PhotoHunt - pink

It really is too bad Pinklea is off on holidays, probably sipping on pink gins - she would love this. I thought of her and have been waiting to post this (not very good) photo of a pink Harley I saw in front of a motorcycle shop about a month ago.

Then there is this beautiful Art Deco house that I make a point of walking past whenever I walk to the grocery store, just because I love it. There is another, similar house, painted white, that doesn't quite manage to capture the imagination the same way compared to this one.

As much as I love flowers, I have a hard time with flowering plants. They come home from the garden centre with lovely blooms. The blooms fade and die, as they do. Then, nothing. I am left with a pot full of greenery that never blossoms again. I had a begonia that I fussed over for at least 15 years that grew lovely leaves and was divided into several pots, but nary a blossom ever after its first bloom. I think I inherited that from my mother who always said she could never grow flowering plants.

But she could grow African Violets. She had dozens of them lined up on her north facing windowsill in the living room. Little pots of cuttings lined her kitchen windowsill. And she was rewarded with glorious blooms that were the envy of the neighbours. After she passed way, we divided the violets up and I came home with four of them. Three were in bloom. A friend gave me three more in the mistaken belief that I liked African Violets and would be pleased to have more. I wasn't. But I kept them anyway, waiting for the blooms to fade to dust. Two of the plants obligingly died, leaving four with glorious but boring (in my opinion) leaf growth. I must admit to not taking their care too seriously.

So, you can imagine my surprise, when I spotted this one morning while giving it some much needed water. A BUD!

Then TWO BUDS!

Which has now become this

And so conveniently in pink, my not so favourite colour.

I have placed the other three surrounding it, so they can watch in wonder and perhaps get some competitive ideas...

For more PINK

'the cottage'

Thanksgiving 1981?

Fred and the infamous outhouse

and a bonus - a pair of glasses!!

behind me is the built in shelves

summer respite

Whenever I hear the caw caw caw of a crow, I am immediately transported to 'the cottage'. There are many things that will remind me of the cottage, but none are as strong or as immediate as the sound of a crow. No idea why - there were surely many other birds there and just as surely crows around our house in the city - but it is a fond feeling, so I don't question it. I merely sigh and allow it to wash over me for a few seconds.

The cottage wasn't ours, it belonged to neighbours Betty and Fred who every summer invited my mother and brother and I to spend a week or two with them. The cottage next door belonged to her sister and quite often one of her daughters and her family were also there. It was a multi-generational gathering, mostly of women, except for the weekends when the fathers would reappear. I'm not entirely sure how my mother felt about this rustic experience, but for my brother and I it has marked us indelibly.

Because of the age difference between my brother and myself, the cottage is the one thing that we share the same memories of - because it never changed.

It was built on the shores of Lake Simcoe back in the 40s. Very small, with inter joining rooms and a loft bedroom in the back and high rafters in the front. The stairs to the loft were basically a chair beside the built in cupboard which when opened provided the cantilevered shelves as steps which one clambered over to get to the beam which you then climbed over to reach the floor of the boys' bedroom. For years, I was distraught as my legs were too wee to make it up the steep, high, shelving steps. There was a Quebec Heater (wood burning stove) in the front room for heat and a wood burning cookstove in the kitchen for cooking. A large galvanized pail held the daily drinking water, for the water that came out of the taps was directly from the lake and not potable. The outhouse was out back. That bit does not have pleasant memories, yet for years I felt a true cottage did not have a flush toilet - that was a second home, not a cottage. I've gotten over that.

Cottages are for escape, for roughing it in the bush. This cottage was Betty's first home. It was decorated in 1950, and it oozed their personal non-style. By the time it was sold around 1999 it still had the same curtains and curios. The same mismatched furniture. The same Fiesta Ware dishes for the adults. The same Melmac dishes for the kids. The same magazines. It was like walking into a time warp. So very familiar every time, as you knew exactly what to expect and where to find it. I sometimes wonder if this is where my brother and I both found our love of antiques. I inherited one of the dressers and an old quilt that for years had that same cottage-y musty smell. My brother and I helped with the final clearout when all that the family wanted had been taken and for some reason we took all the hooks off the bedroom walls that were used for hanging clothes and divided them between us as a memento.

Coincidentally, he now lives in that same town and for a couple of years I lived in a town not far away. We still get dreamy remembering 'the cottage'. We would have loved to have bought it had we the money. Though with the sale, a new septic tank and indoor plumbing and toilet would have had to be installed. This one was built just before the cutoff date when all cottages in the area had to put in septics in the 80s. So the outhouse remained. Even when the property next door was sold, and the first monster home, with large windows and a spiral staircase, was built in place of the wooden bungalow. One of those large bay windows faced onto Fred's land. The outhouse sat tucked in the trees outside their dining room window. We all felt that was worth the giggle as we sometimes waved to them on our way...

Now, there are very few cottages left on this prime land. It looks like any suburban street, albeit one with a lake at the back of the house and a forest across the street.

I dearly wish I knew someone with a cottage who would invite me for a leisurely visit. I have read all the magazines - I know about house gifts for the cottage owner. I know to bring books to read and share, and that sometimes no conversation is needed as you sit on the dock and listen to the water slapping against the rocks. That the best way to get rid of mosquitoes is to build a great bonfire. And I'm not fussy, I'll eat the fish that is caught (if someone else guts it). I'll even help catch it. Or buy it, if need be.

And I have an ample collection of Food&Drink magazines from the LCBO.........

A Way to Have A Happy July First

Classic Caesar Recipe

• 4 oz. Clamato Cocktail
• 1.5 oz vodka
• 2 dashes Worcestershire sauce
• 1 dash Tabasco sauce
celery salt
celery stalk
lime wedge
pepper to taste
pinch salt to taste

Mixing instructions:
Rim a highball glass with lime, celery salt, and salt.
Add vodka and juice to ice,
and season with pepper, Worcestershire sauce, and Tabasco.

Roll gently to mix flavours and then garnish with a celery stick.

Sit back in a chair on the lawn and enjoy.
Repeat as many times as necessary.

If it rains, sit inside and look up Lone Grey Squirrel's finds on Canada, What a Really Big Country we are.
Or watch two very, very different solitudes of Life in Canada:
Corner Gas reruns all day (on The Comedy Network)
Trailer Park Boys reruns all day (on Showcase)

Happy Canada Day

142nd Birthday

Monday AMuse

SundayStills - things with wings

The Spirit Catcher has spread its wings over Kempenfeldt Bay in Barrie for over 20 years. It was originally created for Expo86 in Vancouver by Ron Baird and was later purchased and donated for the Barrie Gallery Project as an inspiration for the creation of an art gallery.

Inspired by West Coast First Nations mythology, the Thunderbird is a powerful spirit in the form of a bird that carries our messages, dreams and desires to the Creator. The 20 tonne sculpture is 65' high and has 16 kinetic quills in the wings that rock back and forth as the wind blows.

200 km to the southwest, a cormorant spreads its wings over Burlington Bay

The Double-crested Cormorant is a large fish-eating bird found throughout the Great Lakes that has undergone dramatic changes in population over the last three decades. The cormorant disappeared as a nesting bird on Lakes Michigan and Superior and only about ten pairs remained on Lake Ontario by the 1950s. From the early 1970s however, the cormorant population has increased over 500-fold. The cormorant is now more numerous on the Great Lakes than at any time in its previously recorded history.

for more things with wings see SundayStills

"Terrified tipplers

stampede the LCBO"

Yup, apparently there was panic in the streets of [Toronto] Ontario as the threat of 608 liquor stores being closed as a strike deadline at midnight loomed. People were stocking up on hundreds of dollars worth of all important and vital supplies as coolers, vodka (the most popular items it seems, with some stores sold out completely) and wine. The LCBO saw unprecedented sales and barely had time to restock shelves due to staff being too busy working the cash registers. Ringing in the best one day sales ever - over $60 million! (updated figures)

In Ontario the sale of alcohol is mostly available in government controlled outlets - LCBO (Liquor Control Board of Ontario) stores sell wines and spirits and some beer, and The Beer Store (formerly known as Brewer's Retail before it was dumbed down for the beer drinking tourists) which is controlled by a conglomerate of breweries, is allowed to only sell beer. You cannot buy alcohol in corner stores or grocery stores as in many other civilized places, although some grocery stores have boutique wine outlets with limited offerings. Then again, there is always the option of going to the wineries or breweries themselves to get an even wider supply of local bottles not available in the LCBO.

In the end, the long line ups in the 3 day old "heatwave" was for nought. The strike deadline was extended. All stores will be open as usual, but with little product to sell and staff likely standing around staring out the windows, wondering where the now slightly less terrified public is storing their panic-bought goods.

Really? "terrified"??

headline from The Toronto Star - photo from The Globe & Mail