Old Friends

Number ONE Son sent me a box of (my) old westerns with the girls, which I was some glad to see. Most of the authors I read by people like MacDonald or Macmillan, Beevor or Tuchman, Gilbert or Massie, Diamond or Dyer, Blum or Chomsky are fairly heavy stuff.  Even the hard cover fiction I read, LeCarre or Mitchener, are not exactly relaxing.

For that I have always turned to western novels, of which I once had over 100.  They kept disappearing to turn up at either May-B's or #1 Son's.  Book thieves!!  Didn't break me as most were bought second hand for half the marked price.

My favourite western authors are Ernest Haycox, Louis L'Amour, Will Henry (though his books are pretty intense as well) and Dorothy Johnson's two books of short stories.  I've read many different authors and Haycox is by far and away the best.  He wrote wonderful short stories and his novels well researched and well written.

You can see from the picture below, these books are old and well worn, the pages yellow and brittle.  I've read most of them a dozen times or more.  The three Dells were 35 and 45 cents new.  Most of the others about $1.50.  There are a few recent ones in the $4 range.

Old friends.

Chopping down the cherry tree

Apparently Moscow had a terrible wind storm yesterday which knocked over some 2000 trees.  We had a bad windstorm the other day and today Tanya got worried about the big cherry tree in our front yard.  It is over 20 years old and about 4 meters taller than the power lines passing in front of our place.  The problem with the tree is how it grew.  It is like three huge trees in one, coming together in an upside down tripod about 1 meter from the ground.  That is the weak spot. 

A very strong wind could rip one or more of the three "branches" off, splitting the trunk where they come together.  It could damage our house and the power lines. The electric company had been by earlier this spring and told us to trim the tree away from the power line. So Tanya called our neighbour Valeria and he came over this afternoon to knock the top off the tree.

I never before saw anyone climb a tree wearing cheap slip-on rubber sandals but up to the top he went with a pruning saw and proceeded to dismember the tree limb by limb.  Of course, Tanya hollered every time one dropped on her flower beds but she was worried about Valerie up so high and limbing the tree so close to the power lines.  I told him I didn't want to have to find Natasha a new husband.

Once he got most of the high limbs off and away from the power line, he called it quits.  We'll take the rest of the tree down in the winter.  when Tanya's flowers are safe.

More wood to dry for shashlik.  And in another 20 years we can cut down the weeping birch Tanya planted beside it this spring.

Cold Comfort

My sister scanned a bunch of old pictures from the farm and sent them on a DVD with the girls when they came over.  The temperature was 40C again today and we hung out in my office which is air conditioned.  I got looking at the pictures Ev sent. 

These two caught my eye as I remember that spring of 1966 very well.  They were taken on May 22 along our road.  The snow banks were still there.  This was in the days when we thought there was another ice age coming, of course.

 

I was home from 1st year University.  Dad had bought a 14' Morris Rod Weeder at a farm auction about 5 miles from home  and sent me with the tractor to bring it home.  This was the end of April but looked more like mid February.  There was snow banked everywhere.  The banks on each side of lane into the farm site were about 8 feet high in the caragana trees.  I dutifully hooked onto the rod weeder and started down the lane.

Now a 14" rod weeder is about 22' wide with the drive shafts sticking out, as you can see from the picture of this very old one.  As I started down the lane, it narrowed and the ends caught in the snow banks.  I couldn't back up and had to keep going, bending the shafts.  Dad laughed and took the unit into town to get repaired.  Our local blacksmith started the story that I had been working summerfallow and had got between two snowbanks and bent it all up.  That spring it could have been almost true

Like Kipling? Don't know. Never Kipled.

Now on Rob-Bear's Blog, you will find links to Rachel's Blog, "The Waxing Moon".  She recently ran a poetry contest for the best Haiku about bears, which Rob-Bear won.  He even got a prize.  He had some good competition too.  There was one dissenting poet in the group who did an excellent imitation of Robert Service, which was much more to my liking.  And it gave me another idea for a contest.  Sorry, no prizes, other than the satisfaction of winning.

Here are the rules.  Pick a poet, any poet but a real one i.e. one who writes with rhyme and meter and such stuff, none of this cheap free verse that any idiot can write.  Pick a very identifiable poem from said poet and write your own version.  As per the example below.

The tumult and the shouting dies—

  The Captain and Tennille depart—

The weather’s hot; the water’s bad,

  And I am too afraid to fart.

Remind me the dogs need walking yet,

Lest I forget, lest I forget!

Pupdate

Last night when we started on our dog walk, Lucia's old dog and the young dog, now named Ronald, came running to their gate to greet us.  It is obvious that the old dog loves the pup and they get along famously.  Dogs are gregarious critters and need company - so long as they can figure out who is top dog and in this case yet, there is no problem.

Lucia says the pup follows her everywhere.  Tonight he came over to see Masha so I grabbed my camera.  You can see how tall he is getting; all legs.  Like Masha.

The cucs are done and tomatoes coming on fast, large and small varieties.  Tonight for supper we had a real corn feed; the good kind, with butter dripping off chins and elbows and salt enough to put blood pressure over the moon.  Monday the corn starts coming off for the freezer. 

 

The hollyhocks are done.  Another new lily bloomed yesterday and Tanya's "100" gladiolas are beginning to bloom.

Living Dangerously

Uninspired

The three people (I'm an optimist) who faithfully follow my blog will note I have been uninspired the last few days.  It has been too hot - mid-thirties - and there has not been much activity of interest to anyone.  I can't even work up a good rant or a bad joke.

Walked the hounds three night is a row, once the temp drops to about 30.  Maxim helped me one night, Masha one night and tonight it was just me so I walked along the marsh, which I haven't done all year and never before with the dogs on leash.  They disappeared into the tall grass and reeds and I didn't see them again until we hit the clearing at the other end.  I just hung on and waded through.

Masha is spending a lot more time here this summer.  Nights too.  She sleeps with Babushka.  I sleep with the Air Conditioner.  I offer to trade but Masha would likely catch pneumonia so the A/C is out.  We bought a large pool, about 6' wide by 10' long and 3' deep which holds 1000 litres of water at 60%  full (I can mix my measurement systems with the best of them).  Masha and Maxim spent the better part of the afternoon in it.  Even Babushka has been seen to slide in for a quick cool off.