The Scent of a Puppy

This is Benny.

He's every bit as rascally and devilish cute and innocent as he appears. He loves his morning walks and this past Friday, he was particularly bouncy when he saw his leash appear for the early day stroll. He's generally very trying well-behaved, and it's a fluke due to Frank's patient training that he usually comes when ready called, after romping around off-leash. On this day, we took a bit of a different route along the pathways - one which led around a small peninsula of land which followed the creek. Benny was free to romp around and greet passersby of both the human and canine persuasion.

At one point, we sauntered past a particularly strong and unpleasant smell. "What stinks?" I asked in a nasally voice as my forefinger and thumb quickly pinched my nose.

"I don't know, but I sure as heck hope that Benny hasn't found it" muttered Frank as his eyes scanned the area for a flash of scampering JRT.

We could see him up ahead, greeting a group with very young children - young enough to toddle alongside their strollers. There was something in the way that they all recoiled eased away from him that told us we were in trouble.

"Benny, come!"

Nothing.

"Benny, get over here, NOW!"

Zilch

"BENNY!"

Once it was his own idea, along came a skittering little terrier, followed seconds later by the beast odor from Hell!

"Oh, Benny, not again. You rolled in another dead fish!"

This was only the third or fourth time this spring that Benny scored a rotting carcass and rolled in it to his heart's delight.


This is how he looked immediately after his romp with Eau de Poisson Décomposé. He couldn't figure out what the commotion was about.

Neither one of us could stand the odor long enough to continue our walk, so we turned around and headed back home to give Mr. Stinky a bath.


He was not too happy but he took the consequences like a man.

Immediately after his shampoo and rinse, Benny needed to roll in something - anything, to escape the feeling of cleanliness.


He chose the living room sofa to restore some of the daily smells that his bath removed.

I'm sure there'll be more urgent baths in his future and we'll just have to deal with more Smelly Dog from time to time.

Along with all of the licks, cuddles and genuine puppy fun... this is Benny!

The People on the Bus

Last month I wrote about a bus ride that I took, during which an initially grumpy little girl and I exchanged funny faces and gestures, and became fast friends by the time her stop arrived. Despite the fun and the endearing connection that we made, the incident left me feeling sad because of the lack of interest her mother showed her. Last week I took that same bus ride at the precise time as the previous trip, and I half-hoped I'd see the little girl again. I didn't.

As I settled into my seat, someone rang the bell indicating their intention to disembark at the next bus stop. As a woman and her young son passed my seat, I could hear the boy enthusiastically singing "The Wheels of the Bus" It brought me back to a time when my own son was around four, and my cousin's ex husband taught him his version of the song. My son was the only kid at school who knew the verse "The muggers on the bus say 'give me all your money' all day long."

Shortly into the trip, a woman and four very young children climbed the steps into the bus and paid their fares. The youngest was in a stroller but the other three cautiously made their way down the aisle of the bus, as it angled its way outward from the sidewalk and back into the flow of traffic. This sudden acceleration caused the bus to lurch slightly, and one of the little ones stumbled backwards when he turned around to make sure that his Mom was still nearby. He was an easy catch as he staggered into my outstretched arm. I helped him to steady himself, and the woman glanced over to me and smiled her "thank you."

The three older children took their places on a long, side-facing seat at the front of the bus. They immediately scrambled up onto their knees so that they could look out the window. Their mother took the next seat which faced front where she could keep an eye on them, and a firm grasp on the stroller holding her youngest child.

Throughout the trip, the children chattered to each other and to their Mom. Each of their questions and comments were met with a thoughtful response from their mother. Her pride showed in her eyes as she caught my smile while watching them. The kids were oblivious to my presence, even when I snapped a couple of photos with Mom's permission.


The interaction between parent and offspring was heartwarming. The four pre-schoolers were well-behaved, curious and bright. Mom was warm, available and proud. I felt grateful for the reminder that most parents do their best, and love unconditionally. This young family may not have known it, but they made my day.

Like last time, this bus trip was the start of my journey eastward to visit Frank for a couple of days. As usual, the photos below are from walks around his place. Please remember to click on them to enlarge.


The day before I arrived, this lovely historic town suffered a bad fire. Two of these 100 year old buildings were completely gutted, a feeling which I'm sure was shared by store owners and customers alike as their town is preparing for its 150 year anniversary this summer. We wandered through a few of the quaint shops directly across the street, which were open for business as usual, but the sadness and sense of loss among onlookers and passersby was palpable. By Thursday afternoon, the building was fully demolished. Click here for a view of this same street, just a few doors down, as it appeared to me in December.



Further east along this same main street, there's a cozy little tea house which recently opened for business. One full wall is dedicated to dozens of varieties and flavours of loose tea, which you can purchase in several sized packages. Their entrance way displays this unusual table and chair set, made from the wood of coffee bean plants.



As you can see by the above photo, they offer much more than tea. Along with appealing lunch items, they also have delicious homemade sweets such as tasty pecan butter tarts and dunk-worthy biscotti. As I was leaving with a package of tarts for that night's dessert, this "Daily Special" sign caught my eye. I hadn't had lunch yet, and the opening line seemed particularly friendly. I read it as "Homemade soup, Baby!" in a George Costanza kind of voice. It took a moment for me to realize that the use of "baby" was referring to the salad greens, and not their customers.



Heading out of the downtown area, a set of steep steps leads back to the wooded paths along the creek. The area is beautiful in any season, but the changes are quite startling as the spring foliage emerges and the rich green colours return.



Frank picked a bunch of these delicious fiddleheads the week before. By the time I took this photo, most of them had unfurled into the lovely ferns that will last through the summer. We boiled them until almost cooked, then sautéed them in butter, minced garlic and freshly-ground pepper. Once drained, you can also toss them in a dusting of Parmesan cheese which will cling to the unopened fronds. This springtime treat goes great with almost any dish.



This view of the creek urged me to stop and snap a photo. The trees have sprouted leaves, but are nowhere near as lush as they'll be in a week or two.



As I glanced out over the creek, this tree caught my eye. If you click to enlarge it, you'll see something red and white hanging from its branches, just a little left of center.



Zooming in, I could see that it was a wayward fishing float. I wonder if an avid angler will rescue it before it becomes completely hidden behind the growing foliage. I'm looking at you, Frank!



A walk in the woods is incomplete without the silly antics of a goofy JRT. Benny dares us to just try and take his stick. Don't even bother - you can't win. The puppy runs like the wind.



Back at Frank's place, he suggested that I take this shot as the late-day sun shone on this bare-boned chair. In a few weeks, it will be warm enough to grab a cushion and sit out there most any evening, while that night's dinner sizzles on the barbeque. He'd probably pop open a beer and I might pour a glass of wine as we both toast our appreciation to the return of warmer weather.

For amusing tales about walking with Benny, check out the most recent post (April 29) over at Frank's blog.

The Art of Observation

My older son, Jeffrey is a quiet observer. He notes things mentally - some of which he shares but most of which I believe he keeps inside his head. It isn't that he doesn't talk or express his interests - he'll do that quite gladly and in great detail on topics that occupy his fancy. But he has always been a private sort, and expressing his worries or doubts won't happen as readily as his excitement about everyday events. But he always observes.

Another one of his qualities is his steel trap-like memory. I can't remember where he gets that!

One of the bonus aspects of having an observant mind and a good memory is that he notes and recalls what people say in passing, and so he also has a tendency to give good gifts. Last year, I probably only casually remarked about how I had to borrow some of my neghbour's freezer space the previous summer, when we were buying back ribs on sale, in order to stock up for our summer Ribfest. Sure enough, that winter, my son played Santa and presented me with a chest freezer to keep in my basement. It's been wonderful to have that extra storage space, and this past summer, we we didn't need to rely on others to store the multiple packs of ribs.

Several of his gifts, both large and small, have been exactly what I've needed or wanted, and this year was no exception. Earlier this year, my printer died. In truth, it had never been all that healthy from the beginning. Jeffrey noticed that the splotchy text and red-tinged photos did not enhance his brother's school projects, or anything else. He observed and remembered, and presented me with a nifty new printer this past holiday season. It's working well. The colours are accurate, the print time is swift and I can finally buy separate ink cartridges for each of the colours that run out, as opposed to having to replace all colours when just one of them expires.

Jeffrey gave us another smaller, but wonderful gift this year. He knew that I had recently bought a bird feeder and was enjoying watching and photographing the birds that came to feast upon the seed within. The brightly-wrapped package revealed a suet basket and several cakes of suet to help attract different varieties of birds. It took some time until the winged critters found their way over to the basket though.

The first time I hung the loaded basket from a tree branch, it met with a quick demise. Strong winds wreaked havoc with the bird feeder, turning it askew which resulted in its entire contents being dumped on the snow, where a growth of weed and wild grass will probably emerge next summer. The basket was nowhere to be seen the next morning. Only a small length of the chain remained on the branch where it hung the day before. My guess was that the fallen item had been located by my neighbour's dog Raven, who has a penchant for gobbling up the bird seed that she encounters beneath the feeder several times a day. Later that day, my suspicions were confirmed when Benny trotted back from his early morning visit to Raven's yard, proudly carrying the empty suet basket in his mouth like a trophy.

Frank took to securing the basket with his second favourite fastener of choice (duct tape being the first, of course). He used twist ties to fortify the chain and to tighten the clasp, rendering it virtually impregnable to anything other than the birds which were meant to feed from it. And there it sat for a full week before it began to see some action.

On Saturday, a Downy Woodpecker landed in the tree, close to the basket. After flitting around for a bit, he decided to land on the basket and feast on the suet inside. I snapped a few pictures, but was unhappy about how they turned out. The day was dull and the images could not pick up enough light to adequately show off the markings of this small bird, and it was just out of range to make use of the flash.

A little later, I discovered that the Downy is not a particularly timid bird, and when he returned multiple times during the course of the day, I decided to edge my way closer to him, while he continued to peck away at his treat. He scarcely gave me a sideways glance as I slowly opened the double glass doors and eased myself onto its threshold. One more step in his direction, and click! I got the image I'd been hoping for.

I have Jeffrey's power of observation to thank for that.

This art of observation also comes in pretty handy when listening to and watching for birds. I hope you enjoy the photo of the Downy Woodpecker and the others that are posted below. Please click on the images to see them enlarged.

This beautiful little guy dined at the suet basket on and off, pretty much all day. Occasionally he'd try his luck on various tree branches but kept returning for a sure thing. His red cap tells us that it's a male.



Yesterday was clear and sping-like which prompted me to take a walk. I snapped this little sparrow sitting in a bush along the pathway of a nearby park.

After a fresh snowfall a couple of weeks ago, this sparrow landed on my backyard plum tree to wait his turn at the feeder.

A mourning dove and sparrow pick their way though seeds which were tossed on the table-top café.

This fluffy starling perches upon a snowy branch watching as others peck and feed.

The blue jays have become accustomed to expecting their morning peanuts, and I often hear them calling for them long before I'm ready to top up the feeder, and toss out some peanuts for squirrels and jays alike.

Benny watches intently as various birds and squirrels dine comfortably knowing that he's behind a closed door.

Three long seconds later, Benny tires of this bird-watching hobby and considers chasing a cat instead.

In a few days, I'll post some semi-recent shots taken at the park on a snowy night.