Dirty-ish Work

Yesterday I had an ocular migraine, which is a nerve/retina sensitivity that causes your vision to blot, blur, and ultimately move back and fourth sideways, causing its recipient such joys as feeling as though she has taken ACID. Earlier this morning while walking the dog, I almost got hit by a truck. I screamed
'Ummmmm, Hullo, Jesus Christ! to which the culprit shrugged his shoulders, like 'O, I am sooooory that I almost hit you with my work truck'. Needless to say I was chuffed AND I was feeling a little bit sad pants about having TWO near death experiences.

In spite of this, Ron Dog, Holly Louise, Perrigort, and myself went strolling through vine land last night to make an assessment. Farv snapped off old growth and made imaginary snippings in the direction that he hoped the vines would grow this year. The most important discovery was that we need to stake our crop ASAP, as they have started to establish themselves in a most crooked way. My plan du jour is to find information on staking choices in the area. Personally, I'd like to stake with hockey sticks, as this will surely please the masses (David).

In the picture above you will notice that I look like a ghost.
This is my homage to my near to death experience.
Additionally, this is a so-so picture of my favourite Farv and myself at vine land in the early, early excitable spring.
Number one Muvvy took the shot.

Picture above picture is a shot of my Blundstones conquering the Baco Noir, which you can hardly notice I bet due to its disappointing transformation from season bitch.

Back to the Bobliotechque, Tout Le Monde!

Clem and Winnie

What a fetching couple!
My obsession du jour:
The Churchills!
And of course, as always,
Bicycles of any sort.
I've discovered a Masi touring bicycle that I would pull my teeth out for.
I imagine myself, long rides in the country side, on top of the mega steel steed.
I will stop at this one brook, I imagine,
and widdle a fishing rod so I can catch a trout the size of my bathtub.
It is yet decided who I will share with, either a grizzly bear or a bearded man.

For tonight, I shall try to fashion my eyebrows like Clem.
Tomorrow is for the dirty work.

Until Soony Soon!

Romarin

For your information, today I have acquired three potted rosemary plants.
Presently they sit *aromafying the sandbox, which makes me feel cozy and happy while I slog it indoors on this fine day.

Kids are using their red wagon's again, and it's lovely, and I find suddenly I want children, but mostly because the father's that pull them seem to be getting more attractive.
Cute farvy's rolling their dirty spring children around in vintage red wagon's.
O my.

In other news, Ron Dog and I will be visiting vine land this week, likely Wednesday.
I won't make any bones about pruning so late. Don't many things benefit from the cold shoulder?

What else?
A list. I will make a short list of great stuff du jour
1. Rosemary smells in the sandbox
2. Spring book launches with Dolmy and Guinness (and later, Fish!)
3. Divisadero, new Ondaatje
4. Earthquake Cabarnet, from (toot toot) Cali!
5. Cycling insanity (and by insanity, I mean obsession)
6. Running Gear
7. Georgian Bay shorelines to forage driftwood, which I will sand and apply a walnut, water-based stain to, then varnish - - their functional purpose will be...
Door stoppers!

Ta Ta for now, Tout Le Monde!


*Ps: Sadness is the discovery that aromafying is not a word.
:(

White Wolf

Keith Jarret Records.

Alone time.

One light on, and warm breeze coming in through the screen door.

I am thinking about animals.

I think about animals often.

For example there is a white wolf on side road number three.

It is acting strange and submissive because it wants my jugular, but I am in this automobile, which I think is strange.

In fact, today I am the passenger in my own car just to see how it feels,

and I want to be outside with the wolf who is not actually a wolf but a sharp field stone.

Later it is a Cougar who is cautiously stalking me, and even though as I have mentioned about the Wolf, it too is after my jugular, I am not feeling very frightened because, number one I have the dog with me, 

and number two, I know he is only curious about my strange blood.

Back in my den everything is right.

I look after things, and sweep up all of that impossible dirt.

Things happen; this, that.

Time, etc

And it is good still when I am old and like this;

my own kind of animal.

Come on, Come on, Come on

My Conversation w the Germination Process:

J: Um, Hullo?
G: silence
J: Germination, you there?
G: silence
J: Germination, you're mumbling..
G: silence
J: Are you okay?
You sound like you're buried under something.
G: silence
J: Listen Germination, I just wish you'd come out.
And I'm sorry I get impatient, but I really hate waiting for you.
You're ALWAYS parched, and I don't ALWAYS have time to have a drink with you.
G: silence
J: I'm going to give you another shot. The one week ultimatum, and I KNOW, I'm going to need to make some changes too.
G: silence
J: I don't mean to be critical of you, Germination.
In fact, I only do it because I love you so.
G: silence
J: I hope we can grow together one day.
Until soon, Germination.
I believe in you...
G: silence

Hattie Velo

It seemed absurd only because I hadn't relieved myself before we left, and Charlie horse was tied up pissing and fussing over shaky leaves and Sparrow.

So I walked.

The narrow path never opening allowed me to contain my thoughts.

To process

two wheels, a balancing act

What if the people were to see my knees?

Then Muir is there, smug like a Woodchuck,

genuine though

Observing these strange seedlings that have emerged from under the snow.

Heart thumping what-will-I-do-when-I'm-out-of-the-woods?

Gadunk, Gaduck, Dunk

Back when Geranium oil was exotic tincture from the Orient,

Muir held it under my nose, and I imagined another place that was not wrought

with fire and logs and mommy with the saggy breasts, the tired eyes

Father with the scowl, and sweat.

My thoughts wandered to the spot where the sun peaked through

It was only for a moment.

The roads were muddy renditions of the snowy one's of prior.

Nothing changes here.

Agnus Boyd squeezed out Carl's knickers, shouted at the beagle, Jorges.

It was down the road, what Muir had mentioned.

When I arrived I was without him again.

Aghast

It stood before me uncertain, this object that has come here from New France.

Velo they say, 'Take she for a ride, Miss?'

Yes.

And in an instant there is nothing impeding me, I am the exotic oils.

Away from here.

Away from here.

Shoo, Jorges, Agnus, Saggy Tits..

Shoo Muir.