WHAT'S A BEAR TO DO? (3)

Subtitle: "In which Bear and J work several hours in the garden, and accomplish some improvements."

Ah, yes; this IS starting to look better.

WHAT'S A BEAR TO DO? (2)

OK, let's review.

The garden was a mess!

So Bear "took the bull by the tail" and got working on it. 

Soon, it wasn't looking too bad.

But there's something here that' not quite right. There's a certain «je ne sais quoi» feeling about it. I seems somehow incomplete. 

Think. Think. Think. (Think like a puzzled Winnie the Pooh.)

Think. Think. Think.

Well, if it were a picture, I could show it off a bit better by putting it in a nice frame.

Wait — that's it. Put something around it. Like, . . . like, . . . like — a border. Yes! That's it. A border!

Say, this is looking better.

And we're done! 

Her Ladyship, Miss Sadie has been supervising this all the way along. 

Now, she's allowing her picture to be taken alongside the completed project.

Allowing her picture to be taken in this manner is Her Ladyship's supervisory "seal of approval" that the work has been "completed to the highest standards." 

(When her Ladyship isn't looking, Bear rolls his eyes.)

So, the task is complete!

Now, all that's left is

the

back

 yard.

Oh, my!  

HELP!!!!!!!!!

WHAT'S A BEAR TO DO?

Disaster has struck at the home of the Bears.

While were away for a few days, our garden was overtaken by weeds!

 A closer investigation reveals the true nature of the difficulties.

How do we deal with this disaster? Bear put on his Tilley hat and considered the options.

(I know that your allotments look allot better than this.)

Let's face it; Bears are better at raiding gardens than growing gardens.

I guess we follow the old W. C. Fields plan: Take the bull by the tail and face the situation squarely.

Meaning, get on with the weeding.
 

This isn't coming along too badly.

There's light at the end of the tunnel!

To be continued > > >

PECULIAR HAPPENINGS

Subtitle: “In which Bear Survives a Storm, Celebrates Canada Day, and Does Well in a Poetry Contest.”  

As famed Canadian poet Robert Service put it, "There are strange things done in the midnight sun." (That's the opening line from "The Cremation of Sam McGee.") 

There are, of course, strange things done at other times, too.

1. As many of you have already noted, there is a lot of "peculiar" weather this year. Normal patters appear to be skewed, for some reason. Global warming; a disruption in the "collective unconscious" —  who knows. 

We had a fairly brutal storm a couple of nights ago. We received about four inches of rain over three hours in our city. The hail at the Bears' house ranged in size between marbles and golf balls. Residents' basements, whole neighbourhoods, and even civic buildings, were flooded — and not just in our community. 

At one point, a few blocks from our home, the water flow and pressure in the storm sewer was so strong, the water blew the man hole cover off the service access. That sent water charging into the street, and cascading though a park directly to our river. The result was a huge washout, as you can see, on the path beside the roadway.

That cut is about 30 feet wide, and about 20 feet deep,

and runs all the way down the hill, through the park, to the river, which you can see in the distance.

We had another storm tonight, but it wasn't nearly as bad.

The washout, btw, is about two blocks from our son's house. He and his family were fine, as were we, and our daughter (who lives a bit further away, and on higher ground).


2. Canada Day is our national holiday. On July 1, 1867, the British North America Act came into force, and Canada became a Dominion within the British Empire (on which the sun never sets, I'm told). 

Yesterday, all kinds of things happening around us, from pancake breakfast first think in the morning, to fireworks at night. Our grandchildren came for a sleepover, and stayed up until the fireworks started (which we didn't think they would). But after a few, they had seen enough, so off to bed and sleep. 

In the process, they cut a few Canadian flags out of papers, and put them on a door and a windows. My flag continues to fly atop my flagpole; I think I'm the only one around here who actually flies a flag. (The bad news is that my flag is getting a bit tatty, and needs to be repaired or replaced.)


3. As at least some of you know, Bear has been a writer and broadcaster for quite a few years. And Bear loves telling stories. 

But Bear is NOT a poet. I thoroughly enjoy poetry, but I'm not a poetic writer.

Well, at least not until now.

Rachel Westfall, a good poet, writes poetry on her blog. To encourage others to write or try poetry, she decided to hold a competition on her blog. 

But not just ordinary poetry. It had to be about Bears, and it had to be Haiku (that particular form of Japanese poetry, consisting of 17 moras, in three phrases of 5, 7, and 5 moras respectively). 

Since it was about Bears, this Bear thought, "Oh well, I'll give it a try,  just for fun, and see what happens."

So what happened? Rachel explained it this way:

"When I read the poems over and over, one author moved me in the way of the bear-spirit more than any other: Rob-Bear! Congratulations, dear Rob-Bear! Your bear in shining fur poem truly gave me goose-bumps (bear-bumps)?"

This is a bit strange, because I thought there were much better contributions than mine. But, hey; it's her blog, so we'll abide by her decision.

What did I write?

Bear in shining fur,
glowing with bright moonlight,
sniffs distant food, wonders.

I'm to get a prize, and it will be a Bear sort of thing, which I'll add to my collection of Bears. Quite Bearable, all in all. Thank you, Rachel!

But Bear still sits and shakes his head. Me? A poet? 

"And that," said Bear, "is that."

§   §   §

One other matter. This is my 200th post since I started blogging (in 2006). Bear figures if he works at it long enough, he may actually catch on to what blogging is. (There are so many really talented bloggers out there; some are included in my sidebar! And, yes;  there's one very prosaic, pedestrian Bear.)

LAMENT FOR MONDAY, JUNE 28, 2010

The G20 summit meeting wrapped up yesterday in Bear's home town, Toronto, Canada.  This was the gathering of the leaders of the 20 economically-strongest countries in the world, which account for about 85 per cent of global trade. (I could watch the action, and still, after all the years of being away, figure out roughly where the people were.)

Three images stood out for me.

1. The Presidents and Prime Ministers — heads of the G20 nations — smiling, and waving, and chatting. Looking like they had been on a holiday! Political showmanship at its best. 

They had been arguing among themselves about how to keep the world's economy on a level keel, and apparently reached some significant plans.

2. Vandals, calling themselves anarchists, destroying property. Our Prime Minister, Stephen Harper, condemned their action, saying it was "not the Canadian way." And he was right.

3. Probably the strongest image for me was also picked up by veteran CBC journalist Susan Ormiston. She was reporting from "street-level" about protests, violent and peaceful. The image she was left with was one of seeing, wherever she turned, rows of "battle-ready" police — heavy gear, shields, clubs — three deep, waiting. Then often charging, and beating and grabbing people, often indiscriminately. At last count, over 600 people were arrested. It's turning out that many were simply on the streets of their community, the community where they lived, minding their own business, or watching, in wonder and amazement, as things unfolded. The innocent were simply scooped up with the supposedly "guilty." This was because of sweeping new powers quietly granted to police, by the Federal Cabinet, but never made public. (So much for transparency and accountability in government.) I could say to the Prime Minister, "that is not the Canadian way," either. 

Except it is.  I don't like this new "Canadian way" that Stephen Harper is bringing us. It feels too much like a "police state," perhaps a new blossoming of fascism.

Lord, hear our prayer,
and let our cry come unto thee.

LAMENT FOR SUNDAY, JUNE 27, 2010

Two very different events, contests of a sort, are making news today.

On one hand, the FIFA World Cup of Football (or Soccer) continues in South Africa. The defending champions, Italy, and the highly favoured French, have been knocked out of contention, along with the United States. One of today's key matches pits England against Germany. The quote that hangs in the air comes from Bill Shankley, a former Liverpool manager. "Some people think football is a matter of life and death. I can assure them it's much more serious than that."

On the North American continent, leaders of the 20 major industrial countries, the so-called G20, are meeting in Toronto, Canada. Their presence has be marked by large, peaceful protests, but also violent and destructive action by anarchists. In the midst of talk about global banking and economic reform, and the possibility of a second recession, ordinary people on the street are asking, "What about us, and those even less fortunate? What about safe food, clean water, pure air, effective health care — especially for women and children?" Real matters of life and death, or things perhaps "much more serious than that."

Holy God,
Holy and mighty,
Holy, immortal one,
Have mercy upon us.

GONE YESTERDAY, HERE TODAY (still a bit Loony).

Well, J and I took of for a few days. Enough of sitting around the house in the rain; at least try a new view. So we did. On Anglin Lake. For those of you not familiar with the geography of Saskatchewan, Canada, the lake is on the border between the southern and northern halves of the province. The north is mostly lakes, rivers, swamps and trees (primarily Trembling Aspen, White Birch, Black Spruce, and White Spruce). Think of it as wall-to-wall trees with a few lakes and clearings (and communities) thrown in for contrast.

We went up to see and hear the Loons. Common Loons. Unfortunately, we didn't get close enough for good pictures. However,  I tried to get a few shots.

The most exciting part was to hear them calling. They have four distinct calls; we actually saw and heard them calling when we were on the water. 

In terms of pictures, the stained glass windows at the "very rustic" place we stayed are much prettier than what I could get in our camera.

And yes, the chicks (babies) do ride on their parents' backs for about the first week of their lives. It is the most vulnerable time for parent and chick alike, because the adult cannot dive to save itself from predators with the chick on its back.


For the record, Her Ladyship, Miss Sadie, did not come with us on our Loon-seeking adventure. She, being a bird-dog, would probably have wanted to jump in the water and play with them. They would not have been amused, especially when one pair had a chick. 


We had a great time (except for our encounters with the mosquitoes).


I'll have more, in due course.