This morning, around 7:00 AM, I took Roxy down to the mailbox with me - it's on the main hightway, about 100 yards down my driveway. About 3/4 of the way to the road, in the middle of the yard, there's a rusted, overgrown, antique piece of farm machinery ...
I like to believe that this hulking, delapidated skeleton was once hitched behind a horse and worked the fields in back of my house. If you look closely at it, as I have, you will see evidence of strain and wear, missing teeth and chipped tines. And if you listen you can hear the "Hup! Hup!" from some long-ago summer morning, the farmer urging on a broadchested Morgan through the reawakening land.
I don't know who painted the seat blue, or when - it's really much more gaudy than this picture would lead you to believe, an odd eccentricity that pleases me no end.
I've resisted all efforts to have it declared as junk and hauled away. It is, I suppose, junk. But hard work over generations should lead to a dignified, sedate retirement, and it warms me to provide just that for this old soul.
Roxy waited by the machinery as I went to pick up the newspaper. It was a chilly morning; 2 degrees C, or 37 degrees Fahrenheit. A clear, cloudless night meant a heavy front had settled on the land. At my mailbox, it still clung to the grass, bushes, and trees, its cold fingers yet to be pried off by the first warm rays of autumn sun.
I love early morning in the fall. The leaves are only now starting their change. In a week or two this Island will be a Wonderland of incredible colours. I only hope my camera - and my skills - are up to the challenge.
As you can tell, Allie named the lil squirts (pun intended). She claims their personalities match their names. So far, I have yet to see any of them exhibit much more personality than "Hey, where's the milk bag?" and "OK, I'm all full. Time for a nap." But what do I know?
Anyway, they got names. And I am still resolved that none will be staying. So yez can all just shaddup about that. Ain't gonna happen.
My dear friend Laura at Vitamin Sea has challenged us to "Play tour guide, and photograph your neighborhood or parts of your geographical area that you would like others to see." She's got a bunch of links up to people who are doing just that. I thought I'd play along ... so:
To get to where I live, you have to cross a bridge. And not just a teensy little bridge. This one is close to ten miles long over the Northumberland Strait between Cape Tormentine, New Brunswick, and Borden, Prince Edward Island. If you look closely just above the water in this pic, you can see the Confederation Bridge. (You may have to click on the image to enlarge)
Once you cross the bridge, you're in some incredibly beautiful green
rolling hills. In summer the greens are breathtaking, both in the sheer amount of green and the million different shades:
And beaches? Why yes, we do have beaches - the entire North side of the Island is one long 120 mile white sandy beach. Liberally sprinkled with scenes like this:
But Laura wanted us to go out and take photos, not just grab ones we had sitting in a file on our disk. So this is my 'hood, taken in the last hour:
From my woodpile, which is about halfway towards being safely stored in my shed after spending the summer seasoning, toward the garage (and further to the house):
Our apple tree, an ancient thing that bears very tart apples, perfect for pies and crisps and crumbles but sour enough to make you make a funny face if you bite into one right off the branch:
I have raked probably four bushels of apples off the ground and still, after a windy day like yesterday, this is what I get:
But there is a certain beauty in an apple on a tree. I can see this one from my office window. Today. Tomorrow? Well, Allie's making pies ...
Allison: So, you know how you see something and think you remember it, but later it turns out you didn't remember it well at all ...?
Me: (warily) Yeah ...?
Allison: So, the five puppies ...? Not so much five. Eight. But ohhhh ... so cute ...
Me: But ... eight.
Allison: But cute.
Me: But eight.
Allison: What, you were gonna say "Yes" to five, but "No" to eight?
Me: Well ...
Allison: Alright, then. But look ...
Me: It's a Pound Puppy. You know? Like the ones we gave you when you were kids.
Allison: No, like the real Pound Puppies. The ones you gave us were raggedy-ass knockoffs.
Me: Still. OK, what's the story on the mom?
Allison: Some assholes took her in to be euthanized because they " ... just didn't have time for a dog". The vet said "She's five weeks pregnant. I'm not euthanizing this animal." So they just walked away. How could you walk away from her? Look at her:
Me: So ... what now?
Allison: So, they grow. And you decide which of them is the cutest of the bunch and ...
Me: Don't even think it.
Allison: What am I, new? But hey, you want to fool yourself, go ahead. Anyway, I have to go out now. So ... good luck with them ...
22 years of pictures from the first day of school. Always on the doorstep - although the doorsteps have changed twice. Always dressed nicely (first impressions are lasting!); always carrying a backpack; and always with a bright smile filled with anticipation and excitement.
Two more years and Allison will graduate with a degree in Education. She'll go on to teach English in Middle School, most likely.
So, like her sister, she'll have many more First Days of School.