On riding a motorcycle in a barrel

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Once upon a time when I was a young fellow at loose ends I ran away to join the circus. Strictly speaking it was a travelling carnival, but why quibble over minor details? Close, enough, if you ask me.

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I think it was shortly after I ran an ad in the classified section of the Toronto Daily Star. Young man looking for work was about all it said in so many words. I got one response from somebody who offered me a job as a shepherd on a large sheep ranch in Alberta. I was tempted, and maybe, now that I think of it, I should have taken the job. But I didn’t. Continue reading →

The Passion of Joan of Arc, a miracle movie

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I can’t let this day go by without noting it is the date, May 30, Joan of Arc was burned at the stake 585 years ago after being tried on a variety of charges, including wearing men’s clothing.

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Renee Falconetti as Joan in Carl Dreyer’s great classic movie, The Passion of Joan of Ar

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A lost opportunity in relations with First Nations

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I have a clear memory of sitting across from the late Chief James Mason in his office at the Saugeen First Nation Band Office at Chippawa Hill more than 30 years ago. It may not have been the first time, or the last time. I had several such meetings/interviews with him. My beat as an Owen Sound Sun Times reporter at the time included Aboriginal Affairs and the various issues affecting the two First Nations in Ontario’s Grey-Bruce area, the other being the Chippewas of Nawash at Cape Croker.

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A wonderful abundance

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Clouds of Forget-Me-Nots in the Wild Apple Farm woods    Photos by Linda

I don’t recall ever seeing so many of those pretty little flowers known as Forget-Me-Nots, especially in the woods here in Hope Ness. But the “wow” factor was particularly intense at nearby Wild Apple Farm where my friend Linda paused to prepare me for the sight as we were about to enter the virtual wonderland of her trail through the wild-apple woods. Continue reading →

In praise of gardening: let me count the ways

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There’s nothing like a well-timed, warm, spring rain to get a day of gardening off to a good start. After almost as week of mostly sunny weather, and judging the soil to be warm enough, I rolled the dice and got most of two varieties of sweet corn planted a couple of days ago, and then a few, tentative rows of bush beans that also need warmed soil to germinate. It’s especially important when you use seed untreated with fungicide as I do.

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Rows of Irish Cobbler potato plants have emerged

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Philip, are you listening?

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I was out planting row after row of sweet corn in my garden this afternoon when the thought came to me again as it often does, seemingly out of the blue. And now no sooner are those words out of my fingertips onto the electronic page than I recognize they are literally true, insofar as I was working under a clear, blue cloudless sky. There was nothing, absolutely nothing to come between me and the truth that was trying to reach me at last. Continue reading →

A happy day in Hope Ness

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A cool breeze from Georgian Bay to the east was blowing this morning, so it was still toque-weather for me. But those two little ones, and the bigger ones too, were having the time of their lives in the great Hope Ness outdoors.

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“Grandpa” at the controls of Mr. Massey Too, with Allie, Asia, Jacob, Mirabella, and son-in-law Scott enjoying a trailer ride.

It was a homecoming for my two youngest daughters, Lila Marie and Kathy, who were both born just around the corner and as little children used to visit Wilma and Cliff Butchart at this very Cathedral Drive homestead. Continue reading →

Respecting the limits of technology

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The car that was driven into Little Tub Harbour in Tobermory with the help of a GPS on board is shown here in the process of being towed out. A courageous young woman managed to open a window and swim out of the fully submerged car

Let me say right off that I have a deeply respectful attitude toward any boat launch ramp I may be anywhere near ever since Mr. Massey sank in Lion’s Head Harbour. Continue reading →

Don’t beat yourself up too much, Justin

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My Concise Oxford Dictionary describes the meaning of the word pensive as “plunged in thought” and “melancholy.”Justin_Trudeau_APEC_2015

I confess I never thought of it having such dark, minor-key overtones – more Samuel Barber than Mozart. Not  that I spent a lot of time thinking about it, but pensive always struck me as a more easy-going sort of thoughtfulness, as in sitting back in a relaxed sort of way, just staring into the fire after a hard day’s work and letting the mind wander where it will, or not.

It’s that kind of a late evening: the last few days have been way too busy and stressful, what with one thing or another on the personal front. Meanwhile, the news has been full of Canada’s Liberal Prime Minister Justin Trudeau crossing the floor of Parliament from the Government to the Opposition side, and then taking a Conservative members arm to help him through a blockade of NDP members trying to do what they could to slow down the business of the House. And then, to make matters worse, he elbowed one female NDP member hard enough to make her flee the house in distress. Continue reading →