Life around the cottage, the house, the Toronto Maple Leafs, life's curiosities and anything else that crosses my fancy.
Friday, November 02, 2012
Friday, August 03, 2012
Chipmunk clown car
It seems that I keep seeing chipmunks leaving the cottage which means they are roaming around checking out what food they can steal away. Lincoln's kibbley bits are a favourite and he helps them out by spreading them about the room. We had a squirrel find it's way in to the porch and Lincoln chased it back and forth. it would not take any directions on where the door was so we left it to get out on its own. This meant the front door had to be left opened and this also meant that the chipmunks came and went as they pleased. In the bedroom, the porch, the living room and the kitchen. They came out of the cottage like clowns from a clown car.
When I came into the kitchen I thought I saw a shadow on the broken
stove. Popping out from a burner was the head of a chipmunk.
Later I heard something rustling around and low and behold there was a cereal bar on the floor with little teeth marks in the foil wrapper. It was taken from the box and dragged across the floor. Dropped in haste and heard from a nearby tree a scolding squirrel yelling its anger at missing such a treat.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
When I came into the kitchen I thought I saw a shadow on the broken
stove. Popping out from a burner was the head of a chipmunk.
Later I heard something rustling around and low and behold there was a cereal bar on the floor with little teeth marks in the foil wrapper. It was taken from the box and dragged across the floor. Dropped in haste and heard from a nearby tree a scolding squirrel yelling its anger at missing such a treat.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Friday, June 15, 2012
Eeeek, it's actually warm at the Cottage
I had a week vacation in May and now a week in June and this time the weather has been good. A little cool at night and one bad storm makes for a good vacation. Dad and I are putting up a tarp over one of the cabins cause the roof is so bad. Makeshift at best and until I save enough to do all the roofs at once. There is a chipmunk that has been trying to get into the cottage. It's
quite bold and I think that it had torn into some tea bags that I had left on the counter. We got the outdoor shower up and working and after feeling crusty and marinating in my on sweat it was nice to have a hot shower. Dad did not find the soap I had left him so his shower was a bit lacking. Lincoln ( our Border Collie) is getting old and is now sleeping in the cottage rather than my cabin because of the stairs. He is still chasing squirrels and swimming. See not my imagination, there is the little bugger having lunch. He ran into the porch and we can not find him to shoo him out. Lincoln was not at his best as he didn't notice him at all.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
quite bold and I think that it had torn into some tea bags that I had left on the counter. We got the outdoor shower up and working and after feeling crusty and marinating in my on sweat it was nice to have a hot shower. Dad did not find the soap I had left him so his shower was a bit lacking. Lincoln ( our Border Collie) is getting old and is now sleeping in the cottage rather than my cabin because of the stairs. He is still chasing squirrels and swimming. See not my imagination, there is the little bugger having lunch. He ran into the porch and we can not find him to shoo him out. Lincoln was not at his best as he didn't notice him at all.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Saturday, May 12, 2012
The Current School System
Shape Them Carefully, Don't Dull Them
He always wanted to say things. But no one understood. He always wanted to explain things. But no one cared.
So he drew.
Sometimes he would just draw and it wasn’t anything. He wanted to carve it in stone or write it in the sky.
He would lie out on the grass and look up in the sky and it would be only him and the sky and the things inside him that needed saying.
And it was after that, that he drew the picture. It was a beautiful picture. He kept it under the pillow and would let no one see it. He would look at it every night and think about it. And when it was dark, and his eyes were closed, he could still see it. And it was all of him. And he loved it.
When he started school he brought it with him. Not to show anyone, but just to have it with him like a friend.
It was funny about school. He sat in a square, brown desk like all the other square brown desks, and he thought it should be red. And his room was a square, brown room...like all the their rooms...and it was tight and close...and stiff. He hated to hold the pencil and the chalk, with his arm stiff and his feet flat on the floor, stiff, with the teacher watching and watching.
And then he had to write numbers. And they weren’t anything. They were worse than the letters that could be something if you put them together. And the numbers were tight and square and he hated the whole thing.
The teacher came and spoke to him. She told him to wear a tie like all the other boys. He said he didn’t like them and she said it didn’t matter.
After that they drew. And he drew all yellow and it was the way he felt about morning. And it was beautiful.
The teacher came and smiled at him. “What’s this?” she said. Why don’t you draw something like Ken’s drawing? Isn’t that beautiful?”
It was all questions.
After that his mother bought him a tie and he always drew airplanes and rocket ships like everyone else. And he threw the old picture away.
And when he lay out alone looking at the sky, it was big and blue and all of everything, but HE wasn’t anymore.
He was square inside and brown and his hands were stiff, and he was like everyone else. And the thing inside him that needed saying didn’t need saying anymore.
It had stopped pushing.
It was crushed...stiff...like everything else.
(Source: A College Study)
Courtesy of Wm. E. Bishop, APSS President Elect
Englewood, Colorado
From Patterns for Progress, Cooper River School District
North Charleston, South Carolina
He always wanted to say things. But no one understood. He always wanted to explain things. But no one cared.
So he drew.
Sometimes he would just draw and it wasn’t anything. He wanted to carve it in stone or write it in the sky.
He would lie out on the grass and look up in the sky and it would be only him and the sky and the things inside him that needed saying.
And it was after that, that he drew the picture. It was a beautiful picture. He kept it under the pillow and would let no one see it. He would look at it every night and think about it. And when it was dark, and his eyes were closed, he could still see it. And it was all of him. And he loved it.
When he started school he brought it with him. Not to show anyone, but just to have it with him like a friend.
It was funny about school. He sat in a square, brown desk like all the other square brown desks, and he thought it should be red. And his room was a square, brown room...like all the their rooms...and it was tight and close...and stiff. He hated to hold the pencil and the chalk, with his arm stiff and his feet flat on the floor, stiff, with the teacher watching and watching.
And then he had to write numbers. And they weren’t anything. They were worse than the letters that could be something if you put them together. And the numbers were tight and square and he hated the whole thing.
The teacher came and spoke to him. She told him to wear a tie like all the other boys. He said he didn’t like them and she said it didn’t matter.
After that they drew. And he drew all yellow and it was the way he felt about morning. And it was beautiful.
The teacher came and smiled at him. “What’s this?” she said. Why don’t you draw something like Ken’s drawing? Isn’t that beautiful?”
It was all questions.
After that his mother bought him a tie and he always drew airplanes and rocket ships like everyone else. And he threw the old picture away.
And when he lay out alone looking at the sky, it was big and blue and all of everything, but HE wasn’t anymore.
He was square inside and brown and his hands were stiff, and he was like everyone else. And the thing inside him that needed saying didn’t need saying anymore.
It had stopped pushing.
It was crushed...stiff...like everything else.
(Source: A College Study)
Courtesy of Wm. E. Bishop, APSS President Elect
Englewood, Colorado
From Patterns for Progress, Cooper River School District
North Charleston, South Carolina
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)