Happy Canada Day! Bonne fête du Canada, tout le monde

If you're not on Canadian Soil - or Trafalgar Square, London, UK (shanghaied by the Canadians every July 1st for a madcap experience of street hockey, maple leaf tattoos and mounties with plastic horse) - you might be unaware that today is Canada Day, celebrated with pomp and circumstance in Ottawa and picnics and fireworks by the rest of us.  It's not an independence day, with the traces of bitterness, guilt, loss and triumph that these inevitably include, just a jolly day out.  Canada's only fight for independence has been against the Americans in the war of 1812-14 which is being celebrated this year by both sides.  The British/Canadian/First Nations fought off an invasion force in a series of battles in the south of Ontario (then Upper Canada), along the St Lawrence from Montreal east and deep into America.  Who won the war?  Well, the Americans claim to have done but since their avowed aim was the invasion of Canada and its absorption into the United States ('a mere matter of marching' Jefferson) and we are still free then I think we can safely say that we did.  Who lost?  That's a lot easier to say - the First Nations.  Tecumseh, the Shawnee inspirational leader and orator had joined Brock in defending Canada on the basis that the British would secure by treaty the lands to the south and east of the Great Lakes for the confederation of First Nations but by the time peace was signed in Ghent both Tecumseh and Brock were dead and the agreement conveniently forgotten.  Sorry, I got a bit carried away - but Happy Canada Day anyway!

Local river with beaver dam

      Second half of the year and headed for shorter days - who can believe it?  And I've been here nearly 6 months.  I beginning to feel at home but still have much to get to grips with, not least all the mechanical 'things'.  I've never been confident working with engines despite my father's best efforts - he insisted we learn how the internal combustion engine worked before he would teach us to drive, then we would 'know how to drive properly'.  All I now ask of a car is that it start when I turn the key and keep running until I get where I want to go - not that it look pretty, invoke awe or inspire jealousy.  In return I will take it regularly to a mechanic who nurtures it and try not to drive it badly.  A simple transaction.  However, it's impossible to avoid mechanical interaction where so much machinery is in everyday use and I'm not making a very good fist of it.  I've been naming the months after their main impression so March was 'The Month of Waiting', April 'The Glimmer of Chartreuse'.  June has defined itself most enthusiastically as 'The Month of Things Breaking Down'.  To be fair, my wheelbarrow had already soldered its broken wheel on with rust and old concrete, defying all efforts to remove it but there was absolutely no need for the tractor to recklessly explode or for the mower to presume that it no longer needed to lower the cutting deck to a point where it might be useful.  And then the car starting shuddering at increasing and unpredictable intervals and my computer packed up as the motherboard parted company with the rest of the machine (always blame the mothers, I say).  With one final, irritating, totally unnecessary, peevish action my blender ground to a halt on its first outing while I was making a particularly innocuous batch of hummus.  At least it's quiet at my house.


      I've spent the day trying to get Jesus down from the cross.  There's a crucifix at my gateway, the previous owners of the property being Franciscans, and after long consideration I've come to the conclusion that my strong Protestant upbringing cannot easily reconcile itself to a tortured body being the best way to greet people.  So I decided it was time he came down.  But I'd reckoned without the small but very determined wasps who had built a nest under his right armpit.  After much reconnoitering, some delicate balancing at the top of a ladder while under sustained attack and a final  lunge with a long pole, I succeeded in dislodging the nest but by now our fiery friends were in such a rage - who will not fight to defend their home? - that I've retreated indoors and will see if Jesus has been deserted by all his friends and is ready to descend or whether the catholic/protestant wars will continue.

a few hours later...


      Well, it's 1-0 to the wasps.  They stood by him better than his previous friends but I've go the top off the shrine before I was driven away and I hope the rain shower we've just had will persuade them they should find a drier place to rebuild.  I guess there's only about 20 wasps but they learnt fast.  I took my frustration out on the axle of the wheelbarrow and after much banging and clattering have got the axle out and am ready to fit the wheel.  No axle grease.  I hope the home improvement (DIY) stores are open Monday - it's a national holiday.  When you move countries axle grease is the sort of thing that doesn't come with you.  I remember the tins my father had of it, a golden, thick worm of grease that oozed through the centre of a wide ring you pushed down into a larger tin.  It's probably in a plastic tube now.

Friends Bev and Johan visit from steamy Toronto

      Weather wise, it's been warm and sunny here and rather dry meaning I have to water the garden more than I like - it takes about 2hours to get round all the beds and I am beginning to see the advantages of the regimented gardens I see around.  At least the straight beds allow of leakage pipes being laid in the troughs.  And it doesn't really seem to be working; the only beds that are really going for it are the corn/beans/squash - the old magic.  The wildlife seems to be keeping itself to itself although two of my dear friends came to visit me from Toronto - great to see you Bev and Johan.  The lack of wildlife might also have something to do with the hunting proclivities of one of the cats, Timmy.  Present score 2 American chaffinches, 3 chipmunks and 4 red squirrels - they all love the shelter of the stone fences but it provides excellent cover for a marauding moggie.

One less chipmunk...

... and the guilty party (the one not looking guilty)

And something is foraging on the young shoots in the garden overnight - not slugs or snails as, like earthworms, they are invasive species in Canada and haven't made their way to my isolated lot yet.  They've been brought into most suburban areas by bought plants and are invading the bush.  I did come upon one jolly fellow the other evening, bowling along the path through the bush at the back of the property.  I could swear he was humming to himself and was certainly oblivious of a curious person standing in his way taking photographs.  Eventually, when I thought he might walk into me, I had to address him, 'Evening, my friend.  Out hunting?'  With that he shot about a foot into the air and scuttled into the nearest bush.  I walked past quickly, wishing to disturb his evening stroll as little as possible, but I guess porcupines simply don't have to watch out for other path users.

Good night and, if you're one of the lucky Canadians who don't have to get up to an alarm tomorrow, sleep late and well.


xx  Talk soon


p.s.  Apologies for this being a day late but the server went down just as I was about to add the images to the blog, confirming my theory that the present mechanical breakdown conspiracy has gone digital and global.