Morning Lamb
Photo finalist in the Canadian Federation of Agriculture's 75th Anniversary Photo Contest

I hope all of you have had a fantastic Christmas and are preparing for the New Year with great anticipation and joy.

We had a great Christmas here and as usual I have a story to tell about it.

As the family grows larger (in physical size...I could never do the baby thing again!!LOL) and everyone has demands that must be met. One scare commodity is the computer. Apparently my family has decided that my time on this wretched machine far exceeds the families approved time lines and so for a present this year my family bought me my very own lap top.

Nothing fancy, just a basic piece of equipment that I can gleefully fill with my photos and paintings and write my stories on. Something I can take on my travels through out the house and beyond on my whim.

My whim apparently is very irritating to family members so with great joy to the receiver and from the givers my new lap top began the lengthy process of rebuilding. For those of you who know me or have read this blog you will all note that I am not the most computer literate person on the planet and my husband is quite adept at it. Most of the time.

He likes to install new hard drives and usually this results in lengthy durations where I have no contact with the outside world. A horrible fate for someone who has a set routine and can not fulfil it. In that way I am very much like The Big Bangs Sheldon. The world is not quite right if my routine is disrupted.

And so I puttered around the house Christmas morn as Dave installed program after program.

We had Christmas dinner complete with all the trimmings and had scented candles placed upon the table to add a festive air to the event. I went to the studio to work on several new commissions and several hours later returned to the kitchen to note an odd glow from my new laptop. Wondering what program could ever do that I sidestepped David as he raced to my side babbling about "the candles, the damn candles"

My screen had an odd configuration on it slightly resembling a lighted skull with rays coming from it. When I ventured to looked at the back I nearly suffered a stroke. The illumination on the screen was caused by a huge hole about 3 inches by 2 inches in my lap tops cover! David had left the never been touched by me laptop too near the candle and after several hours of inattendence it melted a gaping hole in it!! My new baby was now horribly mangled!!!

My children in the past , who have sat at the computer thoroughly focused on the screen totally oblivious to the outside world have missed the fire departments arrival at our home. I always wondered how a person could so totally tune out the world around them and I always wonder, always suspected which side of the gene pool THAT darling trait came from. It would appear it comes from the male side. As David had sat at the computer, as it melted away without once realizing this event was literally occurring under his nose!

And men wonder why women call men "Dumb asses!"

I will be the only person on the planet (including the Pope) who has an actual HOLY computer!

Happy Holidays Folks

Blue Bird of Happiness- Needle felted

Chickadees Hat and Mittens- Needle felted

"Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring except.. for the parents"

We are trying to finalize the great mans arrival and as par for the course, we are once again on a frantic search for "the" gift that was purchased with glee and hidden with hopes that it would not be found by the multiple little fingers that are linked to a curious mind.

I had hoped that we could avoid a repeat of past Christmas' that had a habit of continuous giving. You know what I am talking about, where you find gifts squirreled away only to be located during the summer months. Doesn't bode well for food stuffs or sledding equipment and trust me when I say there is no disappointment quite like that of a child who receives the ammo for his "special" Nerf gun but doesn't actually get the gun until August of the following year!

This year I made a pact with myself not to lose a single gift. I hid everything in plain sight with the knowledge that they would be easily accessible for prying minds but also easily found for aging ones as well! I also cut down on the amount of gifts and put a Nix on anything that required "assembly" or "batteries not included" gifts.

The plan was to remove those confused looks that pass between parents during the mornings festivities where each of you tries in vain to send mental images and discussion topics while looking like you planned the Barbie clothes to arrive without the Barbie! Searching through cluttered garages and crawling over rabbit hutches in a futile attempt to find the module that goes with that new xBox gets mighty embarrassing when you have an anxious audience.

I love Christmas!

A good story now. A true story.

I was at the bus station yesterday to mail of one last painting and as I stood in line awaiting my turn I watched the exchange between the clerk and the bus driver who was trying to explain why she was on the phone and not behind the wheel of her bus and travelling down the highway. I was listening half heartedly as my focus was drawn to the parked bus as a timid elderly woman slowly exited the vehicle. She looked confused and uncertain and lost.

"You'll wait? Great, I'm leaving right now."

The driver explained to her coworkers and the rest of us that an elderly passenger did not get off the bus in Antigonish (about 90 minutes away from us and the opposite direction she needed to be going in!) and was now in danger of missing any buses to get her to her final destination of Sydney. This woman bus driver was taking her over to New Glasgow to be able to catch a bus that would be waiting, courtesy of another kind person, so that she could make home before nightfall.

One last look at the frail older woman had me sending a silent prayer to God thanking him for the bus driver and her kindness. The cynical part of me that I do try to remove from my character wondered what would have become of this poor woman if the driver had of been callus and cold. Would she have been able to find lodging for the evening in a strange town as everyone bustled past her without regard for her plight?

This kind act had me becoming more aware of those around me. I smiled a bit brighter and wished the clerks through out the day a Merry Christmas not just because it was polite conversation but because I actually wished them good tidings. The response was wonderful.

And so I extend my warmest regards and hopes that you enjoy the Holiday season and all it has to offer. Perhaps the feeling of good will toward all men will stay with us all a Little bit longer than these few days in December. Maybe it won't get lost like my Christmas gifts.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year one and all!

Crystal Butterfly
(which promptly fell off the railing 1 second after this photo was taken thus proving that crystal butterflies can not fly and will become mangled when they hit the ground 15 feet below them!)

Crystal Angel

Crystal Christmas Ornaments

We are now beginning to feel the effects of a brutal Nor'easter here. The sheep and the horse are all hiding out in their sheds and Rex the rooster is learning that crowing in a wind storm leads to instant flight!

Poor Rex, being the rooster that he is in all his glory has become airborne several times already and being a typical stubborn males has decided that he can not take refuge in the shed until his quota of crowing has been filled. I am quite certain one of my neighbors will become the new owners of an aged Ameracauna Rooster! I imagine the scene will resemble that one in Twister where Helen Hunt sees a cow fly by their truck, only in our case it will be the truck driving school down the road witnessing Rex's first long haul flight!!

I am hoping the storm will be gentle on us. I love my concrete house. The only thing I usually hear in a storm like this is the sound of slapping shingles. It is a very horrid sound. There is no rhythm and it I swear it sounds like money. Money leaving my bank account as each and everyone hurtles to the ground in an effort to dent one of my vehicles! I have found the use of ear plugs to be very comforting in a case such as this.

I suppose we should be glad it is not 10 feet of snow!

The pictures today are of a recent project the kids and I have under taken. It has been great fun to create sculptures out of pipe cleaners and then let them soak in a solution of Borax and water where crystal form and the end result is fantastic. It is easy and your imagination is the only limiting factor.

Imagination is a great thing...unless you are the mother of an imaginative 11 year daughter. I was out one evening and when I returned a few hours later I was stunned to find my beautiful kitchen in complete disarray. I have a large kitchen. There are 40+ feet of counter space and each and every inch of it was covered in "stuff". Anna was bounding around like a kid on a sugar high busily writing out orders and placards informing people not to touch her experiments. :(

It seems she decided the Internet was a wondrous fount of information and one the should be utilized to its maximum. Not content with our earlier Borax creations she decided to see what else she could create crystals out of. It seems that all food stuffs are fair game. Sugar, salt and spices were all combined in various concoctions with food colouring and vinegar. The next day involved a long expensive visit to the grocery store.

Being 11 also means that clean up is NOT one of your required priorities. Creating a vast mess and coating every inch of Moms huge counter top ...do-able and DONE!

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So in true MOM fashion I lectured as I cleaned and taught Anna a new skill... multitasking. She can now clean and apologize at the same time!!

Merry Christmas Folks.

Charlie 7x5 Oil Portrait Sold

The Holiday season is now upon us and my kids are home for the holidays and buzzing around the house fueled by Christmas bonbons. Any attempts to get them to use this excess energy in a positive way ie doing laundry is as futile as Borg assimilation!

There are more social gatherings in these last two weeks than there have been for the rest of the year and the burst of activity has us all sleeping very well at night. The chance to visit and enjoy the company of new and old friends has been a blessing in more ways than one and I for one enjoy the relaxed atmosphere of this season as compared to other years.

The studio is hopping busy and I presently have 4 commissions in various stages of development propped up on easels and tables. They are all smaller in nature which makes them rather fun to play with as opposed to the larger canvas' which can be daunting in a tight time frame.

So between the Holiday festivities, herding sugar crazed kids to various events and refueling my 13 year old sons insatiable appetite with something half way nutritious I hope to hide out in my studio. Maybe I'll sneak an eggnog or two up with me!!

Happy Holidays to you and yours!

Roamin the Wildman 4x5 oil portrait SOLD

It is hard to believe it is so close the Christmas. Up until yesterday we still had a few die hard Rubeckia and Dandelions blooming on our property. Those who think global warming is not happening in Canada has not been on my property. I am still watering my animals out of the trough which has been going on since early March! I have had animals for over 25 years and this is the first time I have had almost 10 months of uninterrupted trough use.

It has been a blessing to my back but I see the effects on my animals and in my pastures. The sheep are prepared for cooler temps and their heavy wool fleeces has them in some discomfort. My pastures must be sectioned off earlier or else the animals will chew the vegetative growth to the root stocks and kill the plants.

For those of you who live in Northern climates look around and you'll see these effects however minor you perceive them and take note. You do not have to live in an island nation like the Maldives to be acutely aware of the impacts of our changing climates.

We built a ICF concrete house with solar in floor heating and south ward facing exterior that houses the best thermal windows money could buy. Sound excessive? Our construction people thought so. They claimed on more than one occasion that our home was excessive. I suppose if you think global warming will never affect you then yes this is true.

With the time of day heating rate installed and the thermal capacity of our home it is not uncommon to have the power go off for 6 or more hours and our home only loses 1 degree of temperature. When you compare the heating rates of our home which is 3600 square feet to a stick built home of 12oo square feet our electric bills (which includes heat) is less than theirs. Yet our ways are too expensive?

The sad fact about this is we did it without government support. While our federal and provincial governments tout that we should take environmental issue seriously , the programs they have in effect such as the Energuide and rating system is not programmed to handle newer houses such as ours. This is a grievous error on their part for there are almost 12 ICF homes in my immediate area but the government will only aid people in building traditional non efficient homes and the retro fit of heritage homes. Why is there an incentive for people who do not believe our actions are destroying the planet?

As I listen to the news this morning and heard of the newest price increase for gas all I could think of was the reason I built this home. While attending my mothers funeral I talked with many of her peers and they all remarked that they could not afford to heat their homes. They had resorted to closing off sections of their homes and layering their clothing to stay warm. I was so shaken by this that I told my husband that I do not want to be elderly or retired and unable to heat my home. Thus the ICF house with its "extreme" modifications. While my neighbors eat less and stop donating to charities in order to keep their families warm I will sit in warmth and wonderment at what it will take to change their attitudes towards this global issue.

Roamin 4X3 oil portrait SOLD

They say that people resemble their pets in appearance and temperament. I am not sure if I believe that. I sometimes prescribe to the belief that the animals choose you and you become the pet.

The painting above is of one such critter that became a part of my life by his family's choice and not mine. When we moved back to the Maritimes from Alberta we found ourselves in a small rural area with a collection of unique neighbors. The one next door to us welcomed us in and after a short conversation told us not to worry about the many and various assortments of feline wildlife in the area. They were his and he fed them. Don't worry he said I'll take care of them.

Other neighbors welcomed us and mentioned the cat issue with other words, and not all of them were so kind. Too bad you bought the house in the winter... in the summer you'll come to really appreciate all the cats! Much giggling was heard.

That summer we became quite aware of the extent of the cat issue. I clearly remember one summer evening where our family sat on the deck enjoying a BBQ, under close scrutiny of 32 cats. That number is fact as we had time to count them as they licked their furry lips in hopes of a flyaway morsel of food.

We adopted the live and let live philosophy. Kinda hard when the Toms use your hay for a litter box and even the horses won't sleep in its aromatic fibers but we decided ignorance of the issue was best. The cats were so feral many of them were only seen as earth coloured blurs and my horses and I became accustomed to the bolts of kitty streakers that usually ran between our legs. I have THE most bomb proof horses on the planet thanks to those finicky felines!

Late one August afternoon we arrived home and instantly noticed the lack of feline attendance. We had become accustomed to their presence on the steps and although one could never catch one we were slightly concerned at the lack of numbers.

Later that evening when I went out to close up the chickens I noticed one scrawny female nervously walking the deck. When I bent down in another futile attempt to get her to approach me I nearly fainted. The lower half of her jaw was partially missing. She yowled and sped off into the night. It was like she was telling me something bad had happened before she left.

In the days that followed my other neighbors told me the tale. One that was like a ritual. When the cat population got too high our "good neighbor" would load up his shotgun and practice population control. I was horrified. The problem was his in the making caused by his need to feed the wild cats. Having seen that female who survived I was incensed.

When she returned a week later, barely alive I couldn't help but feed the survivor. Soft canned food was all she could eat given her rearranged facial features and the next summer she gave birth to one female kitten. Jaws, as we called her promptly disappeared. Thus started the Fullerton Feline line of cats. Each year, a litter of kittens was born in the hay shed and of each litter only one female ever survived. We never knew why or how but as time grew on and my kids got faster each kitten would be captured, tamed and eventually adored. This went on for 7 years and when we moved from this community to our new location a small runt named "Kitten" came to.

We never fixed her as she was so small and misshapen that after 3 years and no pregnancy we assumed the line had come to an end without any human intervention. She lived in the barn with the horses and Max the dog and on really cold evenings she would totter off to the house to warm up by the stove. After a few hours she would sit patiently by the door and then return to the barn. We fed her and in return she tolerated us petting her. Decades of wild kitty succumbing to the charms of Purina and children.

On July 4 of the next summer what did we find in the hay but two small kittens. It appeared our belief that Kitten was sterile was erroneous. My kids quickly named the kittens in accordance to their temperament. Storm Cloud was a throw back to generations of wild kitty who deeply resented human interference. Roamin loved to wonder around people. As he grew older, Roamin would accompany me on my walks along the shore. My walks were frequently 3 or more kilometers long. I loved him like no other cat. His unique personality was a big as the ocean and when we built our new home he quickly became a favorite of the workers. He almost caused the death of one fellow as Roamin, true to his name, shocked a fellow working on the trusses. It was not a place one expected a cat to be but several times over the next couple of days we would come to the house to see Roamin proudly perched on the highest truss of our new roof.

Roamin visited neighbors and while we were gone during the day he would curl up at someone's house. He adored the attention...and the morsels! At 5pm he would be seen trotting across the lawn ready for his Fullerton Feast. Cloudy would usually lurk in the back of the garage hissing her dislike of Roamin and his antics. He ignored her. Roamin was the star.

As much as we loved our kitties we decided that they needed to be "fixed". We adored them but did not want a repeat of our last place. We were officially at two cats. Occasionally, Roamin had a friend visit him. Like most parents we were not too clear on whether or not his new friend was a good influence or not, but Roamin always made his rounds and always came home.

Late one summer evening my husband was driving his sister and her boyfriend back home after a trip to Greece. The next morning he woke me up and let me know that we had lost Roamin. David had found his and his friend's bodies on the nearby roadway. We had a proper burial and there were many tears shed.

Cloudy became the sole feline occupant of the house and in accordance of her new responsibilities became somewhat more tolerant of us. She stopped being so bitter and allowed herself to enjoy all the perks of being a "kept pet".

It has been two years since I lost Roamin and when a friend mentioned she was doing a basket for raffle to raise money for a Cat hospice she and her friend ran, I couldn't think of a better item to include than a portrait of my own little wild man Roamin. Maybe because of Roamin having me as his pet I have become more tolerant of folks trying to help animals. I can relate to all types of people and their compassion for those less fortunate. I make it a habit not to shoot anyone.

Maybe I am like my cat, a little wild and crazy and looking for my own truss to climb. I want to experience all life has to offer and when it gets cold outside one can usually find me curled up someplace warm and safe. So what do you think? Do we chose our pets or do they chose us?

Busy Bees

Three Trees SOLD

Times are hectic and the days just don't seem to have enough hours in them.

My daughter had a belated birthday party in which she and several friends wanted to go see the new Harry Potter installment. It is a great movie and highly enjoyable.

The experience of organizing such an event, not so much.

I went early in the week with plans to buy the tickets to ensure that we would actually gain entrance to the movie. Imagine showing up with a horde of preteens and being denied entrance due to lack of seating for all the bodies you arrived with. Not a pretty sight to imagine and one I planned to avoid. My first attempt had me wondering around an empty theatre hoping to find an employee to sell me said tickets. It was a rather creepy experience. All I found were janitors who told me to return in 3 hours when they were actually open. I wondered why they would leave their doors open if not to allow the public in. The cleaning crew looked at me like I needed a brain adjustment.

At 7pm I arrive with hubby in tow with plans to spend some money. I was greeted nicely by some sort of a student who assured me that I would want the actor package and as she scribbled my name on a sheet of paper in a tattered binder beside a movie that was decidedly NOT Harry Potter sent me on my way with assurances that "All would be fine." Yeah, right.

Apparently fine for a childless teenager is somewhat skewed from that of an organized, in control, busy 25 hours a day mother with a horde of kids on her tail. I arrived at the theatre at the aforementioned time with only 1/2 the children in tow as it had started to snow and I, like many other mothers out there had to drive into town very slowly because our "I'll get done sometime soon, don't worry dear " husbands neglected to watch the weather channel and learn that the form of precipitation arriving would be white and not wet. Our studded winter tires sat nicely piled in their plastic wrappers in the garage and NOT on our cars as requested. Men. Insert a snort of derision here.

So I tried to explain to John or George (but who really cares at this point) that I was here to collect my tickets and my reserved seating in the back row as my daughter with perfect eyesight had requested. I wore new contacts for the event hoping to be able to see most of it with some sort of clarity. One would think that a 50 foot high Ron Weasly would be hard to miss.

Seems that Jim or Jack or Bob had never worked the cash register before so he toddled of to ask for help. Instead of dragging a mentor with him to aid in taking our money he repeated this performance for us another three times. After 15 minutes of "trot the lobby" we are joined by another teenager and a manager who thank the Lord above is over 19. He nicely tell us that there has been a mistake and that our requested seating has been given to part of the legion of Harry Potter fans who arrived 2 hours ago.

"I couldn't really move them." Smile. "At least not forcibly." Bigger smile. Obviously a Crest white user.

My son has mentioned to me that when I am not pleased with people that I should not smile. It looks rather scary when I try to smile when I am very angry. I figured the steam exiting my ears would have been a clue that my smile was not really sincere but a Canadian attempt at civility.

"Yes you could." I replied, as sweetly as I could muster. "Move them I mean. We did have reservations placed on Tuesday. We were here first." It was true. Justice out ranks squatters rights.

The manager stopped smiling.

"You want me to move them?"

"You want me to sit in the front row?" I smiled again. Connor shook his head and turned away. Audible groaning was heard, from the multitudes of girls who had waited all week for this movie and from the manager who would have rather dealt with a saber tooth tiger that endure another feigned smile from me. The line behind us was growing exponentially.

He scurried away to make arrangements and a duo of teenagers took our food orders. The inept Carl or Chris tried to ring in our order.

The manager arrived and flustering said "How about 3/4 of the way up?"

My daughter and her friends jumped on that as Anna whispered something unkind about my "special" abilities.

Yep. I had succeeded in embarrassing her and her friends and paid good money to do it. Lucky me and on a Saturday as well!

The worst part... I never got my food. I guess those teenagers had not reached that section in their education where they could successfully add. I guess it really is true when they say math is a lost art form in our schools. I am the one who made multiple visits to the theatre, paid out my money to view a movie I would have normally waited to view on CD and I am the bad guy. Moms get no respect.

I accepted defeat and sat in the movie reveling in the vivid colours that can only be attained from putting in a new pair of contacts and the belief that my pants wouldn't be tighter when I left the movie.