It is one of those days. Well, another one of those days. Wake up to the sight of snow on the ground. Snow falling from the sky. Below zero temperature. A grey day.
Not grey, blue. A sad blue day. A day to sit by a blazing fireplace with a good book and a glass of wine. Red wine. Maybe some really soft music humming in the background. Not listening music but emotionally embracing music.
Do you think horses dream? They must. They probably day dream as well.
I am a bit like this horse is probably feeling. Dreaming about hitting the road at full gallop and making tracks for wide open spaces.
I think I, like the horse, would prefer to skip the saddle.
I almost didn't do a blog. I was having way too much fun playing crib. Getting skunked. Humiliated.
So this blog is about being defeated. Hammered. Clobbered.
Time to go to my happy place.
I had a few things to say about rainbows but it all became a mish-mash and . . . well . . . maybe I should go to Oz and ask the Wizard for some advice.
With my luck it would be snowing there.
I would get stuck a the driving snow storm.
The Blizzard of Oz.
I am not faster than a speeding bullet (I guess that is a positive), more powerful than a locomotive, or able to leap tall buildings in a single bound but I still think I have a super power hidden somewhere.
I used to dream that I could fly. Now I dream that I can act. I have dreams where I am onstage in a really bad play. Nobody knows lines. Nobody even knows what the play is called.
Last night I dreamed that I was directing a stage production of The Trailer Park Boys. The guy who plays Bubbles on t.v. wanted to audition for one of the other characters (don't know the name because I have never actually seen the show. Just the ads) but I didn't want him.
I wish I could go back to dreaming about flying.
Dogwood Petroleum Services would like a call. They must be trying to make friends because they are not asking you to call if there is an emergency situation; they just want a call.
Only specific times and on specific days, though.
They just want a call.
Collect.
I guess the theme of the week, or at least the weekend, is roof. And if you are going to shoot a picture of a roof, why stop at one?
I was feeling a little sad today and the sight of the wreckage seemed to fit my spirit in some way.
How much blood is represented here? How many broken bones? Broken families? Deaths?
Trash is trash but sometimes more is thrown away than can be seen.
A flat roof can be an interesting place. A large open expansive prairie with only the occasional steel cactus to intrude upon the landscape. An interesting place to shoot a photograph. Maybe even portraits. Exuberant nudes.
Maybe I should just stick to the ground.
A sure sign of spring is the arrival of the hockey playoffs.
Another sure sign is the absence of hockey.
Outdoor hockey rinks are gently removed by the arrival of warmer weather to make way for the coming summer pursuits. Bicycles. Baseballs. Soccer balls. Picnics.
I know. It is kind of late in the day but today is World Water Day. The theme this year is 'Coping with Water Scarcity.'
According to worldwaterday.org:
"The international observance of World Water Day is an initiative that grew out of the 1992 United Nations Conference on Environment and Development (UNCED) in Rio de Janeiro.
The United Nations General Assembly designated 22 March of each year as the World Day for Water by adopting a resolution."
On another note: Happy Birthday, mum.
Yesterday I sat trying to plan a little get-away for some personal regeneration. Checking for interesting places to stay and found that there is a little problem.
The interesting places are expensive.
Seems a little cool for these old bones to camp right now but can I afford the huge price of those little B&Bs?
I guess it is a question of priorities.
Just have to factor regeneration into my budget.
Spring is slowly hatching.
The time when colour seems to be limited to sleeping plants waiting to be revived by the warmth of the sun.
People are also waiting to be revived.
Spring is that time when the snow melts slowly away revealing those hidden treasures (a.k.a. trash) that have accumulated over the winter.
What you don't see as much these days are discarded magnetic tapes. No little cassettes with their guts pulled out. Certainly no 8 Track tapes. There was once a time when they could be discovered in abundance.
Now there are the occasional fractured cd lying dead on the road.
Okay, I admit it. I am kind of a crime show addict. Cold Case Files. American Justice. And the fictional ones as well. C.S.I. is probably my favourite United Statesian one. But even it pales in comparison to the ones by the Brits.
And of course no series is better than the great (now canceled) Canadian series Da Vinci's Inquest.
I went to a health care demonstration this morning. Good friendly people who are trying to get the message across that this is Canada. This is not the United States where you need money to get health care. In Canada Health Care is a right and not a privilege to be enjoyed only by the privileged.
Our government is determined to deliver Health Care to through corporations where the financial bottom line it more important that whether you live or die. Is your appendix exploding? Bring your credit card.
I was going through some pictures that I shot last year and came upon this one. I remember it and have always wondered what it is.
It is on the roof of a building; I shot the photo from a much higher roof.
From the area of town, I suspect that it was tossed up by a thief. Maybe one being pursued. Or maybe it turned out to be of no value. If of no value, why toss it? Why not just drop it in the alley?
It was probably nothing.
But maybe I should climb that roof and have a look.
I was feeling, once again, in need of some warm weather.
I have heard that Venezuela has a beautiful, sultry, hot, and exciting climate.
It may be a politically stormy area but it might be a nice place to visit.
No talk about the weather today (even though this morning was sunny turning to snow this afternoon).
Where does one go to become a Cobbler? Are there special Cobbler Schools? The University of Shoes? Cobbler U.?
And is there a secret society of Cobblers? Like the Masons but even more secret and sinister? Maybe it is not the Ancient Free and Accepted Masons who rule the world? Maybe they are mere underlings to the true rulers. The Order of Cobblers.
They too have a ritual murders. Instead of just hanging you from a bridge, they leave you hanging with your mouth stuffed full of a certain deep-dish fruit dessert.
Have you ever wondered how railway flatcars are stored? It is so easy.
Just stack them.
I am still dreaming of spring and summer even with fresh snow on the ground.
Do I sound disappointed? No? Well, the truth is that I am.
'nuff said.
Roger Miller gets credit for the words. I am aching for summer.
This fern was shot in my favourite local walking place. The estate out back that where I like to wander alone and think.
Right now it is to mucky to walk there. Waiting for summer gets more difficult every day.
I am having another one of those fractured days. You know what they are like. Days when your brain is heading in one direction but you body is heading in another.
My brain ready to do things. My body is not. I tried reading but my body dozed off. I thought I should have a snack because I haven't eaten much today but my body just is not interested.
My brain is ready for action. It wants to strike out on a journey. Nothing serious but maybe a walk for an hour or so.
The brain just has to convince the body that it is a really good idea.
The brain seems to be losing the argument.
Girls - they want to have fun
Oh girls just want to have fun
Why shouldn't adults have a time set aside when only they can go to playgrounds? No kids. Just adults having fun on the swings and slides and teeter-totters. Screaming and laughing without the worry that some little bully is going to kick you off.
I think it is a great idea. Kids get to monopolise all the the fun things in life. It is time to strike back and have a little fun ourselves.
Not just those adults in their twenties and thirties and forties. All adults.
It is time for a little geriatric joy!
I have been reading a really good book called The Stories of English and it made me think about people with whom I am acquainted. What would they be doing if they lived long long ago in a place far far away.
For instance, this Viking Beauty. Would she be a Warrior Queen? Would she be one of the conquering forces who lived in Angleland (England) and introduced new laws that became part of English law and introduced new words that became part of the English language?
Yeah, she would be a Queen.
I, on the other hand, would be a little Ukrainian wheat farmer. With allergies.
I just don't shoot enough profiles.
There is something special about Becca's face in profile that exposes both strength and intelligence. It reminds me of a Van Gogh drawing. Not a painting. One of his charcoal drawings.
I would love to re-shoot her classic beauty someday.
What gorgeous weather. Makes a guy impatient for the arrival of the grass and flowers and leaves.
Now if it would just arrive without the allergens.
I read another story about Stanley Park and was reminded of a recent walk through Prince George's Connaught Hill Park where I saw over two trees that had been uprooted by winds. In fact, I think it was three. Could be more though.
I was nearly stricken with grief. Those poor trees.
The photograph above is not of a fallen tree. It is of a standing tree. A standing dead tree. Killed by the dreaded mountain pine beetle which has devastated millions of trees. Millions.
Since 1997, the mountain pine beetle has killed more than 300,000 hectares in the areas around Prince George and Quesnel. That is about 750,000 acres.
They don't, however, compare to the three tress that I saw and the few in Stanley Park.
A mountain of scrapped wheels are a testament to the maintenance program of CN Rail. Run the crap out of the rail cars until they just cannot run any longer then scrap them. It is better than maintaining them, it seems.
Now not all these freight car wheels are from scrapped cars. Some are wheels that are worn out but many are just plain junked cars.
There is also a scrap heap of CN people.
Did you know that no one may "use for commercial purposes" means the use of Olympic symbols, including the 5 Rings, for profit-making purposes in the following ways:
(1) The use of Olympic symbols in goods, packages or containers of goods or trade documents of good;
(2) The use of Olympic symbols in services;
(3) The use of Olympic symbols in advertising, commercial exhibition, profit-making performance and other commercial activities;
(4) Selling, importing or exporting goods bearing Olympic symbols;
(5) Manufacturing or selling Olympic symbols;
(6) Other acts that might mislead people to think there are sponsorship or other supporting relations between the doers and the right holders of Olympic symbols.
In fact, the use of the word Olympic can get you (or me) into a lot of legal difficulties. Doesn't this want one to claim status as an official Olympic Photographer?
It is easy to like windows. I really like them when they distort the world around us. And the added reality is that banks are a real distortion.
They raise our rates as they lay off people.
They raise our rates as they ask us to bank electronically so that real people are are left out of the equation.
They raise our rates because the service they provide is so costly.
And then - record profits.
March 1st is not just St. David's Day. It is also National Pig Day. Well, I guess it is international Pig Day now.
Go to http://website.lineone.net/~jbonno/greenpigs/pigday.htm for some interesting pig facts as well as Celebrity Pigs.
It is time to celebrate the beautiful and intelligent ones on this earth.
