The Doggie Expo

Last week I went to the Doggie Expo in Halifax, a one-day fund-raiser in support of the Nova Scotia Greyhound Rescue Group.  The wonderful thing was the measly $2 entrance fee included your dog.  What a deal !

A dog models a scarfy, hoody, sorta thingy

Exhibitors were selling doggie hats, scarves, collars, leashes, toys, food and other paraphenalia.  Dog rescue groups, therapy dogs and dog trainers were also there to answer your questions.

http://www.novascotialostdognetwork.com/

 

Interestingly it wasn't the booths that garnered the most attention -- it was the other doggie visitors.  It was so much fun to wander around chatting with dogs owners, hearing about their dogs and enjoying the doggie interactions.



Rare Chinese Crested dogs. 


It was a good opportunity for Buffy to experience a new situation.   Kait had brought her dog Sooki and the two dogs reactions to the crowded exhibit hall were quite different.  While Sooki wagged her way through the throngs eagerly greeting two-leggers and four-leggers alike, Buffy found it all a bit overwhelming. 

Two pugs have their portrait taken.

It was the most fun I'd had for $2 in a very long time.

 

One of us was very  tired when we got home.

Be mine !

I had forgotten that Trey had sent his true love,  Remi,  a Valentine card until we received a "thank you" from Remi in today's email.

  

Trey and Remi

One of Remi's moms (Amy) took these marvellous pictures of Remi with his card.

For me ?



     



What flavour is it ?



I loves Trey.  I really does.

Look up ... look waaaaaaaaaaaay up

Look up.  Look up there.  See.  See.  Do you see it Sooki ?

See it ?  Buffy -- I can smell it.

Mom -- can we have it ?

Pleeeeeeze.

Oh good grief ! Dogs can be so dim.

Dreaming of spring ...

I love to garden, so a time when I cannot dig in -- or even see -- the earth, depresses me. 

Even non-gardeners suffer from the bleakness of short days and long nights in our northern winters.


Wendy in my last garden.

Now as the sun slowly begins its return, I cling to the memory of  summers past and yearn for the spring yet to come.

I dream of things I want to do with my garden.  Stone-lined paths I want to make.  Bird feeders, bird houses, an arbour, a new pond and a bridge top the list.

My last garden

I scroll through images of my last garden.  It was an open, unadorned grassed-yard when I moved in, but four years later it was loaded with perennials and meandering paths.  Four years -- but I was working full-time.  Now I'm retired,  I figure I can do it in three with my present yard.

Ponds, bench and paths in my last garden.

Feel free to time me.  Pull up a chair while you're waiting.

Last yard deck.

 

Falling out of my tree

I have boxes of family photos and memorabilia that travelled with me on my move from Ontario.  I always hoped when I retired that I'd start organizing them.  But I didn't.

However, looking at dad's love letters to mom (see my Valentine's Day post) got me feeling nostaligc and that feeling prompted me to haul those plastic boxes out from under my bed.

What treasures they contain !

My maternal grandma and grandpa
Bert and Sybil Tupman
February 8, 1915

Right now I'm feeling overwhelmed and regretful and excited.  Quite the emotional mix.  Overwhelmed -- because it's hard to know where to start.  Regretful -- because so many pictures hold images of people I can't identify.  I keep wanting to call mom to ask who these people are.  But mom died in 2007 and I didn't take the opportunity to talk to her about them while she was alive. 

And excited -- because I have started.

A lovely sketch by my grandpa, Bert Tupman, from his school-boy days circa 1907.

I don't know how to organize the information I am gathering.  There aren't just photos but six school sketch books of work by my granda Bert Tupman,  a piece of fretwork by his father, James and several birth, death and marriage certificates.



Grandpa Bert Tupman's birth certificate.


I know I want to do a  family tree.  Other family members have already collected some of this information and I need to assimilate that.  I thought I'd use  WORD to create the tree but that didn't work, then I switched to EXCEL but no luck there either.  Right now using small recipe cards to get a sense of who begat whom. 

I found this weathered newspaper artcle from 1925 about my Great grandfather leaving his stationmaster's job in Yeovil, Somerset.  With some difficulty I transcribed the article and saved it in WORD.

OMG !   I just realized something.

All this stuff just relates to the Tupman side of the family.  But there are three other sides to be sorted out!

I'm gonna need  more index cards !

A love story ...

Love is an amazing thing ! 

My British dad and my prairie-girl mom, met at her parent's Saskatoon dinner table.  Grandma invited soldiers who were billeted in the city, over for some home-cooked food.   A week or two after meeting,  mom and dad were engaged.

Not long after, Dad was shipped to Dorval, Quebec for further training.  During this time they exchanged letters until mom joined him there in May of 1942 -- just shy of her 20th birthday -- to marry him.

These are some of the many loving letters he sent her.

Dad decorated his letters with wonderful illustrations.  Sometimes he depicted "10 Lullaby Lane" -- their imaginary, cottage for two.

They adored each other.

She was down to earth, serious and practical.  He was a funny, artsy, dreamer. 

She grounded him and he made her laugh.

It's the laughter I remember most.   The laughter and the love. 

62 years of it.


Happy Valentine's Day.

Crazy mad for sticks !

Trey likes sticks.  Trey is crazy-mad for sticks. 



Trey thinks that THIS is a stick !



 Trey expects this human to throw sticks that are the size of logs. 

This human is sick of  trying to heave big sticks and being barked at incessantly.



Throw my stick.   Throw my stick !  THROW MY STICK !!!!



Sometimes this human gets so sick of the bark, bark, BARKING that she takes desperate action. 

Just yesterday she got so ticked off, she stuffed the dog's his stick down a hole. 

A big hole under a tree root.

And that made the dog very upset.

My stick.   My stick !  I WANT MY STICK !!!

Fine -- I'm going in after it.

Ha !   Got it !



Throw my stick. 

Throw my stick !  

THROW MY STICK !!!

Operators are standing by ...

I chatted with my friend Sandy today while we played an on-line game of double solitaire.

While we were playing, her dogs started to bark in the background, so I put my headset on Buffy to see what she'd make of the experience.  I'm not sure WHAT she made of it, but she listened to the barking intently.

Perhaps there was a language barrier as Sandy's dogs speak Golden Retriever and Buffy doesn't do well with accents.

A Snow Day at Last !

The trouble with being retired is that a "Snow Day" just isn't the same.   Sorta like weekends. 

Yesterday it snowed and snowed and snowed.  It was really quite impressive.  Roads were dangerous.  Schools, Universities and Libraries closed.    Worse still - the liquor store closed ! 

I shovelled the driveway twice and took the dogs  for a woodsy walk at the end of our street.


This is what it was like when we went for our walk.


Today, the driveway had to be shovelled yet again as the snow plough had been by and very effectively sealed us in with a wall of snow.  It was the most snow we'd had in Eastern Passage since we moved here.

The sun came out, the wind died down and the temperature rose -- so back into my woods we went.

This is the park at the end of the street. 
The path into the woods is off to the right.



The path down into the woods.

 The snow was almost knee deep.  The dogs "humped" their way along leaping in and out of the snow.  For Chandler it was tougher going.  As he's shorter than the others he just pushes his way along through the snow, doing his best to follow the paths made by me and the other dogs. 

Chandler.

The woods were lovely and peaceful. 

It was enough to almost make me like snow.  

 

I hope we have another lovely snowfall -- next year.

Winter white -- winter green ...

It is wonderful  in the middle of winter to see green things while out walking in my wood.

Green, green, green.  I'm giddy at the sight of it.  Green things defying the winter cold. 

In the midst of a carpet of crinkled dead leaves, snow and bare branches, vibrant moss thumbs its nose at winter.

Soft and pliable and not brittle or dry, moss lives on.   I'm not sure how "awake" it is but it's definitely not sleeping like so many other plants in the hibernating wood.   

And what of the tiny ferns that lurk in sheltered spots ?   Do they defy the cold too ?

Winter green.  Not just a great flavour but a sight for sore eyes.