Northern weather
Re: Northern weather
Rich, I raise my glass to you. A photo from D. My new mystery clock from 1953 called the Golden Hour. Is it not these things that matter?
That a life will be spent gaining inches,
When this distance is read in miles.
When this distance is read in miles.
Re: Northern weather
Nice clock, but love the lady dancing on the wall!
Re: Northern weather
Dirt - Meanwhile, up here in Maine . . .
Re: Northern weather
Daisy, *Ouch*!
Looks like your snow is still well-entrenched and fortified. The snow that slant-drifted into our eroded driveway was too solid to use our snowblower, and too stiff to use Ray's drag-behind plow on his tractor. The tractor rode up on the snow, and the plow tilted with it. We need a plow that goes in front. Me and my teenagers wound up taking shifts with shovels over the 600-odd feet of the driveway over a few days, to render it usable. The old-fashioned way.
Too bad we don't live in your town. My two boys alone would have unencumbered you of all that stuff tout de suite. I'm going to miss them when they move on. They provide some serious horsepower.
BTW, cardinals overwinter here also. A beautiful and welcome splash of color on the most bleak and grey of winter days.
Thanks for the pic.
Looks like your snow is still well-entrenched and fortified. The snow that slant-drifted into our eroded driveway was too solid to use our snowblower, and too stiff to use Ray's drag-behind plow on his tractor. The tractor rode up on the snow, and the plow tilted with it. We need a plow that goes in front. Me and my teenagers wound up taking shifts with shovels over the 600-odd feet of the driveway over a few days, to render it usable. The old-fashioned way.
Too bad we don't live in your town. My two boys alone would have unencumbered you of all that stuff tout de suite. I'm going to miss them when they move on. They provide some serious horsepower.
BTW, cardinals overwinter here also. A beautiful and welcome splash of color on the most bleak and grey of winter days.
Thanks for the pic.
Re: Northern weather
Tramp wrote:A photo from D. My new mystery clock from 1953 called the Golden Hour. Is it not these things that matter?
You bet! You have a good eye, and Miss D. is quite the artist with the camera.
Rich
Re: Northern weather
The Dirt wrote:BTW, cardinals overwinter here also. A beautiful and welcome splash of color on the most bleak and grey of winter days.
There was one that frequented a huge white spruce in the corner of my lot during last Fall, but I haven't seen him during the cold weather. It will be interesting to see if milder temps bring his return.
Rich
Re: Northern weather
Apparently, this is the season the male cardinals compete for exclusive mating/nesting rights with the females. One of the key deciding points for the female in choosing her mate is what kind of food he's able to provide her while there's not much around. We put out some black-oiled sunflower seeds, which is supposed to be the most desirable possible food for cardinals, and that fellow in the photo was just about to get one seed; then I saw him flit up to the bittersweet just above where a female cardinal was waiting - and he fed her the seed, mouth to mouth.
Dirt, (why can I still not feel good calling you that?)
maybe you can install one of those new solar-lined driveways where all snow instantly melts upon touching down?
Dirt, (why can I still not feel good calling you that?)
maybe you can install one of those new solar-lined driveways where all snow instantly melts upon touching down?Re: Northern weather
"Pete" works.
Maybe it's time to switch back.
That lamp in your picture must be beautiful when lit. I also love the one in the front foyer diptych where the base is lit. You both choose wisely.
Maybe it's time to switch back.
That lamp in your picture must be beautiful when lit. I also love the one in the front foyer diptych where the base is lit. You both choose wisely.
Re: Northern weather
Tramp and Daisy (et al)
The cardinals have been sorting out the pairings here, as well. We also have house finches who are starting to show a dazzle of welcome colour. The big news here is the arrival of our migratory geese. The air is fairly filled with the cheerful traffic as flock after flock descend to our nearby ponds only to discover the foolish things are still frozen over (albeit with pretty spongy ice by now). No matter, they adjourn to the nearby corn-fields for what sounds like an outdoor church luncheon; this one now going on for the last week or so. We have a few that winter here, just to keep a hand in, but their mates are all returning, probably having followed the convoys of white Buicks with New Jersey tags on their way back north from Florida.
And now, a musing...
Tramp, mate, I'll have to admit I've been on a good sulk myself over the last couple weeks or odd. I should be in Chicago for the O Scale meet right now, but the base of my spine just won't take a full day's seated travel anymore. Lots of time this week spent (wasted might be more appropriate) looking at old photos my recently deceased uncle and I took on our railroad pilgrimages (he started me on all this some 50 years ago), sifting through old uniforms and other memorabilia from back when life "had a purpose", dreaming of horses, motorcycles, and airplanes all of which I have no business being anywhere near any more; you get the idea of the oppressiveness of the "Black Dog" here as of late. I've been pretty miserable to be around, I'm sure.
You ask, "Is it not these things that matter?" I love a nice old clock, the simple genius in a 1930s radio, a real book with pages. But there's my son on the couch with his dam tablet. But look again. Our great huge ginger tom is curled up behind his knees, eyes shut and a purr that gently fills the room. My son. He and I have been (ready for this one?) doing live theatre over the winter. I've never done stage acting before, so its great fun. Best bit, he and I can connect where so many of his generation can't with their dad. Neither one of us are higher on the feeding chain than character-acting; no protagonist roles for us, but that puts us on an equal footing with each other. He is a "thing that matters", and I would do well to remember it, and to enjoy the good fortune that says in an art-form we've found a common ground where we can connect, and connect as equals.
I look across my parlour and hear in my mind an old London music-hall standard that says "There ain't a girl livin' in this land as I'd swop for my dear old Dutch." I never knew, as a young single man, why tough old Cockneys' eyes would moisten whenever someone reprises that old warhorse. I do now. Our respective better halves (Daisy, I'm not calling you old, so please have mercy!), and they indeed are the better, are "things that matter", bless'm all.
Our little crowd of hobos, Jon, Pete, Ruf, Murph, the Daves and Rich and all those that leaven and season the intellectual bread that is the Jungle, really is a rare thing. We have a little crowd that, over thousands and thousands of messages back and forth, are friends. Sure we might not have ever laid eyes on each other, but given a choice between a high-school reunion and meeting this bunch face-to-face in a sawdust-floored hole-in-the-wall somewhere, there'd be no difficult decision. The things that matter...
I'm no fool, so I won't say material things don't matter. A piece of art, an engineering triumph, a great book, a piece of architecture that speaks to the accomplishments of generations past. A truly great automobile, a lovely airplane, cats and dogs and wise gentle draught-horses. Guns and roses and the birds in the trees. Models of trains and the tools to make them and the joy that is the memories they evoke. Because they are the vehicles that bind us, open our eyes, and engage our minds, our senses, indeed our souls, they matter; only a fool would hold otherwise.
Take heart, lads and lasses! Mr Patel is here with the drinks trolley, serving up a snifter to all and sundry.
To things that matter; to Life!
The cardinals have been sorting out the pairings here, as well. We also have house finches who are starting to show a dazzle of welcome colour. The big news here is the arrival of our migratory geese. The air is fairly filled with the cheerful traffic as flock after flock descend to our nearby ponds only to discover the foolish things are still frozen over (albeit with pretty spongy ice by now). No matter, they adjourn to the nearby corn-fields for what sounds like an outdoor church luncheon; this one now going on for the last week or so. We have a few that winter here, just to keep a hand in, but their mates are all returning, probably having followed the convoys of white Buicks with New Jersey tags on their way back north from Florida.
And now, a musing...
Tramp, mate, I'll have to admit I've been on a good sulk myself over the last couple weeks or odd. I should be in Chicago for the O Scale meet right now, but the base of my spine just won't take a full day's seated travel anymore. Lots of time this week spent (wasted might be more appropriate) looking at old photos my recently deceased uncle and I took on our railroad pilgrimages (he started me on all this some 50 years ago), sifting through old uniforms and other memorabilia from back when life "had a purpose", dreaming of horses, motorcycles, and airplanes all of which I have no business being anywhere near any more; you get the idea of the oppressiveness of the "Black Dog" here as of late. I've been pretty miserable to be around, I'm sure.
You ask, "Is it not these things that matter?" I love a nice old clock, the simple genius in a 1930s radio, a real book with pages. But there's my son on the couch with his dam tablet. But look again. Our great huge ginger tom is curled up behind his knees, eyes shut and a purr that gently fills the room. My son. He and I have been (ready for this one?) doing live theatre over the winter. I've never done stage acting before, so its great fun. Best bit, he and I can connect where so many of his generation can't with their dad. Neither one of us are higher on the feeding chain than character-acting; no protagonist roles for us, but that puts us on an equal footing with each other. He is a "thing that matters", and I would do well to remember it, and to enjoy the good fortune that says in an art-form we've found a common ground where we can connect, and connect as equals.
I look across my parlour and hear in my mind an old London music-hall standard that says "There ain't a girl livin' in this land as I'd swop for my dear old Dutch." I never knew, as a young single man, why tough old Cockneys' eyes would moisten whenever someone reprises that old warhorse. I do now. Our respective better halves (Daisy, I'm not calling you old, so please have mercy!), and they indeed are the better, are "things that matter", bless'm all.
Our little crowd of hobos, Jon, Pete, Ruf, Murph, the Daves and Rich and all those that leaven and season the intellectual bread that is the Jungle, really is a rare thing. We have a little crowd that, over thousands and thousands of messages back and forth, are friends. Sure we might not have ever laid eyes on each other, but given a choice between a high-school reunion and meeting this bunch face-to-face in a sawdust-floored hole-in-the-wall somewhere, there'd be no difficult decision. The things that matter...
I'm no fool, so I won't say material things don't matter. A piece of art, an engineering triumph, a great book, a piece of architecture that speaks to the accomplishments of generations past. A truly great automobile, a lovely airplane, cats and dogs and wise gentle draught-horses. Guns and roses and the birds in the trees. Models of trains and the tools to make them and the joy that is the memories they evoke. Because they are the vehicles that bind us, open our eyes, and engage our minds, our senses, indeed our souls, they matter; only a fool would hold otherwise.
Take heart, lads and lasses! Mr Patel is here with the drinks trolley, serving up a snifter to all and sundry.
To things that matter; to Life!
Re: Northern weather
Buck up fellas, the vernal equinox is nearly upon us. A sure sign of Spring manifests itself each evening as the retrievers return to me covered head-to-toe in mud. Ah, the wonder of it all...
Shot right past my retirement date yesterday, Friday the 13th. It didn't feel like it, knowing I've agreed to stay on a couple of days each week until my replacement is on-site and transitioned. Still, a milestone slipped past. Simultaneously put the wrap on physical therapy...the shoulder would seem to be about 95% now...maybe that's the best I'll get.
Now time to get serious about grinding some flash off the frame...the life of a bean-counter has done my physique no favors.
Healey
Shot right past my retirement date yesterday, Friday the 13th. It didn't feel like it, knowing I've agreed to stay on a couple of days each week until my replacement is on-site and transitioned. Still, a milestone slipped past. Simultaneously put the wrap on physical therapy...the shoulder would seem to be about 95% now...maybe that's the best I'll get.
Now time to get serious about grinding some flash off the frame...the life of a bean-counter has done my physique no favors.
Healey
Last edited by healey36 on Sat Mar 14, 2015 7:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Northern weather
In the spirit of the moment, "Cheers", from Orangeville, to the whole d*mn lot of you.
Well spoken, Sarge- you have your own fine gift with words, and a fine eye and ear besides, and your sentiment snags deep within.
No geese up here yet, but when the chevrons go honking by, it never fails to bring me out of doors.
Well spoken, Sarge- you have your own fine gift with words, and a fine eye and ear besides, and your sentiment snags deep within.
No geese up here yet, but when the chevrons go honking by, it never fails to bring me out of doors.
Re: Northern weather
Rufus
You, Tramp and Pete have a gift of being able to put words down that can evoke memories and the feelings that go with them.
I, on the other hand, can remember a lot of stuff and put down the words but can not affect any persons thoughts the way you three can.
You, Tramp and Pete have a gift of being able to put words down that can evoke memories and the feelings that go with them.
I, on the other hand, can remember a lot of stuff and put down the words but can not affect any persons thoughts the way you three can.
roger
I support thread drift.
If God didn't want women to be looked at, He would have made 'em ugly. RAH
I support thread drift.
If God didn't want women to be looked at, He would have made 'em ugly. RAH
Re: Northern weather
Roger:
Don't sell yourself short.
How many lives do you think you've touched in your work?
You have brought us many thoughts to think, but you have also brought many people the joy of expression through music and unlocked that ability in many others over the years.
The trolley squeaks for thee!
Don't sell yourself short.
How many lives do you think you've touched in your work?
You have brought us many thoughts to think, but you have also brought many people the joy of expression through music and unlocked that ability in many others over the years.
The trolley squeaks for thee!
Re: Northern weather
The beauty of the world as we know it. Thanks, lads.
That a life will be spent gaining inches,
When this distance is read in miles.
When this distance is read in miles.
Re: Northern weather
"The trolley squeaks for thee" I would never have thought of. 
I would have said "Let's get a beer". The trolley squeaking brings forth a whole different picture that I can actually see.
I am sure you all know what I mean.
I would have said "Let's get a beer". The trolley squeaking brings forth a whole different picture that I can actually see.
I am sure you all know what I mean.
roger
I support thread drift.
If God didn't want women to be looked at, He would have made 'em ugly. RAH
I support thread drift.
If God didn't want women to be looked at, He would have made 'em ugly. RAH
Return to “The Club Car Lounge”
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 30 guests