip among the yard wildlife, but she's here, and they're happy, so whatever.

But no one knows where the blue jay went. All we know is - he's back. Perched just a few feet outside my patio door, so Spike and I could admire him yesterday morning.

Spring has sprung

The crabgrass is riz

Back in my yard

The birdies iz!

urban wildlife

Last night, I went outside to cut some herbs for our potatoes. (Spike is absolutely loving this form of potato, which is pretty cool, since he generally is not a big potato fan, unless there is a lot of cheese and bacon bits in the mix.)

I heard a sound behind me, and turned to see something streaking through the yard behind me, and then park itself under the spruce (?) tree in front of the garage. It was a baby bunny!!

All together now - "AAAAAWWWWWW!!!"

Cutest little thing you ever did see, and he just sat there and looked at me, so I sat down on the grass and looked back. The only difference between us was that my nose wasn't twitching. He was only about 6 feet away, sitting in the shade of the tree. Spike eventually came through the gate and managed to come and sit down beside me - still the cutey lil bunny rabbit sat there.

Eventually he turned away, and then did a big stre-e-e-e-e-e-e-tch up on all four legs, with an arched back, and the little tremble you get right at the end of the perfect stretch. Then he sat back down, and proceeded to wash his face, glancing at us every so often. Finally, several minutes later, he waved goodbye, and hopped off.

OK, he didn't wave.

But he's still a cutie!

eek!!!

A note on a clipboard greeted us upon arrival at work today. The clipboard was strategically placed over a garbage can. Can you read what it says?

"Roy and Patti - Mouse in garbage pail - Bob"

a wow and a chuckle

Wow - I think Joe's peregrine falcon was in our yard on Friday night! I looked out the window, and there he was, just a few feet away, tearing away at something he was eating. He was there for several minutes, but not long enough for me to get my camera. Quite something to see.

Chuckle - Our street is small, with parking on both sides. Snow plows shun us in a storm until the last possible minute. Seriously. Last night, just before 6 pm, a plow went through, clearing one swipe on our street. Minutes later, on the 6:00 news, it was reported that Hamilton's streets and side streets have all been officially and fully cleared. Are we ACTUALLY the last street to be plowed? Do they call it in when they get to the end of our street?

he's not so bad after all

(in the spirit of the guest contributers on Sheepdog's blog)

Look upon me with admiration. Point and whisper in awe.

For last night, I did tear around the living room, without warning. And those who claim to own me did holler at me to stop running around like a crazy cat.

And then they saw the reason.

For I did catch a mouse.

And I did hang onto it in my mouth, until a garbage bag had been brought unto me.

And I did then deposit its corpse into that same bag.

And then those who claim to own me apologized for calling me crazy, and they did treat me with renewed respect.

So, I say, look upon me with admiration, for I am Millhouse, Catcher of Mice.

(Now go away, or I shall bite thee.)

my world makes me laugh

Today I tricked myself into going for a run (the self-deception is often necessary on a Monday, when I don't feel like doing anything) - and a deer literally ran across my path! I think it was a deer. Truthfully, it looked like a pony, because I thought I saw a mane. And it had short legs. But then it left the mane behind on a bush as it ran away. And how could it be a pony? I know there are deer roaming the area, but I've never heard of wild ponies. So it must have been a short deer. Right? Any other ideas??

There was also a black and orange fuzzy caterpillar which managed to get all the way to the other side of the path by the time I ran back.

And right now, there must be a weird air current going across the balcony, because I can see a solitary leaf swirling around like a hovercraft - not quite touching anything, but swooping and dancing around like it's got its own source of power.

BTW - had a great time last night hashing out some thoughts about the quote in my last post! And for those that were there - you made a great band!