My streams of thought meet here
I often get inspired to write a haiku for the Troutswirl weekly feature, What’s at Hand, but I seldom get my verse ready and sent off by Saturday afternoon. So I’ll just share my ideas here.
beach party over
empty bottles settle
into the sand
beer cans
in the cave – signs of
intelligent life
Don’t you just hate garbage left lying around?
Good morning everyone!
I love the idea of a Monday morning, lots of things to do and a whole week ahead. I always start out with high hopes—and it would be great if I’d have a plan for my week as well. Sadly, time management is a skill I’ve never acquired, but I’ll plod through the week and do my best. I have so many posts I’d like to write and hope to do lots of digging this week as well, both literal and figurative. (Flowerbeds + family tree roots.)
BIRDS
I glance at the calendar and wonder how it can it be that we’re approaching the middle of May already. Looking outside, opening the window, I’m seeing and hearing a lot of different birds in the woods beside us. At noon we saw mourning doves picking their way along under our feeder.
My swallows have come back and are hoping for nests, but those pernicious, malicious English sparrows have claimed at least one of our bird-houses. I sat outside for half an hour this morning where I could watch the goings-on and decide what action to take. I saw the swallows come several time to check out the East-side nest, but the sparrows loitering in the shrubs at the edge of the yard came and drove them away.
Okay for you, guys! I took down the nest and hung it in the shrubs where they hang out. maybe that will keep them occupied and away from the house at least. When the wrens get back, they can fight over it; wrens, for all their midget size, are feisty birds and quite capable of taking over a nest if they want it.
BARGAINS
I stopped in at my daughter’s for a bit Saturday evening and she told me they’d been garage sale-ing. Here in Canada the GARAGE SALE signs start going up soon after our spring birds arrive, and sellers usually pack it in by the end of June. I used to enjoy this sport quite a bit, until my house got too full for any more stuff. But having a garage sale yourself is fun, too.
dear old grandma
clutching a neighbour’s pickle dish
her sale next week
Sometimes you get amazing bargains on something you really need. One day I bought a book for $1 and it helped me so much with a personal problem I was going through. And some folks start special collections from their garage and yard sale finds. I recently visited another blogger via the READER and read an older post she wrote about How A Garage Sale Changed My Life.
Do you plan to do any Garage Sale-ing this spring? Let me know in the comments what your special collections are.
BLOGGING
Speaking of blogs — and blog awards — I see in this morning’s notifications that I’ve been awarded the MYSTERY BLOGGER AWARD by Sue over at Crooked Creek.
According to the creator, Okoto Enigma:
The “Mystery Blogger Award” is an award for amazing bloggers with ingenious posts. Their blog not only captivates; it inspires and motivates. They are one of the best out there, and they deserve every recognition they get. This award is also for bloggers who find fun and inspiration in blogging; and they do it with so much love and passion.
Of course the deal is answer some questions about yourself and then to pass the award — and the questions — on to at least ten other bloggers, as with the old fashioned “chain letters.” (Minus the post card and dire consequences if you fail to comply.)
The problem is often to find ten other bloggers who will accept the award and pass it on. Some like doing blog awards and some can’t be bothered. I think I’ll use my one-thing-at-a time approach to this project. Stay tuned.
And with my current involvement in Family tree research, my cousin Linda has asked if I want to do some posting our our Vance-Turner Connect blog again. We started this in Sept 2013, hoping a few other cousins would have some family stories to share, but the idea didn’t pan out. Still, it’s a good place to record family history. Click here if you’re curious about it.
I hope you all have a great week.
precious white rain
every flake a kiss
a promise
I don’t know if this is a haiku or not, but it’s definitely a celebration. A nice bunch of snow flurries came down yesterday and continued off and on all evening and into the night. The sun is up so they won’t stay long, but they will do a good work in the short time they are here.
I’m also thankful to be alive and well this morning. Yesterday as I tootled along Circle Drive in Saskatoon a semi coming up the ramp from the right skipped the YIELD sign and pulled right into my path. Thankfully the left lane was clear and I could quickly pull over. If there’d been traffic in that lane, and this on the bridge of the #11 Hwy overpass… It only takes two seconds to change your life completely!
“How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth! Isaiah 52:7
Good morning everyone.
In our patch of the province we have a lovely morning with brown lawns crisp and frosted; skies are clear with no sign of the rain/snow we were supposed to get. Rain and/or snow were in the forecast last weekend and clouds have rolled over, but the precipitation fell elsewhere, leaving us dry as dust and still praying. Not quite this bad, though.
This spring reminds me of 1976 when there was no snow all winter; in February the dust was blowing in the streets where we lived. Not a sign of rain until the end of April. Good thing we did have snow this winter and there was some runoff, or the sloughs would be completely dry. Yesterday I saw a really sad sight: two mallards waddling along beside a tiny strip of ditch water — what’s left of the slough that was almost over the road two years ago. Where will they find a place to nest, and swim, and drink?
Enough of weather woes. I’ve said how our children gave us DNA test kits for our birthday and we sent off our samples a few weeks ago. Bob hasn’t got his results yet, but mine are in — and I now have a list of 1000 long-lost cousins who’ve also done the test. I told friends yesterday that I now have a thousand people to ask “How are we related?” 🙂
What came as a real surprise is the 9% Swedish and Norwegian. I had no clue! The other 91% is, quite predictably, British Isles.
Some names I expected:
On Mom’s side I find Harmon, Falconer, Working, and Smith.
On Dad’s side there are a few Vances, Turners, a Smith, an Allen, a Watchorn, an Alexander.
But most of the names I see, I have no clue where they fit.
The first person on the list was my cousin Laurie in Alberta. We match quite well because her grandma married her first cousin, so Laurie has double Turner genes. I also see mom’s first cousin’s daughter and mom’s sister’s grandson.
I also found a Falconer second cousin living in California and contacted her. Hopefully she’s interested in exchanging info. As you can see, my interest in genealogy has been revived. For what it’s worth. Names on a list don’t say much about the people, and you can’t help but wonder about their lives.
drama on the beach
seagulls playing
cops and robbers
As you may have guessed, I was going to post Edna Jacques’ poem about the birds that came to her yard in spring. I decided not to for fear of the Copyright Infringement Police, but I forgot to remove the title. My apologies for the confusion!
However, I’ll give you another poem about little birds. This one by Canadian poet Archibald Lampman is a bit more complex, but just as good, I think.
March
Over the dripping roofs and sunk snow-barrows,
The bells are ringing loud and strangely near,
The shout of children dins upon mine ear
Shrilly, and like a flight of silvery arrows
Showers the sweet gossip of the British sparrows,
Gathered in noisy knots of one or two,
To joke and chatter just as mortals do
Over the days long tale of joys and sorrows;
Talk before bed-time of bold deeds together,
Of thefts and fights, of hard-times and the weather,
Till sleep disarm them, to each little brain
Bringing tucked wings and many a blissful dream,
Visions of wind and sun, of field and stream,
And busy barn-yards with their scattered grain.
By Archibald Lampman
