Jack’s Walk

A dusting of snow that didn’t survive the above zero temps of the day. ©voyager, all rights reserved

Jack is not happy today. Not happy at all. We put a new shelf in my closet this afternoon, and poor Bubba was greatly inconvenienced by the whole affair. It started out badly when I emptied the closet onto my bed, which happens to be Jack’s favourite place to rest in the afternoon. He paced up and down the side of the bed, looking up at the heap and making little crying noises, asking for help. So I cleared an area and gave him a boost because he’s old and I’m soft. Jack finally settled with his head on my pillow while we got down to measuring and marking. That’s when things went south again, for Jack, because next came the whine of the electric drill. It woke him with a start and then it droned on and off unpredictably. Jack isn’t one to complain, but I could see by the set of his ears that he was annoyed. His eyes were grimly shut, and they flinched at the inner canthus with each kick of the drill. Then peace for a few minutes, and I could see Jack’s features soften until the heavy, dull thud, thud, thud of the hammer and finally a bit of swearing when the humans among us concluded that the custom cut coated metal shelf was a smidge too long. Just a smidge, but too long is too long. So then the party took a break while more tools were gathered and more swearing was said, and then the humans moved into the kitchen to use the angle grinder (FUN!) That was a new noise to Jack, and his curiosity got the best of him, and he meandered down the hallway to see what we were up to. Well, his eyes got wide at the sight of sparks flying all around us, but he didn’t utter a sound as he calmly turned right and walked into the living room. Whatever we were up to, Jack wanted no more part of it, and he flicked his tail at us as he ambled out of sight. He spent the rest of the afternoon on the carpet in front of the fire as we wrestled the shelf into place, and it must have been a real hardship for him because this evening, he is still out of sorts. Sheesh, Bubba. You didn’t even do any work.

Bermuda-buttercups

Bright yellow flowers from Nightjar.

This week I bring you another flower that is all over the place this time of the year. Except this time it shouldn’t be. Oxalis pes-caprae, also known as sourgrass or Bermuda-buttercup, is indigenous to South Africa and an invasive species in many parts of the world. It’s beautiful nonetheless, it covers the fields in yellow and bugs seem to like it.

©Nightjar, all rights reserved

Monday Mercurial: Erxcuse me, I’m an Ermine

On our Saturday walk I saw an ermine, which was a first for me.

Yeeeees, I know the quality sucks. I only had my mobile and the camera is rubbish. I’m getting a new one (because the screen is broken beyond reasonable. I’m also getting some heavy duty cover) and this time the camera was a criterion, so hopefully the next time I stumble across interesting wildlife it will be a better quality.

The meadow is part of the cemetery. I guess that’s the part where the anonymous graves are, in that case wave hello to my grandparents. If a small animal burrowing among his ashes cannot raise grandpa from the dead then Jesus stands no chance whatsoever.

Jack’s Walk

Shovel Face ©voyager, all rights reserved

It’s melting! Rapidly melting! It’s +6°c today (-6°c yesterday), and we’re saying bye, bye to all the snow again. That would be the snow that I’ve shovelled twice and will no doubt shovel a third time because it’s going to be warm and rainy for a couple of days with snow expected again by Sunday night and then more melting next week. Sheesh! Snow… Shovel… Melt… Mud. Snow, shovel, melt, mud. I’m trapped in the back aching, snow moving, muddy, messy, messed-up Canadian version of the Groundhog Day of Climate Change. Since it’s still January, it will, of course, get cold again after that and I can only hope it will stay that way.

There. I’ve said it. I want January to be cold. It’s supposed to be cold. The lakes should be covered in ice, the ground should be frozen solid, Jack should have more hair than this and I should be bitching about how fucking cold it is, not about this crap.*

 

*Sorry, Australia. I know this crap is so much better than what you’re dealing with, but Father Weather won’t let me share. Be safe.

 

A Near Lethal Dose of Cute

Nightjar has sent us photos of her Guinea Pigs and they are totally adorable.

I’ve had these three guinea pigs for three years now and I’m not sure why I never thought of sharing them before. They are three females, Grace is the mom and shortly after Isis and Luna were born I decided to give away their dad to a friend/neighbour for, uh, reasons that I don’t think I have to explain. Oh, did I say “shortly after”? It was enough for Luna to get pregnant, and then I had to find a home for her babies too. They are adorable, but it’s the kind of adorable that multiplies exponentially. (Bonus points to whoever can guess where their names come from – they are thematically related, but I admit the references are probably a bit too obscure.)

Grace, Luna and Isis, ©Nightjar, all rights reserved

Grace, ©Nightjar, all rights reserved

Isis, ©Nightjar, all rights reserved

Luna, ©Nightjar, all rights reserved

Jack’s Walk

©voyager, all rights reserved

It sifts from Leaden Sieves – (291)

 

It sifts from Leaden Sieves –
It powders all the Wood.
It fills with Alabaster Wool
The Wrinkles of the Road –

It makes an even Face
Of Mountain, and of Plain –
Unbroken Forehead from the East
Unto the East again –

It reaches to the Fence –
It wraps it Rail by Rail
Till it is lost in Fleeces –
It deals Celestial Vail

To Stump, and Stack – and Stem –
A Summer’s empty Room –
Acres of Joints, where Harvests were,
Recordless, but for them –

It Ruffles Wrists of Posts
As Ankles of a Queen –
Then stills it’s Artisans – like Ghosts –
Denying they have been –

      by Emily Dickinson

 

Jack’s Walk

More freshly fallen snow today. ©voyager, all rights reserved

Considering the climate crises in other parts of the world, I have nothing to complain about, but I’m going to anyway. Things just aren’t normal around here. Seriously, enough with the ping-pong weather already. On Friday, we arrived home from Montreal to 4°c weather and mostly bare lawns. I was feeling a bit smug after all the snow I shovelled while we were in Montreal, but then, on Saturday and Sunday, it snowed here, about 15 cm worth, and I remembered that this is Canada in January and snow is normal, so I just got on with it and shovelled. I figured that the previous few above zero days here in Ontario was only part of a regular January melt. Then on Monday and Tuesday, the temp was up to 3 or 4 degrees again, and a lot of the new snow melted. This morning, though, the temp plummeted to -6°, and it snowed, about 12 cm worth this time,  so I shovelled again – a bit less enthusiastically this time, though, because it felt like I was shovelling the same snow twice. Now, I see that the forecast is calling for another melt starting Friday with the temperature due to get all the way up to +11°c over the weekend. The temp will drop below that next week but is still set to stay above zero by 3 or 4 degrees. This is not an ordinary January melt.

I remember January melts from when I was a kid in the ’60s. They were a few days of slightly above-freezing temps when the snow melted a bit, making it heavy and ideal for forts and snowballs. Our winter cranky moms kicked us outside, and we’d congregate to play, all of us energized silly by the warmer air. Then it would get cold again and stay that way for 3 more months and often longer. There was none of this up and down cold or fully bare lawns in January. It was still winter. In Canada. And it was snowy, long and bloody cold.

This unpredictably warmer weather has implications for Jack, too. Possibly serious ones. Jack and I like to walk in the woods and in wildish areas, so tick prevention is a must. We’ve always used it on the advice of our vet from the first of June to the first of November. About 2 years ago, our vet added a second tic preventative that Jack takes from the first of March to the first of November. Apparently, ticks are active at temps just slightly above zero, and we have enough of those degree days now in early spring that ticks have become a concern. How much longer before ticks are a concern all year round and then what? Mosquitos in March?

Jack’s Walk

©voyager, all rights reserved

Jack has had a very lazy day today. He usually gets up with me in the morning around 8 or 8:30 and has his breakfast while I make coffee. This morning, Jack didn’t get out of bed until 11:30. I awoke with him asleep and snoring under the blankets and curled into my knees. I tried to wake him up, but he wasn’t having any of it. Poke, poke, poke…” Jack, it’s time to get up… Jack,… Bubba.” Nope, that didn’t work. So I upped the ante a bit. “Jack, it’s time for breakfast.” Poke, poke, poke.

“Is Jack a hungry boy?” Still nothing! So now I’m trapped, and I’ve realized that I need to pee, so I straighten my legs and push. Jack didn’t like that at all and he pushed back, digging in his hind feet and arching his back. Did I ever mention that one of Jack’s nicknames is Mr. Heavy Bum? Well, this morning, he used all of that bum against me, and he actually gained ground! Now I’m annoyed and I really, really have to pee, so I scootch up and around him which isn’t an easy thing to do first thing in the morning, but I make it out and to the bathroom on time (yeah!)  On my way to the kitchen, I look back to see Jack stretched out to the size of a Great Dane and snoring again, which makes me feel tender, so I pull the blankets up around him, and go make the coffee, expecting the boy to wander into the kitchen in a few minutes. Nope, it got to be 9 o’clock, then 10 o’clock and finally at 11, I scooped out his kibble and called his name. Still, no Bubba, who I might add, has not peed since 10 last night. That’s 13 hours without a pee. He’s obviously got a better bladder than I do. So I went to rouse him again and this time he sluggishly stretched and oozed off the bed. When his wobbly legs hit the floor, he trod to his food bowl and sleepily bowed his head and inhaled his breakfast. Then he lay down beside his station and his head hit the floor with a bit of a thunk. Sheesh, Bubba, were you out partying while I was asleep? I hitched him up and took him out, figuring he must have to pee by now and he did – right away. On my rose bush. Well, Damn. Anyway, It was a beautiful day outside, and Jack soon picked up and asked to go for a real walk, which we did in the sunshine, under the blue sky, while the snow melted around us. After a few minutes, I commented on Jack’s lazy morning, and he told me that he couldn’t sleep well around Angus and that he’s been extra tired since he got home. I feel the same way, Bubba. I feel the same way.

Jack’s Walk

 

©voyager, all rights reserved

There really is no place like home. It’s familiar and comfortable and a place where you can relax. It’s the place where you can take off your bra, put on your pink bunny pyjamas and lie in bed all day eating ice cream and watching movies with the sound off and the closed captioning on. Which is precisely what I did on Saturday.

I was totally exhausted from the 2 weeks of constant conversation and also a tiny bit battered. I took a hard fall in Montreal while loading the car, and my left hip took the worst of it. 7 car hours later, the whole left side of my ass was throbbing and magnificently bruised, but I was home. (Thanks for another good drive Mr. Groovy) That was Friday and Saturday morning I awoke to triple gravity, lots of aching, a bit of throbbing and a burning desire for cherry ice cream. So once I managed to get out of bed and get in motion, Jack and I slowly took our morning perambulation around the block, and while I was in gear, I went to get a few necessities. You know, milk, juice, bread, eggs and Chapman’s Deluxe Black Cherry Ice Cream. The rest of the day is a bit hazy, but I’m sure there was a bit of feeling sorry for myself. Sunday morning was much the same, but I did manage to get a few chores done, and today the extra gravity is letting up, and there’s only a teacup’s worth of aching. So, to celebrate, I took Jack out to our wee forest for a walk in the freshly fallen snow. It was a beautiful day with a touch of blue in the sky, and the woods were quiet and tranquil, without a trace of wind to disturb the blanketed snow. Jack and I took our time, but we made it all the way around, and by the time we got back to the car, both of us were feeling closer to normal. These woods are home for us, too, and just like Dorothy said, “There’s no place like home.”

Fabulous Fumaria Flowers

Thanks to Nightjar and her magic with a camera we have beautiful flowers to start the week.

I wanted to share these photos I took on my first walk of 2020. This is Fumaria officinalis, known as common fumitory or earth smoke, and one of the first winter wildflowers to bloom here in Portugal and give the fields some colour. They look even prettier covered in morning dew.

©Nightjar, all rights reserved

©Nightjar, all rights reserved

©Nightjar, all rights reserved

Jack’s Walk

Bye, Bye, Angus. ©voyager, all rights reserved

Just a short post today because Jack and I are heading home, that wonderful place where we keep all our junk and where life is a bit more predictable. I know Jack is growing weary of Angus’ hyper-vigilance and herding and, to be honest, so am I. Angus is a bullheaded, tripping hazard, and he’s noisy. He’s exhausting to be around, and two weeks in close quarters is enough. Jack and I will both be happy to return to our quiet little corner of the world. It’s a long drive, but Jack is a seasoned traveller. He took his first trip to the east coast when he was six months old, and that’s a gruelling 22-hour drive over two days. Seven hours to home is a breeze by comparison.

Mostly, though, I’m looking forward to not having to talk to people all day. I’m an introvert by nature, and two weeks of constant chatter has left me drained and exhausted. I can’t wait to get home and put my phone on mute and just read without interruption. Oh yes, and to have a nice quiet coffee in the morning before I have to engage in ‘happy talk.’ If I wasn’t so damned exhausted I might even jump up and down for joy at just the thought of being alone for a while. I’ve told my friends that it will be a few days before I talk to them and I know they understand. I’m goin’ home, and I’m gonna have me a good, long dose of quiet contemplation to recharge. See you on Monday.

 

 

 

Jack’s Walk

Please, may I have a bite? ©voyager, all rights reserved

We had guests for dinner last night, and we served a roast chicken with homemade stuffing. It was delicious, and everyone enjoyed the meal, including Jack and Angus, who had a few tasty tidbits on their kibble. Did it satisfy them? Well, yes and no. They ate with great gusto, but both dogs wanted a bit more. Angus barks when he begs, which is annoying and not effective at all, but Jack has begging down to a fine art. He simply turns up his charm to maximum volume and sits quietly beside someone until they notice him with his goofy smile and big eyes that say, “Please, may I have a bite? I am a poor, hungry dog, and I will be eternally grateful.” It’s a very effective strategy, and it doesn’t seem to matter that I tell people not to feed him at the table. People are helpless to resist, and even I give in once and while. Poor Angus doesn’t seem to learn from Jack, he just barks more loudly and seems confused that no-one offers him anything. Twice I forced Angus to hush for a bit and rewarded him with a bite, but the lesson didn’t stick. He’s a guard dog by nature and barking is his go-to mode. Jack, on the other hand, is a lover by nature and guarding isn’t on his resume. I don’t mind. All that chocolate brown love makes me happy and brightens my days. It might even help me to be a better person, and who could ask for more than that?