Writerly Stuff (#226)

I've been a note-jotter most of my life. Partly because I've always been what my teachers kindly called, "scattered." Partly because that's what writers do. They get ideas, usually in a non-writing venue like a crowded bus or at the ball game. So, they grab a pen and paper and jot down a note, fully intending at some future time to expound upon it in a writerly and entertaining fashion.

Naturally, this rarely happens. Especially if one is a writer of the scattered variety. We usually either forget the note entirely, or lose the paper it was written on. Often both. Which, if you're not only scattered but also kind of lazy, is a pretty good deal. Those lost bits of paper saved me from writing quite a few words over the years.

Anyway, in this newfangled day and age they have virtual sticky notes that you keep on your computer. I was pretty excited when I found out about them. Imagine - a sticky note that doesn't ever peel off the thing you stick it on! Why, a scattered person of the writerly persuasion could write all sorts of notes and never lose them! (As long as his computer doesn't fritz out, of course.)

So, for the last several months I've been jotting down ideas, figuring to turn them into columns/posts somewhere down the road. But darned if I'm not having a busy summer, with hardly two consecutive days spent at home. I haven't had time to expound, entertainingly or not.

What to do? Then, as if having accumulated five or six ideas already this summer wasn't enough, I was gifted with one more: Just do a blog/column about the bare-boned ideas! That way, the ideas themselves would be saved for posterity on the Interweb and I could expound upon them later.

Or not. We'll see.

Here are the ideas:

1- The best test of character is adversity.
2- Facebook memorials: virtual bouquets and teddy bears.
3- "Trying is the first step towards failure." - Homer Simpson
4- The path taken doesn't matter, if you arrive at the truth.
5- "Just be yourself - in a whole new way!" - Marge Simpson
6- Celery: God's revenge.

With a WHAT On His Horse? (#225)

No doubt most of you sharp-eyed folks have noticed a couple of minor additions to my blog. Up there near the top is a favourite quote from noted philosopher, Yogi Berra. Even if (according to the great man himself) he never said most of the things he said, what he DID say offered plenty of grist for the meditative mill. Godbless him. And to boot, he was a damn fine baseball player -- one of the best of his era.

The second addition is another quote, this time below the header. I titled it Wish I'd Said It. As a writer, I appreciate a well-turned phrase. I like to think that over the decades, I've turned two or three myself. By accident, sure. But they all count.

The quote, for those of you who didn't notice and abhor scrolling up, is: "'Cause beauty's religion and it's christened me with wonder" from a song called And If Venice Is Sinking by a terrrific Canadian band called Spirit of the West. The lyrics were written by John Mann and the song is about his honeymoon in Venice. It's a difficult song to categorize musically but the melody is darn catchy and the lyrics...those lyrics....Did he really say "...Marini's little man, with an erection on a horse?"

Yes, yes he did.

Every once in a while, I'll probably change the quote to something else I wish I'd said. But I'll leave this one here for a while.

Here's the original video of the early 90s song.



For those of you who have hung in to the bitter end, here's a bonus track from the same band. It's a rollicking drinking tune that shows pub crawlers in Newfoundland, Dublin, Glasgow and points in-between that a group from western Canada can kick major Celtic butt.

Here's Home For A Rest.



Hope you enjoyed. (I'm off to the cottage now for a few days. Will reply to your spiffy comments when I return. Thanks for visiting.)

Hithering & Yonning (#224)

Yep. That's what I've been doing. Hithering here and yonning thither. Coming home in time to find a computer that's nearly completely fritzed and has to be reformatted. Now, I'm hieing myself back to the cottage in the morning.

I haven't had time to write anything so I'm going to upload a few more pics for (I hope) your viewing pleasure. (Remember, you may click each photo if you wish to see a larger version.)

Ben's presence gives you some idea of the size of these fungi. Ben is 4 feet long and weighs 137 pounds.
(The previous sentence bears no resemblance to the truth.)

Even dead trees contribute much to the environment. This one, near Hilary's place, is a favourite of mine. Despite its gnarled and broken limbs, it emanates a sense of pride, echoes of previous grandeur.

You're going to have to take my word for this next one, folks. There is a bunny in the photo. Really. You can't see him because he's invisible. Every bunny worth its salt knows that if it remains stock still, it cannot be seen. The only reason I can assure you there is indeed a rabbit in the picture is because Nature has gifted me with Heightened Awareness. It comes naturally to fishermen who have spent several decades staring at sun-splashed water. (All the details are in my book that I never mention anymore which is still in print and called What Fish Don't Want You to Know.) 

Anyway, trust me, there's a bunny in the picture below.

This mud flat along the creek is a popular spot for small birds and mammals to bathe and drink.

I like this night shot taken at the park near Hilary's. The light appears to swoop towards (away from?) the light standard, giving an appearance of ghostly, golden motion.

The jumbled pile of roots, trunks and limbs found near a bend in the creek is always photo fodder for me. From any angle, the textures and shapes are interesting studies.

For the most part, overcast, grey days provide a flat light that doesn't do much to "prettify" a scene. But I like the soft, muted, near black and white shot of a wee chickadee on a log. I watched it enter and leave the knot hole just to its left in the photo. I can only presume it was assessing it for nest-worthiness. Apparently it was found wanting because I returned several times and didn't see the bird again.

Lastly, here's photo of a small brook trout. Five seconds after I snapped the shutter, the colourful little guy was swimming away. If we hook up again in a couple of years, he may not be so lucky.

Before you go, I crave a boon. I'd like those of you who aren't regular visitors to Hilary's blog to please do so in order to read about a young woman named Mandi. Mandi is betrothed to the grandson of a friend of mine (and talented artist) Elaine Sell Prefontaine. Hilary did a great job spotlighting the tale and I'm going to piggyback on her work. Please take a few minutes and read the entry here.

Thanks, all.