Red Sky in the Morning...

...sailors take warning.

Sad news this morning to hear the venerable Nova Scotia-built tall ship HMS Bounty (replica, it should go without saying!) sank off the coast of Cape Hatteras during Hurricane Sandy.  Two crew are still reported missing.  One can only hope they had cold-water survival suits on, as was reported, and then pray for the best.

Having grown up on the Saint-Lawrence river, I can recall the times the Bounty came through the shipping channel, and even dropped anchor right in front of my child-hood house once.  Each time it - or any tall ship for that matter - would sail by, we'd grab our binoculars and run to the shore, waving at the crew like we were ship-wreak victims waiting for rescue.  We marveled at her size and her complex rigging.  Our imagination went rampant as we'd imagine climbing aboard. 

Alas, I digress, but the above photo genuinely was our sunrise on the morning of October 29th, the day Sandy will make landfall somewhere on the US east-coast before meeting the cold front sweeping in from the north-west.  Like with any tropical depression, we can expect high winds and rain, but I feel confident that we'll be spared the brunt over the next few days.

All told, we have had the most beautiful October I can ever remember.  Sunny skies, mild temperatures, and only a few glove-worthy mornings sum up the month.

And the colours!  I'm not the only one to remark that this fall has been particularly bright, with reds and yellows and oranges more vibrant than the norm.  Also, the fall colour season seemed to last longer, perhaps because we didn't see any large storms blow through the area - until now!

We'll see what Sandy has in store for us as the hours and days unfold.

In the interim, I leave you with a few parting shots of our local colours:

I love the contrast of the the yellowing ash leaves against the blue pine.

Frost-bitten hostas look just like seaweed, don't they?

Dark skies against drying grass.  The light is particularly beautiful and muted at this time of year.

These wild asters are still showing their colours.  They're pretty much the only thing blooming these days.

The sunlight filtering through red maples can't be captured in a photo.  It's luminous and glorious.

The sunsets this time of year never cease to amaze me.  Warm, humid evenings cast a peach-y glow across the fields.

Inside the house, it brightens the living room.

And inside the barn, shining through the wood below, it lights up the timber-frame.

I find it awesome how the light squeaks though the little cracks above.

There is so much harmony to be found in the landscape.  Only Mother Nature can put yellow and red and green together so perfectly.

These are the trees in the back yard at the office.  We're near an old growth forest on the flank of Rigaud mountain, and the trees there are just awe-inspiring.

We have had beautiful days, and the grass seems greener than ever.

And, last but not least, Capucine says hello.  Cool as a cucumber, this cat watches me mercilessly.  She's plotting something, waiting for me to turn my back as she makes off with yet another ball of yarn.

Renovation Day 1388

Yes, it has been 1388 days since we started the Knotty Pine Purge.  But who's counting?

Today started off auspiciously:

This was our sunrise this morning.  Glorious.  I never, ever tire of our views.

Today Eric installed the new culvert in the drainage ditch that divides our property in two.  With the building of Highway 30 and the drainage work that was done earlier this year, our old culvert was removed last February.  Now that the soy is cut and our field  is accessible again, the new 25 foot-long and 5' diameter pipe could be placed:

Eric still needs to place some rocks around the edges to prevent the clay from washing away, but the biggest part of the job is done.  Our two lots are now accessible again, and heavy tractors can access the back field without having to make a big detour over neighbouring properties.

Here's the back field:

If you "embiggen" the above photo, you can see the two ginormous light standards lit by the setting sun just behind the forest.  Using Google Earth's handy measuring tool, I can tell you they are just shy of one kilometre away from where I'm standing.  This is where the new Highway 30 will pass just before it goes under the Soulanges canal, and then over the mighty Saint-Lawrence linking Cedars with St-Timothée.

Walking back to the house,  I captured this shot:

The phragmite  grass is as beautiful as it is annoying.  Short of using napalm, we can't get rid of it, so we might as well sit back and enjoy it.

Here's a view of the sun setting behind the house:

All's right with my world today, how could you tell?

And if that progress wasn't enough, Eric started work on the final (well, not final, but getting there...) stage of our upstairs renovations.

The missing link is the frame around the door to the master bedroom (behind the formidable plastic zippered door).  Although the master bedroom is finished (well, again, finished but not done to our liking...), the frame around the bedroom door is proving to be quite the production for many reasons.  Part of this is our fault, and our high-falutin tastes.  At some point in time during the upstairs renovations, we decided to finish the master bedroom with a sliding glass door.  Our chosen product is made in France by Sadev, and the hardware has been sitting in a huge tube in the living room for the past 3 years.

Part of what makes this work challenging is the fact Eric is working at critical part of our house.  The unfinished wall you see in the above photo is the old exterior of the original house which has already been butchered by previous owners.  Also, the door leading to the bedroom is not a standard size, and to top things off, it's located right beside the stair and close to the chimney.  It's like a trifecta, a perfect storm of sorts, where more head-scratching, planning and procrastination are needed to fix the various issues.

Of course, the fact we're using a product like the Sadev sliding door rail compounds things even more.  By this point in my life, I don't think we're complicating things, I know we're complicating things.  But when that door is finally rolling on smooth stainless rollers, I'm convinced we will have made the right decision.  I say that with the ease of someone who hasn't had their knuckles ground off against rough-hewn wood, of course.

Eric, who over-engineers something fierce, set about putting up a frame composed of 5"x5" BC fir.  The beams need to fit squarely against the original structure of the house, which, being about 170 years old, calls for some fiddly framing work:

Here's a look behind the chimney, where we have legal clearance of just over 4" (really not obvious from that angle, but the clearance is there).  The old wall needed to be notched and carved out to fit the new beam, but thanks to our new Fein tool, even this onerous task proved do-able.

Again, we can't laud the Fein MultiMaster enough.  We actually hold it and shake our heads in dismay, wondering why we didn't buy it earlier.  We'd probably be finished our renovations by now, come to think of it...

Here's another view of the ensemble, where I'm letting it all hang out, so you can get a good impression of the hovel we somehow manage to thrive in:

Once the frame around the door is complete, we can finally finish the insulation and vapour barrier.  The white thing taking up valuable floor space is but a tiny corner of Eric's massive drafting table.  I'd love to hurl it out the window, but Eric's somewhat disturbingly attached to it.  I fully intend to offset the drafting table with my junk when the upstairs is finished.  That should serve as a warning to Eric that my three sock machines are heading upstairs, along with my sewing machine, and a table large enough to let me work comfortably.

Anyhow, we still have a way to go before finishing the upstairs, but the start is made, and Eric is back into the swing of things.

Hopefully, my next report won't be 1388 days in the making.

As Eric likes to muse, "This is not a race, it's a marathon".

Truer words have never been spoken.

September in Photos

Because, dammit, I am not going to let the calendar roll over to October without a post:

This is what the soy looked like on August 19.  Last Friday, the new Case combine harvester came and cut the soy at warp speed.   I don't even know how many arpents of land we have planted, maybe 34 or 35, but our two fields were cut in under two hours.  The wind was blowing from the east, i.e. towards the house, and everything got covered in dust.  At least I had the fortitude of mind to close the windows in time.

You can always tell where the combines are by the clouds of dust swirling on the horizon.  This is the first year I've noticed that, and it's also the first year so many of the neighboring farms were planted with soy.  Maybe it's a coincidence - maybe it's just the soy, or maybe it's the new combine.

Now, it's hard to get an idea of scale from this photo, but this combine is nearly 15 feet wide.  It takes up the entire width of the road when it's going from farm to farm, and impressive just starts to describe it.  And the cost?  About $450,000 CAD.  Don't wonder why your Wonder bread just got more expensive.  (You shouldn't be eating that crap, anyhow).

Moving right along...

I don't know why I find the weathered cedar shingles on the chicken coop so mesmerizing, but I do.  I love them.  Crazy...I think I could finish a wall inside the house like this and live happily ever after.

Here's a sunrise for your viewing pleasure.  It's scary just how quickly the days are getting shorter.

 And, to balance things out, here's the sunset, almost exactly 12 hours later, give or take a minute or two.

And, because we have the technology, here's the same sunset, a mere 12 minutes later.

Cooper and I have started our daily walks again, and that evening we encountered a coyote.  The sun was setting in my eyes, and I didn't see him until we were within spitting distance.  We had a bit of a show down, and the coyote wasn't going to cede his ground.   He sat down and started barking and howling, and given his size, we weren't about to stick around to see what was next on the menu.  We turned around and headed back, making a mental note to take our walks a bit earlier the next day.

The coyotes in our area are considered as wolf/coyote hybrids, and they're not small.  I've seen them up close, and I'd put them over 80 pounds.  While I've watched Cooper chase them off our property, I wouldn't like to meet more than one during our evening walks.  Actually, one was enough.

Speaking of one being enough, this baby blanket fits that category.  Never again:

Although I consider this baby blanket as the epitome of awesome, it was a challenge.  Intarsia and I will never get along.  NEVAR.

Here's a close up of the little sheepies:

Cute as hell, eh?  Love the 3D effect of the sheep, but this project was not the most fun to knit, unfortunately. Who am I kidding?  I'll probably start another one next week.

Segueing into the "cute as hell" category, this little creature is under our skin in a big, bad way:

I brought home a new litter box, plunked it down on the counter, and within seconds, Capucine AKA Cappy AKA "The Pin-Up" thought she had a new abode.

Cappy is one of the cutest cats I've ever had.  She's affectionate, playful, uncomplicated and scary-smart.  A huge spirit in a furry body.  I've got her purring as a perpetual surround-sound while I'm sitting on the sofa, and from time to time, a little paw will tap me on the shoulder.  It's Cappy, and she wants to watch YouTube videos of Maru.  OK Cappy, let me get this post in the cyber-sphere first.

One day, I'm going to do a review of kitty litter boxes.  Lord knows I have the qualifications.   I'm still trying to find the perfect box to prevent our old hag Schatzie from peeing outside of the litter box, and this model nearly fits the bill.  When I put the litter scooper at the front of the box in just the right position, she's forced to actually get into the box, and turn around before peeing.

What?  No more pee on the floor?  It can't be!

Well.  That's another major Life Goal checked off the list.  When Schatzie finally ambles over the Rainbow Bridge, I don't know if I'll be crying from sadness or utter glee.  Schatzie, the ancient thorn in my side.

I still don't know HOW I managed, but I locked BobCat into an out-building for (ahem) FOUR days.

Yup.  Four days.  Four days spend canvassing the neighbourhood again, and four days convinced I'd never see him again.  I was certain, no, make that 100% positive, that I'd seen him AFTER I locked the shed up.
  
Mea culpa, Bobby.   Sorry 'bout that.

So, dear readers, that's September in a nutshell.  Cappy's waiting to use the lap top, so I better hit the publish button or pay the piper.

Cleaning out the Attic

The crap we hang on to!  Both Eric and I owned 3 bedroom condos before moving here.  The fact we were both in our 30's when we met meant we'd already accumulated a plethora of goods.  We both had hobbies that took up space:  Eric owns scuba equipment, motorcycle racing leathers, loves his radio-controlled models, photography and books.  He owns the largest drafting table I swear I have ever seen, plus a drum set.

In retaliation, I own both downhill and cross-country ski equipment, tons and tons of books, and have a long-standing fetish for antique decoys and old linens.  I own a ton of Christmas decorations.  We might or might not want to mention my wool collection, which takes up about 5 large Rubbermaid bins.  We should mention that between the two of us, we owned 2 of everything:  irons and ironing boards, coffee machines, espresso machines, coffee grinders, cutlery, dishes.  Towels, beds, linens, chairs, desks, and sofas.  It's a miracle we actually need to buy anything ever again, as a matter of fact.

We have a barn beside the house with a little attic we store our duplicates in.  When friends mention they're shopping for something and we think we might have a match, we invite them upstairs and let them have a  look.  We're delighted when kids grow up and move out of their parents' home.  We give away things like colanders and bundt pans and pots and pans.  Need 30 champagne flutes for an upcoming event?  No problem, we've got you covered.  You might as well take the organza table runners and tea-light holders while you're at it, too.

Living in a sparsely decorated house with no attached garage, basement or attic, coupled with the fact old farm houses have no built-in closets caused us to become creative.  Rather, it caused us to become slovenly.  We'd pitch stuff up there so haphazardly that the attic storage started to become unmanageable.  And the more stuff we'd bring up there, the worse things got, obviously.  Excuses for not tackling the space piled up like the contents:  it was either too hot or too cold.  We didn't have the time, or we weren't in the mood for organizing.

Finally, it was Eric who made the first move:  his collection of National Geographics was on the chopping block.  I decided to take them to the War Memorial library, but when I got there to drop them off, a volunteer told me to chuck them straight into the recycling bins out back because there is no demand for them.  The horror!  I couldn't bring myself to do it.  Then I had a brain-storm.  Maybe the Montessori preschool was interested?  I keep forgetting to drop by and ask, so it looks like I've got a permanent collection of National Geographics in the trunk of my car now.  Dammit.

Well, with Eric parting with his precious National Geographics, we moved on:  We culled boxes and papers and obsolete computer equipment.  Mice had taken a feather bed to task, so in the garbage that went.  We found clothing that neither of us claimed to own.  (Maybe someone's living up there besides the mice, and we don't even know it?)  We've recycled tons of stuff, given away tons more, and every day, we put stuff at the road for passers-by to pick up.  By the next morning, it's almost always gone.   It's so nice that we've managed to make space upstairs and get things under pseudo-control.  My conscience is nearly eased.

Today, I went through boxes of old books and sorted a whole lot out.  All the books are going to the War Memorial Library for their monthly fundraising sale.  The paperbacks are left at the bookcase at our local IGA, which sort of functions as a lending library.  You take one book out and put one book in.  Or in my case, you put the books in and don't even THINK of taking one home.  (Must. Avert. Eyes.)

With the upstairs of our house in a state of renovating flux, my decoys don't have a proper home yet.  Today, for the first time in a decade, I opened up the box and had a look-see:

Ahhh, I'd forgotten all about the pin-tail.  I love those birds like they're my off-spring.  Every decoy has a story behind it, and I clutch them to my chest and carry them around, smiling like the damn fool I obviously am.  The photo above is just the tip of my decoy iceberg.

When we tore out our old staircase, we saved those balusters and newel posts that weren't cracked beyond repair.  Of course, we pitched them upstairs:

I have no clue what we're going to do with them, but I can't bring myself to part with them just yet.  I thought of refinishing the best newel post and putting it back into the house, but I'm not sure how I'm going to integrate it yet.  I guess time will tell.

Those lamps I swore I'd turn into piñatas?  They're all up here too...just waiting...for what I don't know.  Probably for me to clean them off and stick them on craigslist or kijiji:

I'll probably just get pissed off, one day soon, and put them at the side of the road.  I'm sure someone, somewhere, would love to hang one of these in their basement, above their poker table...

(I'm dreaming, aren't I?)

These hanging rattan chairs were THE cat's meow - what - 40 years ago?  They're like...vintage...yeah...vintage, that's it.  We have two and one day...one day...we're going to put them somewhere.  I remember swinging in these when I was a kid, and thinking I was a character straight out of a Pink Panther film.  I'm just seriously wondering if we can make them work somewhere in our house.  You'll notice the feathers stuffed in the top corner?  Part of a mouse nest, made out of that feather bed that died an unfortunate death.  I'm sure those mice were pretty happy, though.

Oh.  Pray tell, what have we here?  Why, it's box, a relatively LARGE box, with hundreds and hundreds of corks in it, that's what!  One of my friends has a gorgeous cork-board made from used wine corks, beautifully framed and hanging above the sideboard in their dining room.  It's a work of art, and when I saw it, I was smitten.  I feel bad for all those wine corks, unceremoniously chucked into landfill sites, slowly rotting away.  Sadly, this box makes us looks like we're world-class winos, but rest assured, we're pretty sober most of the time.  One day, I'm going to turn these into a bathmat.  Or trivet.  Or room divider. Or birdhouse.  Or whatever images dot google dot com spews up the day I get around to transforming them.  (Seriously.  Google used cork art.  You'll be amazed at the creativity.  You'll never throw another cork into the garbage, ever again.)

And that, dear friends, is but a small sampling of the goodies stashed away in the Shim Farm attic.  Slowly, we're organizing this jumbled space into a more functional area, clearing our conscience along the way.

In Other News

Just like that, from one day to the next, we received a letter in our mail box saying our postal service had been suspended.  Seems our mail delivery person deemed our road as "too dangerous" to deliver mail safely, and put a complaint in at the ministry of transportation, as well as the workplace safety board.

We now needed to drive into "town", (which is about 5 km from home, and not in a direction we'd normally drive in) to get our mail until a solution to our collective problem was found.  It's no great secret that Canada Post has been cutting back on their rural delivery over the past few years, and I can't say I really blame them.  What I disagree with is Canada Post's insane policies, and the creative ways they twist rules to suit their needs.

It was funny that about one week into our mail embargo, our postie went on vacation, and the replacement postie obviously didn't get the memo.  We started receiving our mail again.

I guess the ministry of transportation got the memo though, because a few days ago, a new speed limit sign was posted down the street.  Even I thought the speed limit at the end of our road was 70 km/h, but apparently it's been 50 km/h, just the sign was missing.  As in, for 10 years, missing.  Ahh, the bunglings of bureaucracy.  I used to burn up the non-emergency number for the cops in early years, complaining about the speeders tearing up and down our street.  Had I known the speed limit was only 50 km/h all the way along our street, I might have been a little more militant.  Alas.  I guess all we needed to do was clip the postie's car and watch the wheels that are government departments spin into over-drive.

Finally, four weeks later, we received a little envelope with 2 keys to an assigned community mail box.  We now get to walk down the street and pick up our mail and packages at a so-called super-box.  It's not convenient, there's no place to turn a car safely, but what the heck.  This little thing called "progress" is nipping at our heels.  As the saying goes:  You will be assimilated.  Canada Post will see to it, that's for sure.

In completely unrelated news, our town is still on a boil-water advisory because of high E. coli test results in our municipal water system.  It's been 3 months now, and a solution to our H2-Oh-Oh problem isn't anywhere on the horizon.  It's hard not to drink water out of the tap, especially while brushing one's teeth, for example.  I've never been a fan of bottled water, so buying water in bulk irritates me.  It's probably more dangerous than what comes out of the tap, considering most of it is bottled in plastic bottles and stored in dog knows what conditions, and for how long?  We always have the choice of switching over to our well water, but if the municipal water supply is contaminated with E. coli, ours is too, in all likelihood.  Why take that chance?

The only water that is tested potable is the run-off from our septic system, disinfected by UV treatment, no less.  Too bad we're not allowed to drink it.  Municipal rules, dontchaknow?  Oh, the irony.

So, every two weeks we receive a new notice, put in our old rural mail box no less, informing us of another 2 week delay.

It's great when systems work, isn't it?

Summer, Thus Far

It goes without saying I've been a crappy blogger.  Without further ado,  here are some photos:

It's been hot and dry.  Unlike many areas of Canada and the US, we've always had a good dumping of rain just in the nick of time, each and every time.  This hay was cut and baled on the same day, a rarity around these parts, where hay normally needs to dry at least a day or two before baling.

You might be able to make out the huge light-standard on the left-hand side of the photo.  This is the new extension of Highway 540 south, AKA Highway 30.  We don't call it the "30 in 30" for nothing - we've been waiting since the 80's for this highway to be built.  Work began in earnest three years ago, and this part of the highway is slated to open this December.

I'm not sure I'm eager to see just how much light those light-standards are going to give off, though.

And because I can't get enough of round bales of hay, here's the field on the other side of the road.

I'll say it again:  the weather this summer has been perfect.

No. Let me take that back.  We've had a lot of tornado warnings this summer, and a lot of wonky radar images that proved a bit troubling, but our general area was spared from really high winds and hail.  This time.

We have a new little JD lawn tractor.  I call her Fawn.  (Get it?  Baby Deer?)  Apparently, Fawn is my birthday present, but I'm still not buying that little gesture.  Ain't.  Buying.  It.

Fawn makes it possible, though, to make the grounds look semi-clean in record time.  Little Fawn is like a go-cart, but with the added bonus of blades.

I get excited about a cut lawn, okay?  Since Fawn's arrival, we were doing the lawn with the big JD and the bush-hog attachment, or my trusty walk-behind Eastman lawnmower.  I love Fawn.  Just ain't sure it's a good birthday present, Eric.

I caught a shot of this turkey vulture sunning himself on the roof of the barn.  The wingspan on these birds is from 63-72" if you believe everything you read on Wiki.  I don't need to believe it, I've seen it.  These birds are impressive.  This vulture sat there for a few moments, completely undisturbed, and then flew off, circling the farm on a thermal.

Because I am an idiot, we have a new cat:

Eric named her Capucine, which is french for nasturtium.  I don't agree on the name, so I'm calling her Cappucino.  Mostly I call her Cappie though, as a sort of compromise.  She's terribly cute and needy.  A real snuggle-muffin the likes of which this house hasn't seen in years.  She gets in my face (literally) and meows when she wants something.  Her meow features a little lisp, her tiny tongue covering her teeth in this adorable baby-cat kind of way.  Check out the hairy-ear action.  Eric always wanted a Maine Coon cat, and this is the closest we're going to get having anything pure-bred around here.  I'm all for mutts, cats and dogs and people alike.  Cappie was part of a stray cat's litter a friend was feeding, and our friend got terribly attached to her.  He couldn't keep her and suggested we take her in.  Well, twist my rubber arm.  I've got sucker written all over me.

The Bobberizer went missing for 5 full days.  I canvassed the neighbourhood, scoured internet missing pet boards, when low and behold, there he was, his little face in the window of the front door.  I haven't been that over-joyed in eons.  My Bobby, back home where he belongs.  He ate 2 tins of celebratory cat food upon his return, which led me to believe he'd been caught in a garage or shed somewhere.  At least he didn't smell of Bounce dryer sheets and cigarette smoke, and he wasn't wearing a flea collar...

Now, every time he comes into the house and I don't roll out the red carpet, he looks at me with disdain.  Sorry Bob, it's back to the mediocre dry food for you.  For some strange reason, he's actually spending the nights inside again, (albeit until 3:34 AM last night).  At 3:34, Bobby got all passive-aggressive, tap dancing on the dresser, and jingling the little pull-rings that open the night-table.  Bob has passive-aggressive down to a fine art, dontcha Bob?  Just another furry monster who has yours truly wrapped around their little paw.

Here's a double-rainbow for your viewing pleasure.  This is the view when I open up the Velux window in the master-bedroom, hence the corner of the roof in the picture.  This happens on a regular basis, so it's not that remarkable to us, but one of the rainbows was so bright I couldn't resist the photo.

Here's more proof:

See?  Awesome, isn't it?

That's been our summer in a nutshell.  I've got so many projects on so many burners that I hardly know where to start.  Stay tuned.

Greetings from Gougouneville

No, it's not a village in Senegal.  Gougoune is the Quebecois word for flip-flops, and it's my riff on the popular Montreal expression of Balconville.  If you're like us and stay home during summer vacation, well, you're staying in Balconville.  I washed Cooper this past weekend, and decided it would be appropriate to own a pair of shoes that could get wet, other than my ubiquitous rubber boots.  With a visit to the grocery store and 4 loonies later, here are my new gougounes:

Summer can officially start now.  I own a pair of flip-flops, a first for me, believe it or not.  While my feet look like they belong to a lady of leisure, my hands look like a diesel mechanic's at this time of year.  They should be OK by the time October rolls around and the dirt wears off and my nails grow back.  Right now, they're so unpresentable as to be terrifying.

The weather in June has been fabulous!  It's been bright, sunny, breezy, and with our early spring, it feels like it's been summer for-ev-ah.  This coming week we'll have temps in the mid 30C's, which translates to low 90's on the Fahrenheit scale, and if that weren't enough, this coming Monday is a statutory holiday.  So is the following Monday, it's our little way of kicking off summer with a double-whammy.  St-Jean-Baptiste day marks the beginning of school vacation in Quebec, and the unofficial start of summer.  Canada Day on July 1 is celebrated by the entire country, but we Quebeckers enjoy the double-header.  It's how we make up for our long and often miserable winter.  So let the games begin!

On the "projects" front, I have asked, begged and pleaded for a clothes line for the past ten years.  This year, I took matters into my own hands because my patience was wearing thin.  (I'm tolerant like that LOL!) I was sure a regular clothes line spanned between two trees or posts wasn't going to happen when Eric started to talk about putting in posts with 4000 psi air-entrained concrete complete with rebar, (Eric over-engineers, dontchaknow?).  I broke down and bought a Brabantia rotary clothes dryer at our local Crappy Tire.  It was 30% off, it's not made in China (it's made in Latvia), and it can be easily stored during winter months.  Since I took this bull by the horns, apparently I am in charge of installing the ground spike that holds the dryer into place.  With our hard clay soil, I'll need a sledge hammer or a backhoe (a thought I did entertain momentarily) to drive it into place.  I was hoping for a nice downpour to saturate the ground, but I think I'll be waiting for a while with the hot spell we have forecast for the next week.  I've decided to just water down the spot where I want the spike, and hope that I can drive the anchor in straight.  Clean laundry flapping in the breeze, here we come!

This year, our field is planted with soy, one of Quebec's largest crops, and it's growing by leaps and bounds.  Obviously, we have corn across the street, because crop rotation ain't happening here, and even though it was planted late, it shot right up with the recent hot temperatures.  We also replaced the two trees in our windbreak that were bulldozed over by the drainage work on the new highway 30, and planted 4 more alongside our driveway.  Hopefully we'll get the chance to plant another 4 on the opposite side of the driveway this week, so eventually, we'll have a sort of tree alley leading to the house.

This year, all I planted were annuals for a punch of colour around our slate patio.  The peach-coloured begonias above come courtesy of my grocery store's garden centre that gets set up in a corner of the parking lot every year.  President's Choice "Gigantico" plants have yet to disappoint me.  This begonia hybrid is called "Dragone Sunset" and was one of the 15 noteworthy plants at Canada's 2012 Blooms show in Toronto.  This photo was taken a few weeks ago, and the leaves have almost been obscured by the vibrant blooms.  I am in love with this begonia!  I also found some large Quebec-made planters which I filled with red geraniums, white wave petunias, dracaena, vinca, ipomoea and euphorbia.  Again this photo was taken right after it was planted, and it's exploded with blossoms and foliage since then.  This is my first time using wave petunias, and it most definitely won't be the last.

I did some planters with coleus and dusty miller, and others with gazania.  I threw some lobelia in with a flat-leafed parsley plant and it's turning into a nice combo.  I have a few herb planters I do every year with the standard list of characters:  sweet basil and "regular" basil (because I wanted to know, once and for all, what the difference is!), Thai basil, Greek oregano, sage, rosemary, cilantro and thyme.  I planted one "El Jefe" jalapeño pepper in a huge pot supplemented with lots of chicken manure and shrimp compost, plus I'm still on the look-out for a yellow cherry tomato plant.  I bought one at Quinn's Farm last year, and the little tomatoes were sweet like candy.  I'm not a big tomato fan (hello heartburn!) so this is a huge admission coming from me.  This year - the clothes line - next year - raised garden beds!  I've got to fight my battles one year at a time.

Eric is conducting phase II of a potato experiment in our sole garden bed that's not planted with our wind-break trees.  His father sent us true potato seeds from France (yes, seeds from the potato flowers he pollinated himself) which we planted last year.  I found an interesting article on growing potatoes from seed "seed" here, as opposed to growing potatoes conventionally from tubers.

A more in-depth read on potato breeding can be found here, courtesy of Raoul A. Robinson.  From the plants we grew last year, we harvested lots of teeny tiny baby potatoes, the largest of which was the size of an egg.  This year, we're growing plants from those tiny potatoes which we kept in the crawl space this winter.  When I took them out this spring, they were already sprouting, and we finally got them into the ground about a month ago.  Eric took the old rototiller he inherited from his father when his parents moved back to France years ago, and went to town preparing the bed for planting.  Our soil is very clayey and needs lots of amending.  We've brought in tons of manure with our tractor's front loader from our neighbour's farm, and put in tons of leaf mulch.   Eventually, we'll get there.  What we really need is a 48" rototiller for the big John Deere, and believe me, we're working on it.

The field right beside the house was left fallow, which is the second year running if my memory serves me well.  The hay fields are full of bobolinks, whose crazy songs fill the air.  In past years, the hay was cut before the baby birds could fledge, but I think they're safe this year.  Today I noticed a proliferation of birds which I'm going to attribute to our early spring and the head-start the birds got nesting.  In past years, the hay was cut before the baby birds could fly, and crows could be seen for days on end, feasting on the remains.  It made me sad to see, but this year I'm convinced the babies are safe.

BobCat surprised us this past winter, with his level of devotion and his Velcro-like behaviour.  He did two things that surprised me this week.  First, he hates it when I take a bath.  He circles the tub, meowing all the time, and won't leave me alone until I'm out of the water.  The other day, he circled the tub, and put his paws on a shelf in the tub, trying to get close to me.  Then he reached out for me, and grabbing hold of my scalp, dug his claws in.  While I appreciate Bob's concern, I'm not about to drown in the tub, but I guess he's not quite convinced about my ability to extricate myself from harm's way.  Second, Cooper got attacked by a friend's psycho Bernese Mountain dog, and although no blood was drawn, BobCat came to Cooper's defense, and puffed himself up and screamed bloody murder, ready to take on a foe 85 pounds heavier than himself.  Bob and Cooper aren't even buddies in the sense they don't cuddle together, but they are mutual in their respect for each other, and I found it remarkable that Bob would come to Cooper's defense like he did.

Another one who surprises us:

I cannot tell you how many times I hover over Schatzie's sleeping body, checking for signs of life.  Sometimes, she sleeps with one eye open, and I think - that's it - she's finally kicked the proverbial bucket.  I never cease to be amazed by this cat's perseverance.  This May, we started year 8 of her presence in our house, and it's hard to believe she's still around and kicking, considering the old snaggle-toothed hag was 20  when we adopted her.  With the warm weather we've been having, she stumbles outside when I get home from work and lays down on the slate tiles, warming her old arthritic bones.  This evening, BobCat went and lay down beside her, as though he knows she's old, frail, half-blind, stone-deaf and completely defenseless against a predator.  I'm not anthropomorphizing, because I am convinced he was looking out for her.  BobCat's that kind of cat.

That pretty much summarizes the month of June so far, but it's not over yet.  We still need to get a few more trees planted, the ground spike for my rotary clothes dryer driven into the ground (the laundry's piling up and I'll be damned to turn on the dryer once more this season...), plus all those other summer rituals like mowing, mowing and more mowing.  Summer is the busiest time of the year on so many fronts, hence this long and disjointed post.

Until next time, greetings from Gougouneville.