Jack’s Walk

©voyager, all rights reserved

It’s a double gravity sort of day for me and I’ve been dragging my ass. The weather is cold and damp with a blustery, biting wind, and the sky is dreary and heavy with clouds. It’s not the sort of day that invites you to come out and play. Nonetheless, I did manage to walk Jack around the neighbourhood and by the time we arrived back home, I was feeling a bit better. We took our walk slowly, and it gave Jack a chance to smell lots of fallen leaves. He tells me that it’s important to smell the leaves because that’s how the trees talk to him. I asked him what the trees were saying, and Jack told me that some of them are thirsty and some of them are looking forward to winter, and this one beside us wants him to pee somewhere else. Oh. Alright, then Bubba, I guess we’d better go. Silly mummy, he said and lifted his leg to pee

Jack’s Walk

I make my own sunshine. ©voyager, all rights reserved

“Wake up. You have to get up now,” I heard my husband call out sharply from the hallway.

“Why,” I call back, already getting up. Mr. doesn’t use that tone often, so I know there’s a problem.

“There’s been an accident out front.”

Oh. Just that. Again. We live near a high school and at certain times of day a few cars speed through the corner near our house. I looked at the clock. Yup, 8:15, the busiest time of day.

I was having trouble shaking myself awake as I grabbed my robe and stiffly hurried to the door hoping no-one was hurt. Mr. was already at the door and when we looked out, the first thing we saw was a shiny black car resting on the sidewalk about a foot from our front lawn and very near the spot that Jack likes to sit and greet the kids who walk to school. The front end was bent and twisted and looked beyond repair. In the other direction, we saw another shiny black car with its passenger door smashed in, and between the vehicles, there was a field of debris littering the road and two men standing talking under a single blue striped golf umbrella. Great – no-one hurt. I made my way to the kitchen, put on the coffee and was heading to the bathroom when I heard a knock on my door. Standing there was a strapping, young fireman wearing all his gear who smiled at me pleasantly and told me that the car would be removed soon and not to worry. Mam. He called me mam. I thanked him and smiled back, wishing him a good day. When I finally made it to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. One side of my hair was wild and sticking out at all angles and the other side was plastered to my head. My fluffy pink bathrobe was sporting a big stain of some sort, and my face was full of pillow wrinkles. Best of all, I wasn’t wearing my dentures and suddenly realized that I’d given the guy a great big, Granny Clampett, toothless grin.

And how was your morning?

Holidays: Sagrada Familia 6

These are the last pictures by daylight. Remember that we went there in  the evening especially so we could come back later to see it in the dark? Definitely worth it!

©Giliell, all rights reserved

©Giliell, all rights reserved

©Giliell, all rights reserved

©Giliell, all rights reserved

©Giliell, all rights reserved

©Giliell, all rights reserved

 

 

Jack’s Walk

Blow, wind, blow. ©voyager, all rights reserved

I had a bit of time this morning, so I thought I’d give Bubba a treat and home took him for a walk in the woods. It’s a blustery day here, and I thought we’d be somewhat protected from the wind in the forest, and this turned out to be true. I forgot to factor in that those giant trees towering above me, protecting us from the wind, were being buffeted by it and were blowing around – a lot. We’ve been to the forest before on windy days and you can hear the trees squeak and creak as they rock to and fro. It’s a bit eerie, but Jack was so excited that we sang a few songs to drown out the noise and carried on bravely. I say bravely, but stupidly is probably more accurate. We were just about halfway around when we heard a sharp crack just above us, followed by a sudden earth-shaking, crackling thud about 20 feet behind us. A large branch had fallen onto the path and lay there still quivering. Holy Shit! That was way too close. If Jack had been lingering behind me as usual instead of trying to share my croissant, he would have been toast. If I’d been just a bit more leisurely, I could have been toast. We sped up a bit then (there’s only so fast a Jack and a voyager can go) and made it back to our car without further incident.

Note to self: Update the don’t do list one more time.

Jack’s Walk

©voyager, all rights reserved

We’re having a small family feast at casa voyager today in honour of Canadian Thanksgiving. There will only be 3 of us humans, myself, Mr. V and his brother, but there will be 2 big, slobbery dogs on hand to round out the table and help with the dishes. On the menu is roast chicken with homemade stuffing and gravy, roasted potatoes, green bean casserole, red cabbage (a tradition from my family), local fresh-picked peas and carrots, and raspberry pie with whipped cream for dessert. The pie is in honour of the Thanksgiving when Mr. V’s very dignified father accidentally sprayed whipped cream all over himself and the surrounding area. It’s now a tradition to tell the story and have a few laughs over dessert. Of course, we have to use the whipped cream that comes in a can.

I try to take the time on Thanksgiving to think about all my blessings and not just those of any particular day. It’s a long, full list, and today the exercise has left me feeling a bit nostalgic and overwhelmingly grateful to be such a lucky voyager. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Jack’s Walk

©voyager, all rights reserved

The weather’s been so pleasant this week that Jack and I have met a lot of our neighbours out doing yardwork as we walk by. With some of our neighbours, I’d be happy with just a quick wave and a shout of hello, but Jack says this is rude. He thinks we should speak to everyone, even gossipy Ruth, who talks too fast and forgetful Mr. P., who asks at least six times in a 5-minute conversation how old Jack is. Eleven. Eleven. Eleven. He’ll be 12 in February. Eleven, I think.

Jack doles out kisses and cuddles and basks in the glow of adoration and I nod my head and utter pleasantries. What can I do but smile? That’s just how life is when you have a friendly, social Jack. Soon enough, it’ll be winter and we’ll go days without seeing anyone outside. Bubba hates that, and even though it makes our walks shorter, so do I.

Jack’s Walk

©voyager, all rights reserved

A Calendar of Sonnets: October

The month of carnival of all the year,
When Nature lets the wild earth go its way,
And spend whole seasons on a single day.
The spring-time holds her white and purple dear;
October, lavish, flaunts them far and near;
The summer charily her reds doth lay
Like jewels on her costliest array;
October, scornful, burns them on a bier.
The winter hoards his pearls of frost in sign
Of kingdom: whiter pearls than winter knew,
Oar empress wore, in Egypt’s ancient line,
October, feasting ‘neath her dome of blue,
Drinks at a single draught, slow filtered through
Sunshiny air, as in a tingling wine!
Helen Hunt Jackson

Jack’s Walk

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The people who live in this house decorate their porch differently for each season and they always make it a splendid arrangement. It’s one of my favourite homes in the neighbourhood and it gives me a smile every time we walk past it. Their current display is quintessentially autumn in Ontario with brightly coloured, coordinating pots of mums, dried stalks of corn and pumpkins galore, big and small, in varying shades of orange. Soon the tree out front will add its yellows and golds, reds and rusts, tangerines and salmons to the show until there’s a riot of colour about the place. It’s one of a thousand things I love about the fall.

Holidays: Sagrada Familia 5

Or “being too smart for your own good”. Many photographers have nice expensive gear and then set everything on “automatic” and wonder why their pics are not that nice. Well, I’d never do that but do most of my adjustments by hand so I can get the best results. Except for when I forget about something. So here’s the question for the fellow camera addicts: Why do Giliell’s pics have this annoying blueish tint?

©Giliell, all rights reserved

©Giliell, all rights reserved

Here you can see the different style of later architects who worked at the cathedral after Gaudi’s death: sharper lines, more influenced by cubism than modernisme.

©Giliell, all rights reserved

©Giliell, all rights reserved

 

Write your guesses in the comments and I’ll tell you if you’re right tomorrow.

Jack’s Walk

©voyager, all rights reserved

Yesterday I mentioned that Jack has difficulty seeing in the dark. I forgot to mention that Jack also has trouble being seen in the dark. His coat is such a deep chocolate brown that when he steps out of the puddles of streetlight, he all but vanishes. That’s a worry because Jack has a nasty habit of eating things he happens upon, things that are probably not good for him to eat like garbage, poop and the occasional small dead creature. Last night he managed to swallow something before I could stop him. I have no idea what it was as there were no bits of it left to identify, but I’m sure it wasn’t a healthy snack. I jammed my hand into his mouth, hoping to fish it out, but I was too late. Jack smiled, licked my fingers and walked on, leaving me standing there dripping drool and hoping for the best. So far, so good.