Walking Thru Wortley Village.

I hit the sidewalk at 7:15 p.m. and headed north, bound for Gibbons Park for the fourth time this week. Would the day end with a good view, a bright sunset, twenty goslings chasing my sneakers?

"a bright sunset" over Tecumseh Park

I completed a familiar five-mile 'walkn loop' just before 9 and caught a couple of pleasant scenes along the way, in my opinion.

"Just before 9"

 "twenty goslings chasing my sneakers?"

 Looking east, "with a good view"

5 minutes from my front door

Keep on walkn.

Please link to Overheard in Port Bruce.

Photos GH

My Afternoon Walk - Odd Tree

Pod Tree?

This tree stands tall on Cathcart Street, London, about one block south of my house. I call it 'the pod tree' because hundreds of foot-long seed pods can be seen at the ends of branches.

It is certainly stately, perhaps rare.

Can you identify it for me? You're only half-right if you say it's Brian's tree because I think he moved away.

Link to My Afternoon Walk

Photos GH

My Afternoon Walk - Huge Spruces

Eye Popping

 ["Hey, I recognize that birdhouse, though covered w snow"]

Walk, walk, walk. We're keeping at it and by 2018 my walking mate and I will truly see the results.

Just to let you know: There are some incredible spruce trees on Iroquois Avenue in Old South London, both east and west of Cathcart Street.

They are very tall with broad trunks. And some of the lower branches are eye-poppingly huge and strong.

Link to My Afternoon Walk

Photos GH

I Wood be a Tree

If I Could

'A wee poem' inspired by events concerning a Poet-Tree box recently

attached to, then removed from (by City decree), a tree in Old South 

If I could I wood be a tree, perhaps a giant red wood

And live 1,000 years, with my head in the clouds.

If not a red wood then something rarer still

Like a coniferiduous or deciduonifer,

With both leaves and needles side by each,

Be green year round and laden with chestnuts.

I would welcome adventurous climbers,

Boys and girls on a swing,

Friends seeking shelter

And birds on the wing.

I would sing with the wind, always in tune,

Reach to the sun and howl with the moon.

I would act as a signpost, point east and west

Lend a hand to a gardener and squirrels in a nest.

I would act as a home for birds in a box,

Take a nail for a poem, hold a line for wet socks.

Really, if I could I wood be a tree,

Perhaps a giant red wood

Or something rarer still.

gah

Link to more Poetry and Prose

Photos by GH

My Morning Walk

Wayward Man Heads East Again

My last post concerning 'my morning walk' mentions a trip to the east coast of Canada in June of this year. I got back from Halifax and started into the walking routine again. And I'm still walking, this time in preparation for another trip - this time farther east, all the way to Scotland.

During yesterday's walk around Old South I spotted a small but very pretty porch. I took pictures from three angles because I wanted to see what I was working with, i.e., the amount of space available for a custom mailbox, now on order for Christmas.

So, off I go to Scotland, and upon my return I will continue my walks and busy times in the workshop. Orders aren't piled to the roof but I think I'll be busy 'til Christmas Eve.

Morning walks will be easy in the winter time because I wear hiking boots in the shop to keep my feet warm. I'll just shovel a path through the snow to my back gate... and away we go!

Link to My Morning Walk

Photos GH

Gord's Journal

A Good Time

re August 24: A jolly good time was had by all at Jazz Fest in Wortley Village. A rocking trio could be found in the housewares department at Home Hardware and Soul Sausage played to a rapt audience outside the local garage.

More groups of musicians dotted the happy landscape. It was definitely a toe-tappin' day.

Link to Gord's Journal

Photos GH

The Workshop

Last Batch for the Green (2)

The Gathering on the Green is celebrating a significant anniversary on Saturday and visitors (some carrying cold drinks and $1 hot dogs), entertainers and crafters from around the world will gather behind the old Normal School in Wortley Village under sunny skies.

For the 5th or 6th year (maybe longer) I'll be there behind a table happily serving up sturdy birdhouses made from new and rescued lumber and - starting at about 2 p.m. - hoping my feet hold out 'til five.

Drop by. Bring refreshments!

Link to The Workshop

Photos by GH

London Weather: “Don’t look up”

Gray. Wet. Windy.

If you look up your lens will get drippy. A good day to putter.

Photos by GH

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If you’re relaxing on a sunny beach, let me know.

Please click here for more London photos

Small House: “They sell quickly in Old South, London”

One of my favourite sayings: Buy a small house or apartment near a bus route.

I should add, “Move quickly when one comes up in Wortley Village.”

 [8 Cathcart Street, across from Posno Flowers]

[Thirty steps away from a bus stop. Cool.]

It may have sold quickly because of price, location, size, the shrinking economy, or easy maintenance features. Or all of the above. Gone in a week.

[Photos by G.Harrison]

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Please click here for more from This Old Economist

Is winter here to stay?

On the first day of winter so cold I feel the need to put on longjohns you’ll find me a very happy man - for more than one reason.

First. I get to wear my old red longjohns and experience a special feeling, i.e., after owning them for about a dozen years, I’m finally feeling I’m getting my money’s worth.


["Fresh snow stays longer upon the rooftops": photos GH]

Second. The cold weather that drives me to put on a second layer might also allow the snow to stay on the ground and upon rooftops, tree branches and fence posts and railings.


["My walk to the Roaster is a squeaky event"]

When the snow piles up in the backyard I tend to cut back on my hours in the workshop and increase hours on other pursuits.

I’ll read, write, draw, think and stay a bit longer in a snug corner of a local coffee shop. Winter is a time to hibernate, after all.

Once Christmas is over, hear me snore!

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Please click here for information about one winter time project I am enjoying each day.

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Zoom w a View: Wortley Village windows

No one has yelled at me yet for snapping pictures of their front windows or doors on my way to my local coffee shop.

Maybe the home owners were still in bed this morning when I walked by or I was gone before they figured out what I was doing.

What would I say if someone shook their finger at me or I was pulled over by the coppers?


“What book is the young boy reading? And is it a young boy or girl?”


“Aren’t those doors the loveliest you’ve ever seen? And are the curtains crocheted or knitted?”


“I think crocheted curtains are almost a lost art. You?”

[Photos by GH]

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Please click here for more Zoom w a View.

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Zoom w a View: Apricot blossoms blossoming

My small corner of Canada is cool and wet (again) today. But the weather, though frustrating (I’d get blown off my motorcycle today), hasn’t stopped my apricot tree from bursting at the seams.

From the front porch, the tree looks like a few snowflakes have survived the rain.




From under the tree’s loaded branches, it looks like one million blooms are but a step away from filling my front yard with a pure white greeting.






I’d appreciate just one sunny day!

Photos by GH

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Please click here for more Zoom w a View.

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Morning Vignettes PT 4 at The Little Red Roaster

Just before my wife and I left The Roaster this morning (and after miles of interesting conversation), I got up from my chair to steal a refill of dark roast.

As I walked behind the counter I said to Karen, a girl on staff, “Don’t worry about me. I’m just stealing coffee.”

And so began my second conversation of the morning that included the word ‘smarmy.’

While filling up my large mug, and just before throwing loose change into the tip jar, I turned toward Karen and asked, “Have you heard of the word ‘smarmy?’”

“Sure,” she said.

“What does it mean to you,” I asked.

Her nose wrinkled almost right away and I thought she was going to refer to fish guts, but she mentioned a few other ideas.

We agreed upon ‘too familiar’ and a ‘little too close for comfort,’ and she finished with ‘like a weasel.’

“Yes, weasel,” I said, right away.

I have used ‘weasel’ for many years and there were times when it certainly meant smarmy.

Most of the times in the past, however, particularly when talking with elementary students, I tried to convey a positive tone with the word weasel, as in, sure, you can borrow my tape dispenser, but bring it right back, you little weasel.


[“Not all weasels are bad guys”: photo link here]

I’m pretty sure most of the kids took it the way it was intended.

Ten per cent of the time one would reply, I’m not the weasel. You’re the weasel.

And I never flinched. I realized I had a winner.

Sorry, I digress.

Because Karen and I seemed to be on the same page with the meaning of smarmy, I thought I’d give another idea a test drive.

I said, “Would you say that some people - people who come across as too familiar with you - have got a touch of the smarm?”

“Oh, definitely,” she said.

Refill in hand, I returned to my seat for my coat, glad that Karen and I had had that little chat.

Good coffee. Stirring conversation. Easy, breezy human contact. Free refill. Right with the world and some strange words.

Not a bad morning.

[End of Scene 4 and Morning Vignettes.]

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Where did smarmy come from?

For more about my history with the word, please click here.

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Morning Vignettes PT 1 at The Little Red Roaster

I slept like a rock last night (maybe had something to do with my 40 mile ride on the exercise bike while reading ‘song for the blue ocean’ before going to bed) and woke up bleary eyed.

As I washed the blear out of my eyes my wife asked if I wanted to go the The Roaster for coffee.

“Sure,” I croaked.

The morning air must have been extra crispy because by the time we reached the coffee shop I felt somewhat alive, even energetic.

I heard two men with familiar faces talking about not having small bills to break a twenty as I squeezed into a nearby chair.

I reached for my wallet and said, “I think I can help.”

I pulled out two old fivers and a brand new ten dollar bill.

As I initiated the trade I said, “The ten just came off the clothesline this morning.”


["Thanksh for the coffee, Babe."]

One smiled, took the money, fingered the ten, handed me the twenty and said, “Feels and smells fresh.”

I knew I had a growing audience at the time so replied, “Right out of the laundry room.”

I sat down a satisfied man.

Coffee. My wife paid. Easy human contact. I established an old standard counterfeiting scenario.

And scored perfect timing with the last line as I slipped my behind into a comfy chair.

I shoulda been in movies.

[End of Scene 1.]

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More ‘fine art’ here.

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I want one of Grandpa’s ties for Christmas? Gaaahh!

The ties, perhaps once belonging to someone’s grandpa, are displayed in a shop window in Wortley Village, London.

They are on sale - $5 each.


["Buy your own well-worn tie today at The Art Gallery": photo GH]

Yesterday, after I saw them, I had to ask myself, is that what I want for Christmas?

They’re priced about right (You can’t get good polyester anymore!) but I think I owned ties just like a dozen of them years ago - and definitely don’t want them back.

They remind me of my teaching days. My pulse is starting to quicken. I feel like I’m strangling! Gaaahh!

Now, if you could find me a t-shirt from the 1960s, that would be a different story.

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More Zoom w a View here.

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Young fireman trades helmets with a Viking

Grandson Ollie stayed for his first over-nighter this weekend (at least the first one he can remember and talk and talk and talk about) and came with more outfits that Mr. Carter has pills.

His fireman outfit, including black helmet, was well received at a local coffee shop on Saturday, but his Viking helmet created a greater stir this morning.


[“That is one great hat, Ollie”: photos GH]

I want one myself.

So does Kirby.

“I would wear it all the time,” he said.


[“Even one of a million local squirrels was impressed”]

I’ll look for adult sizes. But where?

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If you know, drop me a line.

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Zoom w a View: Getting ready for a Canadian winter

Our house is draft free - as long as I keep the front door closed tightly. And put a towel across the bottom. And close all the windows.


["Can you see the hole under the painted trim?": photos GH]

Canadian winter is on the way and should arrive in Wortley Village about 3 weeks after Christmas.


["While viewing photos, hum the William Tell Overture"]

Local squirrels will be ready for it.

While at The Little Red Roaster this morning, I saw a black squirrel make several trips across a nearby roof top with leaves in its mouth.


["The squirrel enters the hole, deposits the leaves, scoots off for more"]

I put down my coffee - I don't do that for any little thing - and snapped a few shots.


["What TV show opened with the William Tell overture?"]

If I was half as industrious, my attic would have more insulation and the front door would be weather-stripped to the nines.

Yeah, yeah, I'll think about it - after a refill.

***

Do you know what TV show opened with the William Tell overture?

Please click here for more exciting news about local squirrels.

Also, ever heard of Brunswick Stew?

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Bird Watching: A host of sparrows - by the dozen

Again, the sparrows arrived at my bird feeders this morning in a mob.


["A gaggle of geese? A murder of crows?"]

There were too many to count.


Last fall I waited for a few weeks for birds to find my feeders. Now I wonder how soon I’ll have to buy another bag of mix.

According to ‘opundo’ by R. Sutcliffe, a mob of sparrows is actually called a host. Trust me to gaggle on a word or murder it.

Three pairs of juncos (a congregation, volary, dissimulation or parcel) arrived later and found the seed on the ground.


["Junco says - What you lookin' at?": photos GH]

I thought, hey, a parcel has arrived.

No I didn’t. Just kidding.

I called them an even half dozen.

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More bird watching here.

A chain of bobolinks, perhaps?

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Morning Walk: A patch of colour in Wortley Village

My teeth are now shining like a new dime.

And after the early morning trip to my dentist, I took a short walk to not only show them off (oh, how they shone!) but snap a photo of a Hallowe’en gravestone on a lawn next to Posno’s Flowers.

(I did. And it’s now featured here.)


As I crossed Elmwood on the return walk I noticed a flash of colour to my right.


I turned and pulled the camera agin from my pocket. (Agin is the correct spelling while listening to Madison Violet on CD).




What have we got here on the boulevard? I wondered.


["Photos by GH on Elmwood Ave., Wortley Village"]

Decorative cabbages and asters?

I’m no expert. You tell me.

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