Happy Anniversary to me !

Ten years ago, July 1, 2009 I retired from the work-a-day world.  

Back then I thought I'd be staying in Peterborough, Ontario to the end of my days; but circumstances changed and we moved to Nova Scotia.

Hindsight is always 20/20 and I know if I'd stayed in Peterborough I'd now be better off financially, but I offset that with the knowledge that my life in Nova Scotia has been rich in so many other ways.

I love this little province.  Ten months of the year I can go to a beach and have the place to myself.

My joys in life are centred on walks with my dogs, gardening, exploring, singing in various choirs and hanging with friends from here and away.

... oh I forgot to mention occasionally kayaking and camping.

 

Because of my lack of pictures inside my head and hence real memories, I'm so glad I have photos to help me "remember".

Roswell and Butters are gone but I cannot recall how long ago they died. 
They are pretty much gone from my mind.

  

I know it's been almost a year since sweet old Wendy died.  I know I  loved her but I cannot see her in my mind nor recall her touch.

I am learning to accept that I love them while they are here in the here and now, and after that it all gets rather vague.

So I will continue to make the most of each day and continue to find joy in the little things.

Wendy gets mail

A few weeks back after her disastrous encounter with the Porcupine and subsequent encounters with the vet, Sooki got a lovely "Get Well" card from my friend Cindy back in Ontario.

That's so sweet.  

A dog getting mail.

And then, last week, this came.

Wendy got mail !   A lovely note and a gift came from her friend, Margie, back in Ontario.   Wendy and Margie had a lovely afternoon together in Bear River a while back.

Like Dobby after he'd been presented with a sock, Wendy was thrilled with her gift.

Of course Trey had to get in on the act !

He seems to be wondering: "Does this make my head look fat?".

 It can be a bit depressing when your dogs get more mail than you do.   ;-)

November 11th.

The armistice that ended World War I was signed on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918.

Whether you call it Remembrance Day, Armistice Day, or Veteran's Day, many western countries set aside November 11th to remember those who fought and died, that you and I might live in peace.  I am not here to debate whether those wars were just, or true, or whether they happened for the right or wrong reasons.

I simply wish to acknowledge those who fought and died for a future they would never see, and pay tribute to that sacrifice with this famous Canadian poem:

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

      Between the crosses, row on row,

   That mark our place; and in the sky

   The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

   Loved and were loved, and now we lie

         In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

   The torch; be yours to hold it high.

   If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

         In Flanders fields.

Lieutenant Colonel, John McRae

Our friends at Wikipaedia tell us:

"McCrae fought in the second battle of Ypres in the Flanders region of Belgium where the German army launched one of the first chemical attacks in the history of war. They attacked the Canadian position with chlorine gas on April 22, 1915, but were unable to break through the Canadian line which held for over two weeks. In a letter written to his mother, McCrae described the battle as a "nightmare": "For seventeen days and seventeen nights none of us have had our clothes off, nor our boots even, except occasionally. In all that time while I was awake, gunfire and rifle fire never ceased for sixty seconds ..... And behind it all was the constant background of the sights of the dead, the wounded, the maimed, and a terrible anxiety lest the line should give way." Alexis Helmer, a close friend, was killed during the battle on May 2. McCrae performed the burial service himself, at which time he noted how poppies quickly grew around the graves of those who died at Ypres. The next day, he composed the poem while sitting in the back of an ambulance."

April 2nd, and I'm bundled in layers.

Pants. Over pants.  Winter coat.  Sweat shirt.  Ear muffs.  Scarf and gloves.
I should not be having to bundle like this for a walk in April.   But I had to, today for my walk at Hartlen Point.

But y'know what ?  It was worth it.
The dogs and I walked to the end of the path, down the hill and along the sheltered bay.

The winds along the cliffs made it really cold.  Along the bay it was much nicer.

So I hung out there for a while, throwing the ball, collecting shells,

and looking for interesting rocks.

The dogs love our walks at Hartlen.

Can you tell ?

Permit me to dream.

Like many other northern clime dwellers, I'm sick-to-death of winter.

I am in need of some intensive warm weather therapy.

My side yard in its lush phase.

I yearn to be out digging in the dirt: working in my yard.

My garden in late summer.

Perhaps tomorrow I'll go out and collect smooth beach rocks to add to my dry river bed.

I hope the frog that lives in my bigger pond survives his hibernation.

Over the course of last summer all  the frogs but one, left.

I know the fish are OK as I've seen them.

I wonder if the salamanders hibernated under the bridge between the ponds ?

The temperatures are due to slowly start rising this week.

Like I said, I can't wait for it all to thaw so I can dig in the dirt.

How 'bout you ?