On my trip off the peninsula to visit Paige I purchased another low end digital camera. What a difference from my old cheap camera…I went from 3 mega pixels to 8 mega pixels…which basically means if you get a half decent shot at full size, it’ll be an excellent photo for web publishing. All this prelude for this mornings picture of a willow grouse frozen to the ground at the sight of the cat. Toledo was oblivious to the bird, making it obvious why the grouses freezing defence strategy works so well.
Lots of bear scat on the trails. Most of the trails we use are old game trails that Court expanded and straightened. A friend a few miles away has had a bear mother with twin cubs hanging around her property…she too had a composter and bird seed out to attract them.
The hurricane winds story that began last December is seeing an end on our property. Our home is built out of logs and lumber that grew on the property and was milled here. One of our close neighbours bought a new mill last year and so he was a natural to ask to mill the wood that blew down this winter.
I took a picture of Court’s 1952 Canadian army truck(Court did the body work and yes those are teeth)pulling a twenty foot butt section of fir into place, and a picture of the 200 + year old stump it came from.
3 comments:
Hi-dear Anne,
its a real eye-opener reading about the bear and the ways of the mischevious little criters wanting a piece of the pie.
Too many of us live insulated and isolated lives in towns and cities stuck in ruts and seething with frustration caught as some are in ruts and roundabouts.
i must add that you & family are one of the fortunate ones despite all the hard work that inevitably crops up when living so close to the Great Outdoors. Kind of forces one to find a wholesome balance. Nature- red in tooth and claw? Who are you kiddin..
ps- i adore and am inspired by your pic of that dreamy sunset towards Vancouver Island!
Love-John
God Sunday morning John,
You're response to my blog this morning brings something to mind that I've been meaning to write about. When I used to read Neale's blog regularly I found it difficult not to criticize his use of resources to get the message out. I'm the kind of person who looks to see if a person is walking their talk. I wasn't even a little impressed with Neales' need to fly around the world...saving it. I think I wrote him a post asking him about the indiscriminate use of resources on a planet that is already maxed out with pollution.
About the same time I was making those observations about Neale I heard one of the environmental gurus (don't remember the name) talking about his mission to save the planet. He said he had been flying the world for years, spreading the message about not polluting the planet...until the day he realized what a hypocrite he was being. He realized that he was contributing to the woes of our blessed Mother. To fix that he started bicycling to work, including speaking engagements that might take days, even weeks to get to. He said he found it didn't cost more money...only a bit more time...and all his clients were more than willing to take the extra time.
I feel that until people are making the choices in lifestyle to "walk their talk" I am not inclined to listen, much less play follow the leader. I feel that until a person is living a "quality" lifestyle instead of a "quanity" lifestyle they are fooling themselves. That I find includes many of the self styled new age teachers, they are talking a talk without walking that talk.
In ways poverty can be preferable to riches, Jesus pointed that out. I think one of the advantages might be that poverty can be what keeps us from being able to really abuse our Mother Earth. My parents are partly responsible for my need to always live isolated, it started with the summer cottage. As a young adult I quickly learned that I was destined for nothing but trouble in the city...I lived in Montreal and Quebec City...both beautiful, vibrant, and deadly with temptations for a young adult, like drugs.
I have consistently stuck with my choice to live in the deep woods since my twenties...and you're right...it is hard work. I find that a certain type of person collects in places like these...individuals. One of my habits when I lived closer to civilization was to look for places to live on dead end roads...again certain types are attracted...types I got along with better than most city folk.
Listen to me getting long winded this morning. For all the hardship and work...it has been living rural that has enabled me to connect with and maintain that connection with spirit. I found a small ditty by
Thoreau that says it best...
"When I would recreate myself, I seek the darkest wood, the thickest most interminable, and to the citizen, most dismal swamp. I enter a swamp as a sacred place - a sanctum sanctorum. There is the strength, the marrow of nature. The wild wood covers the virgin mould - and the same soil is good for men and trees. "
Sending tons of love, heaps of peace and oodles of laughs your way today...
Anne
Thank you friend Anne, those wise sayings of Thoreau describe to a T my passion and love for all things wild and mysterious that's (nurturing) precious Mother nature.
Living in built up areas one can become de-sensitized to everything that spiritually sustains..., and that's a shame. i make sure i go for walks near the sea, listening to the sounds of the leaves in the breeze, brushing away those cobwebs and feeling a-o-k again, until the next time.
i agree fully with you that Neale Donald Walsh is not walking his talk, such a shame-- with all those air miles and extravagant cruizes, his eco footprint must be horrendous; Maybe some day he might see the error in his ways and convert.
Thinking of all those beautiful silent forests and swamps and woods and pristine sunsets it makes me angry, frustrated that our beautiful Mother, Gaia, is being trashed and trampled mercilessly in mankind's quest for what seems like trite ego gratification at the end of the day. And at what cost to our finite natural, life-giving environment. Huh.
With Love to you,friend.-John
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