Though it's far from the end!

Today is the 26th anniversary of the day I met my husband, as I
mentioned yesterday. July 27, 1980, was a sunny Sunday for a teenage
pool party on a farm in rural southern Ontario. It was fun, and I left
with a growing sense that I'd met someone pretty nifty who'd be worth
getting to know better.

We were together in one form or another for four years... different
highschools meant we didn't see each other as much as we would have
liked. We went to the same university and both bombed our first years
royally for different reasons... so we broke up at the end of that
disaster.

Dave went to college and became an illustrator. He met a girl, and I
lost track of him, I thought. I went back to school, had a skirmish
with cancer, got married and divorced, met someone else... time passed.

In September 2003, I was sitting in my home office going over some
paperwork when an instant-message popped up on my screen. "Hello, old
girl" it said. I didn't recognize the user name. Sometimes I just block
random chatters, but this one was intriguing, so I typed back, "Not
many people get to call me "old girl"! Better tell me who you are."

Needless to say, it was Dave. I was mildly interested to hear from him
-- certainly not bowled over. So much time had passed! But it was neat
to know he was out there getting on with life. We got caught up a bit
over the next couple of weeks. I discovered that he had been single for
over five years, and that he owned his own home about 60 km from where
I was sitting. He was a freelancer working from his basement, mostly
for educational publishers. Nice stuff to know. Eventually I called him
and we had a pleasant conversation.

The idea, when it came, of getting together for lunch didn't trouble me
as much as it might have bothered some people in my position. True, at
that time I was in a relationship of over eight years' duration. It
wasn't a great source of happiness, but it had withstood the test of
time, and I assumed it was permanent. However, I had other exes who
were friends -- my ex-husband himself was a frequent visitor, and I
often socialized with other men I'd once dated with no problems at all.
So I agreed to get together.

I guess I don't need to say that this time it was very different. I
found I was with someone who was positive, friendly, warm-hearted, and
engaged with life. His only idea, when he thought of contacting me, was
that I might help him meet some new friends, because he was feeling a
bit lonely in his solo life. But after a single lunch, I compared him
with my then-current partner in the privacy of my mind, and realized
that I was in big trouble. The guy I was with suddenly seemed, by
contrast, remote, manipulative, verbally abusive. Well, I had always
seen those things in him -- but I was amazed about the extent to which
these traits had come to seem normal and acceptable, when in fact no
one should have to tolerate such things in a relationship, should they?

It took me only a few weeks to decide, to my shock and amazement, that
I'd be better off with Dave. I didn't like to be in that uncertain
position, and I am glad it was short. It was quite an upheaval in my
life, and I certainly had moments of uncertainty and guilt. But I did
the right thing, and on August 14, Dave and I will celebrate our first
year of a very happy marriage.

I'll leave you with the words of our favourite song, one that we love
as much now as when we were kids, especially the live version.

You ask me if there'll come a time


When I grow tired of you


Never my love


Never my love

You wonder if this heart of mine


Will lose its desire for you


Never my love


Never my love

What makes you think love will end


When you know that my whole life depends


On you (on you)

Never my love


Never my love

You say you fear I'll change my mind


And I won't require you


Never my love


Never my love

How can you think love will end


When I've asked you to spend your whole life


With me (with me, with me)

Have a great day, all.

They're digging up my road to re-line the water pipes. Right now my
driveway is blocked and my substitute water (from a hose thing) is
spluttering. Interesting to watch, though. I enjoy peering into the
depths of the little constructoids they dig to find the pipes. I'm an
archaeologist in a parallel universe, I'm sure.

Tomorrow, my husband and I will have known each other for 26 years,
although we have been married for less than a year! In 1980,
15-year-old me attended a swimming party at a friend's house and was
introduced to 16-year-old Dave by a mutual friend. After the swim, I
sat next to him on a sofa in the basement and got acquainted. He seemed
shy, smart, awkward, creative, funny. We lived about 30 minutes' drive
apart, we discovered, along the Welland Canal (he in Thorold, me in
Welland, Ontario), and in those days it was a long-distance telephone
call as well. So we resolved to write to each other, and once a week he
would come to see me on his moped.

This resolution resulted in a huge bundle of letters, drawings, and
postcards that I kept long after he and I broke up in 1984. When we got
back together, in 2003, we admitted to each other that we'd finally
thrown out that correspondence, each certain, after almost two decades,
that we'd never see the other again.

On my kitchen wall, though, in a frame, is a single yellow envelope
which survives from that time. Dave used it as a sleeve for a 45-rpm
vinyl single record for many years, so it didn't get tossed with the
others. In my girlish hand, it is addressed to Dave, with my parents'
address for the return. Letters cost 17 cents to send at that time. It
is postmarked August 8, 1980, only 12 days after Dave and I met.

A sentimental souvenir.

You know when you see something that looks incredible, but you just can't capture the same effect on film?

I guess the quest to become a decent photographer is lifelong. Anyway,
I thought I'd post a picture, as much for myself as anyone else, of an
almost-complete rainbow we observed around the sun one evening while
camping. I add this to the pictures below as an "almost-ran," since
what was dramatic in person proved quite elusive on film. Maybe you can
see it!

Those of you I've visited so far seem to be having great summers. I'm
looking forward to getting caught up with the rest of you!

I
apologize for the earlier absence of photos from this post, which is
now corrected. I hope you enjoy this excursion to the Great (Green) North!

Sooo many photos... soooo little time! Well...


I have just finished unpacking from a fabulous, romantic canoe expedition to
the Georgian Bay area of Northern Ontario. We camped for a week on our
very own private, rugged island and had the time of our lives. There
was only one apocalyptic thunder storm that threatened to wash us off
the face of the earth, and it failed (narrowly). Bugs were only audible
as a general all-pervading hummmm-mmmm-mm between about sunset and midnight. Otherwise, I was in paradise and can't wait to return. Here are a few pics from the 336 we took during the trip. What shutterbugs we are!

As usual, click on any photo to view a larger version.

The Expeditionary Force

Yes, this is the man who can (easily!)
pack an entire lavish wilderness-week-for-two into the middle of a
16-foot canoe. No wonder he looks smug. My hero! He took incredible
care of me.

In this view, you are peeking out to our island's canoe parking area
from within the cool and leafy depths of the lovely campsite.

Housekeeping
Here is our little home away from home.

Our large cooler kept things frozen until five
days into the trip! It contained, at the bottom, a large amount of dry
ice (yep, that's frozen carbon dioxide). Dave additionally insulated
this with a layer of ziplock bags full of water ice, and covered the
whole with a mat of blue foam. Anything above the foam was
refrigerated; anything below it was in the deep freeze.

Here you can see both food barrels and our cooler ready to hoist far
into the air between two trees. We did this every night to ensure a
bear-free vacation. I am glad to say that it worked!

Here is our nifty-difty ceramic water filter.

We pumped river water
through this, removing all impurities. The result was instantly fit to
drink! Okay, it didn't taste great. It tasted like pine tea, since that
was mostly what it was. So we brought along the Tang. What can I say.

Food
This photograph proves that my husband can bake bread in camp – he
produced two loaves of delicious blueberry bread from within a lidded
wok set over a hot fire.

(Blueberries were available in their bazillions
all over our island.) The loaves were baked in aluminum tins on a thin
bed of sand so as to avoid burning. I was duly impressed.

I countered by grilling two entire Cornish game hens, basted with a
garlic, rosemary and thyme-infused olive oil, serving them with herbed
roast potato wedges and garlic bread. My husband was duly impressed.

Let's face it, we ate like kings. Filet mignon, spicy veggie stir fry,
cheesy polenta with prosciutto in tomato sauce, the list goes on. And I
love how quite nice wines are packed in boxes nowadays!

Wildlife
I am proud to display this photo of a gorgeous Mourning Cloak butterfly (Nymphalis Antiopa)
perched fetchingly on my paddling gloves.

We couldn’t photograph most
of our encounters with wildlife for fear of frightening the little guys
away, but this beautiful creature was very brave. Or possibly oblivious. Splendid, in either case.

Dave encountered a little six-inch gar pike
in the shallows near the shore one hot afternoon. He was terrorizing a
cloud of tiny minnows that hovered nearby. The pike, that is. Not Dave.
Well, not intentionally, anyway. But maybe. Hmm.

One morning we got up early and found a rocky ledge from which to
survey our domain, mugs of hot tea in hand. A cute little reddish-brown
mink
hesitated only a moment before sauntering right across the rock, under
both our chairs, and proceeding on his morning rounds. He put his
little foot right on my boot! We were tickled all day.

Birds we encountered included a golden eagle, blue heron, turkey vulture, various ducks including a small group of common mergansers, a common loon, and a wee ruby-throated hummingbird who visited our camp at least once every day.

Also, here are the well-known Dusk-Trolling Fishermen, captured using
our amateur telephoto lens (better known as the binoculars).

Below the surface, I'm sure the pickerel were afraid. Very afraid.

Scenery
Brilliant
sunsets (sometimes with encircling rainbows). Rocks. Inspiration.
Peace. Quiet. You could hear birds' wings wuff-wuffing as they flew
overhead.

What can I say. Speechless with sense of wellbeing. Perfect. Going again
soooooon.

Actually -- somebody buy me this nearby cottage so I can go live there permanently!

I'll get caught up with you all soon as I can. Cheers!

I'm back. I'm tired. I'm sleepy. I'm gonna post tomorrow (well, later today) with some news about my GREAT trip!

*goes off to luxuriate on REAL mattress after REAL shower in REAL bathroom!*

I'll be gone for at least a week, contemplating the wilds of Georgian
Bay (that's part of Lake Huron for those non-Great-Lakes people!). I
hope your week is full of fun, and that you will document this fun on
your Xanga for my edification upon my return.

I love camping! Whee!

Always open to new positive experiences, I have spent several hours perusing the contents of Cute Overload, a site which lives up to its name, let me tell you! Don't even bother to prepare yourself, for I have located the Cutest (Non-Grandchild) Photo Ever:

Let's hear it: AWWWW!!! That's right! Truly staggering, head-exploding CUTENESS! OMG SO CUTE. Check out the beady eyes. The tiny paws. The sheer eensy-weensy floofiness. *general hysteria*

The site claims that proper deployment of this photo could bring about instant world peace. If used properly, they add, it may even cure cancer. I am powerless to doubt this claim.

I recommend starting with a review of the "Pups" section. Take along a
buddy in case you hyperventilate and fall over. If you experience no
cranial implosions during "Pups," you may well survive anything this
site has to offer. Along the way, you will also learn new vocabulary,
including "muzzlepuffs," "snorgle," and "kronche." You will come to
understand the official Rules of Cuteness, and you can even sign up for
daily cuteness deliveries to your very own inbox. *sigh of bliss*

What?! That other photo didn't
totally reboot your world? Are you human?! Well, here's another one.
Resistance is FUTILE, says the foundling fawn to the resigned ridgeback!

Later edit:
Looks like we're heading out tomorrow morning early, if the truck's
clutch decides to continue correct function. You can bet I'll be taking
heaps of great photos of the Georgian Bay area from my canoe for
everyone's later enjoyment. Cheers to all!

Some of you enjoyed a photo I posted yesterday of Dave canoeing at dawn. How many of you remember that I sent away to have this photo turned into a paint-by-numbers gift for my husband a couple of years ago?

[Later edit:
If you click on the highlighted words above, you'll go to the best site
I've found for making these kits. You can transmit the photo
electronically if you wish, and they will send you the printed canvas
and paints. I was very pleased with their service. Of course, if you
just can't bear the deferred gratification, there's always this site instead!]

Here's the photo again, for comparison purposes.

And here's the paint-by-numbers after a few hours of fun!

It was a HUGE
giggle to give such a thing to my professional artist husband, and
since our home was built in 1950, it fits right in - I felt I just had
to have one around the place!

[Later edit: I
nominated two of my own photos, and one weblog entry, for this boost
thing... I'm not quite the biggest egomaniac ever - in fact, I don't
think you ought to be able to nominate your own things - but I'm trying
to learn all about how it works. So far, I think it needs more work. They'll have quite a job wading through my feedback! ]

On Wednesday, Dave and I are going to canoe and camp on the French
River for several days. We’ll mostly be in the area near the mouth of
the river, where it meets Lake Huron.

Dave is a veteran of many such expeditions. I am a neophyte, and I’ll
be happy to spend some time in an area that has been the subject of so
many great anecdotes I’ve heard over the years. Mind you, the one about the bear concerns me a bit.

I have had several new experiences already. For example, we own a food
dehydrator,
and we have made tomato-sauce leather for our trip. Of
course, anything without water in it is much lighter to carry, and
tomato sauce rehydrates easily and tastes much the same as it did
before it was dried, according to Dave. To me, it looks a bit like a
sheet of melted dark-red crayon, but I am carefully maintaining an open
mind on this point.

Three of Dave’s many canoeing pics from past years:

Here is a drawing I made for Dave. When I coloured it in, it turned out to be about canoeing.

You can make a drawing like this (or even turn it into a game with your kids) by following these rules:

1. Put several randomly spaced dots on a piece of paper.
2. Connect two dots and put a new dot somewhere along the line you have just drawn.
3. Repeat step two as often as you can, or alternate with another person. Restrictions:
• You cannot cross lines you have already made.
• You cannot have more than three lines coming from
  a dot. (Note: the “new dot” from step #2 has two lines coming from it
  already.)
4. Your drawing is done when you cannot follow step #3, with its restrictions, any more.
5. Colour in your new drawing if you like!

This is a creative little game for those restaurants where they put a big
sheet of paper on the table and give you some crayons to pass the time
until the food arrives.

Dave wrote a poem about my drawing. He does not write poems very often, so I treasure this one.

Have yourself a good day.

False swans

True swans

Swan Take

Swan Fake (or try here)

Swan Lake (or try here)

Love the Wild Swan
by Robinson Jeffers (1887-1962)

    "I hate my verses, every line, every word.

    Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try

    One grass-blade's curve, or the throat of one bird

    That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky.

    Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch

    One color, one glinting flash, of the splendor of things.

    Unlucky hunter, Oh bullets of wax,

    The lion beauty, the wild-swan wings, the storm of the wings."
    - This wild swan of a world is no hunter's game.
    Better bullets than yours would miss the white breast,
    Better mirrors than yours would crack in the flame.
    Does it matter whether you hate your...self? At least
    Love your eyes that can see, your mind that can
    Hear the music, the thunder of the wings. Love the wild swan.