Garden plots:
Bonfire burn-pile and chicken coop
Backyard crabapple:
Sun-spackled orchard:
Coolest old apple tree, fallen over (with new trees, including anniversary pear trees):
Orchard buzzing:
Monday, May 31, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
a high volume of calls
They always say on automated systems "We are currently experiencing a higher than normal call volume. Thank you for your patience." What a crock of shit. If it is always the case, then it is no longer an exception. False advertising, I say.
I'm on the phone with the DMV. I left my scooter on campus over the long weekend while I enjoyed the sunshine and primed nearly the entire house (with help from family and friends). I get in this morning, and the phone in the lab rings. It's a police officer. They found my scooter about 40 yards from campus behind a residential area, covered in leaves and sticks. Seems someone went to alot of trouble to steal my scooter, took the license plate and then ditched the shiny silver grey scooter in some old bitty's backyard.
This is all hilariously on-point, since late last week a visiting researcher commented "aren't you worried someone will steal your scooter?" and I was all "schmaa, no way. I'm the only one who drives a scooter around here. People would know it was mine". Which is probably why they stole the scooter, pushed it to the nearest wooded area, took the plate to put on a cooler albeit likely less-road-worthy motorbike and then ditched my identifiable vehicle.
DMV says I still need to pay $25 replacement fee for a new plate, even though my vehicle was stolen and the plate was taken by thieves. Way to screw over the victim, government. Jeez.
I'm on the phone with the DMV. I left my scooter on campus over the long weekend while I enjoyed the sunshine and primed nearly the entire house (with help from family and friends). I get in this morning, and the phone in the lab rings. It's a police officer. They found my scooter about 40 yards from campus behind a residential area, covered in leaves and sticks. Seems someone went to alot of trouble to steal my scooter, took the license plate and then ditched the shiny silver grey scooter in some old bitty's backyard.
This is all hilariously on-point, since late last week a visiting researcher commented "aren't you worried someone will steal your scooter?" and I was all "schmaa, no way. I'm the only one who drives a scooter around here. People would know it was mine". Which is probably why they stole the scooter, pushed it to the nearest wooded area, took the plate to put on a cooler albeit likely less-road-worthy motorbike and then ditched my identifiable vehicle.
DMV says I still need to pay $25 replacement fee for a new plate, even though my vehicle was stolen and the plate was taken by thieves. Way to screw over the victim, government. Jeez.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Su casa es mi casa
We have two Americans visiting the lab for protocol training. They came to the house for BBQ dinner last night, and we walked around the property and in the red mud of the Bay across the street. We had a bonfire under the stars and drank Canadian beer.
+
A friend is staying in the guest room over the next month or two, on and off, as she transitions into a new job and potentially a new locale. She loves gardening and can't wait to plant my veggie patch.
+
Another nice young lady is planning on moving her camper to our lot, since she is working up the street from our rural property at a bird sanctuary/wildlife interactive centre. She said she'd help paint the house if we would share our plumbing; the trade seems pretty fair. I bought primer today, and hubby picked up some staging on the weekend. We're all ready to go attack the house and turn it into a picturesque yellow farmhouse. I like the colour palette of this house, although it's locale is obviously much more tropical. But the warm yellow, cool grey-ish blue and bright white look sharp.
+
A friend is staying in the guest room over the next month or two, on and off, as she transitions into a new job and potentially a new locale. She loves gardening and can't wait to plant my veggie patch.
+
Another nice young lady is planning on moving her camper to our lot, since she is working up the street from our rural property at a bird sanctuary/wildlife interactive centre. She said she'd help paint the house if we would share our plumbing; the trade seems pretty fair. I bought primer today, and hubby picked up some staging on the weekend. We're all ready to go attack the house and turn it into a picturesque yellow farmhouse. I like the colour palette of this house, although it's locale is obviously much more tropical. But the warm yellow, cool grey-ish blue and bright white look sharp.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Dear Cajuns:
your plight breaks my heart.
As if creating an ever-widening, oxygen-free "dead zone" in the Gulf of Mexico as a result of fertilizer run-off down the Mississippi (that was only fixed by annual hurricane season) wasn't bad enough, as if a giant hurricane blowing apart the coast wasn't enough, now we have hundreds of thousands of barrels of oil spilling into the Gulf everyday.
I am saddened because the southern coast of the United States is where many of my Acadian ancestors relocated after being exiled in the mid-1700s. The culture of my past (ex: my grandmother's dialect or maiden name) is eerily familiar to what (once was?) present in Louisiana.
The first trip my mother ever took away from her small town was to New Orleans.
The oil spill is the last straw in a spiraling ecosystem. I suspect any thriving ocean life in the Gulf of Mexico will cease within my lifetime, and with it the natural abundance that sustained an amazing culture.
How sad.
As if creating an ever-widening, oxygen-free "dead zone" in the Gulf of Mexico as a result of fertilizer run-off down the Mississippi (that was only fixed by annual hurricane season) wasn't bad enough, as if a giant hurricane blowing apart the coast wasn't enough, now we have hundreds of thousands of barrels of oil spilling into the Gulf everyday.
I am saddened because the southern coast of the United States is where many of my Acadian ancestors relocated after being exiled in the mid-1700s. The culture of my past (ex: my grandmother's dialect or maiden name) is eerily familiar to what (once was?) present in Louisiana.
The first trip my mother ever took away from her small town was to New Orleans.
The oil spill is the last straw in a spiraling ecosystem. I suspect any thriving ocean life in the Gulf of Mexico will cease within my lifetime, and with it the natural abundance that sustained an amazing culture.
How sad.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
nomnom
Look! Yummy food I made myself:
Israeli couscous salad: couscous cooked in chicken stock combined with onions/zucchini/corn/pumpkin seeds roasted with garlic and sprinkled with chili powder. Mild pasta-alternative side dish that went with our basil-overloaded salmon.
Gluten-free almond flour cookies: Almond flour, butter, coconut, fair trade chocolate chips, local dried cranberries, raisins, some other yummy stuff.
Gluten-free strawberry-chocolate torte: Almond flour, crushed chocolate chips, local egg, local strawberry jam, cocoa. (This one went to a bake sale for the community garden. I made five mini-tortes but only four got out the door).
The rhubarb is coming up, so I'll need to prepare some for freezing while it's best. My food dehydrator arrived, and I tried some zucchini chips in it to test it out. Very happy with the results, and looking forward to cranberry season this year. It hurts my heart to walk out in the cranberry field and see how many we left behind last fall.
Last night we had some chicken soup and baguette from some home-made stuff my mom had given me (frozen). I thawed it out on the woodstove, and we heated it up there too. Hubby dragged in some lawnchairs from the fire pit, fetched the left-over bottle of red wine from Mother's Day, and threw a sheet over the sad little metal side table from the barn. Voila! Romantic dinner for two.
Israeli couscous salad: couscous cooked in chicken stock combined with onions/zucchini/corn/pumpkin seeds roasted with garlic and sprinkled with chili powder. Mild pasta-alternative side dish that went with our basil-overloaded salmon.
Gluten-free almond flour cookies: Almond flour, butter, coconut, fair trade chocolate chips, local dried cranberries, raisins, some other yummy stuff.
Gluten-free strawberry-chocolate torte: Almond flour, crushed chocolate chips, local egg, local strawberry jam, cocoa. (This one went to a bake sale for the community garden. I made five mini-tortes but only four got out the door).
The rhubarb is coming up, so I'll need to prepare some for freezing while it's best. My food dehydrator arrived, and I tried some zucchini chips in it to test it out. Very happy with the results, and looking forward to cranberry season this year. It hurts my heart to walk out in the cranberry field and see how many we left behind last fall.
Last night we had some chicken soup and baguette from some home-made stuff my mom had given me (frozen). I thawed it out on the woodstove, and we heated it up there too. Hubby dragged in some lawnchairs from the fire pit, fetched the left-over bottle of red wine from Mother's Day, and threw a sheet over the sad little metal side table from the barn. Voila! Romantic dinner for two.
Friday night wind-down
After an afternoon spent breaking sod to create a veggie patch (now my job-ugh) and mowing tall orchard grass with an antique lawnmower we found in the barn (that needed resuscitating), this is how we wound down. Picaroons brew and fire.
construction zone: proof
This is my hallway, with my doorframe on the right. At various times, there are multiple construction workers milling about, pounding noises coming from crushing concrete or unpleasant smells in the air (mostly cigarette smoke).
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
construction zone
The entire building where I work is undergoing retrofitting, and the art has all been removed from the walls/rooms have been emptied of contents/hallways have been sectioned off. All sorts of junk lines the corridor, and construction workers abound. We may or may not be kicked out of the building entirely next week, depending on the whims of faculty and architects (ie not me).
At home, it is much the same inside. I forgot to take photos, but the walls to the first three rooms are exposed and ready for insulation, wiring and plumbing. Our first order was to determine the real-life dimensions of our new kitchen, which previously had only existed on paper. Hubby did not like the outcome, so we may be tweaking that a bit in the following weeks. Thankfully, things are moving along outside. Spring clean-up/large garbage is going on this week in my village, so we hauled our share of garbage (actually, not our share. Someone else's share that they just left behind...).
This was stuff in the house or the workshop, we haven't touched the barn contents yet (which contains at least a few more mattresses and appliances that I can think of). The majority of it was carpet pieces, as it appears no occupant has ever thrown away carpet from that house in the last 5 decades. They just piled it up out back, in the shed that is attached to the house. This resulted in a weird strata of carpet remnants, with styles and colours dating their origin. Yuck.
Just beyond the garbage pile, at the other end of the driveway, are cheerier sights: daffodils and garlic sprouting next to the white picket fence.
Behind that is the garden plot I've laid out, whose sod must be uprooted and tilled. This is a big job, but my husband is a champ and is tackling it in sections.
Even my dog has gotten into the spring spirit, and went mucking around in the mud. She arrived home after dark with my husband, and it took a long bath to clean her of it.
At home, it is much the same inside. I forgot to take photos, but the walls to the first three rooms are exposed and ready for insulation, wiring and plumbing. Our first order was to determine the real-life dimensions of our new kitchen, which previously had only existed on paper. Hubby did not like the outcome, so we may be tweaking that a bit in the following weeks. Thankfully, things are moving along outside. Spring clean-up/large garbage is going on this week in my village, so we hauled our share of garbage (actually, not our share. Someone else's share that they just left behind...).
This was stuff in the house or the workshop, we haven't touched the barn contents yet (which contains at least a few more mattresses and appliances that I can think of). The majority of it was carpet pieces, as it appears no occupant has ever thrown away carpet from that house in the last 5 decades. They just piled it up out back, in the shed that is attached to the house. This resulted in a weird strata of carpet remnants, with styles and colours dating their origin. Yuck.
Just beyond the garbage pile, at the other end of the driveway, are cheerier sights: daffodils and garlic sprouting next to the white picket fence.
Behind that is the garden plot I've laid out, whose sod must be uprooted and tilled. This is a big job, but my husband is a champ and is tackling it in sections.
Even my dog has gotten into the spring spirit, and went mucking around in the mud. She arrived home after dark with my husband, and it took a long bath to clean her of it.
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