I think I see him. I hope he’s got my bag of grubs.
Yes, you’re right! And I see the big sack full of hazelnuts for me.
Er, ah, HERE I AM, Santa. OVER HERE!
Where? I don’t see anything.
When he does come, I hope he brings me a lot of rosehips. Wonder what they’d taste like. In the winter I get tired of these holly berries and mountain ash berries. But maybe the rosehips are too fuzzy inside. They look good though.
Oooooh! Look! He’s got sleigh troubles. His reindeer are conking out. Should’ve got a Tesla Sleigh. With inflation, the price of reindeer food today is high, even for Santa. But even so, the cost of the Tesla Sleigh itself is enough to break the bank.
Yeah, he’s in trouble all right. Look! He’s turning around. Sniff… there goes that box of dog biscuits I asked for.
I see that. Hmm … I think I hear them complaining about being hitched up so close. Something about social distancing.
Sigh! No herring for supper tonight. Not by special delivery, anyway.
Well, I never! He’s going back to the North Pole. There goes that bunch of tree bugs I asked for.
I’ll go round up some recr-hoots.
Hey, you. Santa’s looking to hire you, Al and the Paca, to be his reindeer substitutes.
What’s that you say? You don’t play second fiddle? Huh! You’d think that in the spirit of Christmas, you’d oblige an old man. I see you are related to those llamas next door with all their llammering. You’re just lazy, the All Packa ya. Well, see if I give a hoot.
Here’s a likely crew.
Say, would you pronghorns like to save Santa’s bacon tonight?
But we’re in Montana.
That’s okay. He’ll have to go by there when he limps home with his rainydeer crew and drops them off. Maybe you can hop on and help get them home before the nightshift begins. Thanks a lot.
I’ve been watching and I don’t see him coming back yet. Must be in the workshop, adjusting the harnesses to the new team.
I think I see him now, with his fresh crew of pronghorns. Funny-looking reindeer. Better than nothing, I guess.
Oh, this is so exciting. We just can’t sit still.
Children, children, not so loud,
Reindeer’s nervous of the crowd,
Send a delegation out,
Find that sleigh, and kids don’t pout.
Let’s go meet him.
This way! This way!
Santa’s big sleigh.
Sliding, gliding,
Santa’s riding.
Now settle down or Santa will think you’re all quackers.
Look how well behaved we are; black and white, eating at the same table together. One big happy flock. We’re a “blended flock.”
Oh, listen to you guys. You think it’s easy being the black swan of the family?
Whaddaya mean? You think you’ve got it bad? You try being a rat. All I did was chew on a few of those lovely black licorice cords in the truck and WHAM! They lifted the trunk and exposed me to the elements. But they won’t see me hiding in the corner. Bet you can’t see me either. I’ve got a really good hiding place in the door well too. I’ll just wait there until Santa brings new wiring for me to nibble on.
One thing we all got for Christmas – not sure if Santa had anything to do with it – was darn cold weather. So when Santa had to fly back to change his Rainydeer tires for the more heavy-duty Pronghorn brand, he asked the North Wind to provide some Puddle Puzzles for us to play with while we await his return.
Actually, I thought the puzzles were more like A-maze-ing. You just try it. See if you can find a path out of this maze.
I hope your Christmas holiday time is amazing too.
Did you find the rat in the truck? Look on the far back right-hand corner of the picture (actually the left side of the truck).
I thought I’d try my hand at writing a sonnet. 14 lines in iambic pentameter (da-DAH, da-DAH, da-DAH, da-DAH, da-DAH), three stanzas of four lines and one of two. Rhyming pattern ABAB CDCD EFEF GG
It wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be.
A student teacher starting out anew,
Stood scared before a class of girls and boys,
She struggled to remember what to do,
And wondered how to teach with all that noise.
Her shaking hands, her quivering voice aside,
She took a breath and said to form a line.
“I’m happy to be teaching you,” she lied.
“It’s your first day of school, and also mine.”
“Please take your seats,” the bashful teacher said.
But one child called out loud, “I like your dress.”
No, that is not a frozen lake beyond the tree line. It’s the northern end of the Okanagan Valley, seen from Silver Star Mountain Resort.
Imagine life going on under that massive fog in the valley. People are trying to drive to and from town, to buy groceries, fill the car with gas, visit with friends, pick up kids from school. They’re feeling their way through the fog, trying not to drive into the lake beside the highway. Doom and gloom, like being half blind when you’re right down there in it. Grope, grope.
And here is the fog over the Comox Valley. Below this fog is the salt water. Only boats are groping their way from A to B. Under this fog, the sea lions chase salmon while the salmon chase herring.
Eagles hover over unsuspecting loons, or scoters, or ducks, looking for a sickly one – perhaps one who had a hard time finding food during that last cold spell. They wait for a break in the fog to spy their lunch. Or, they might fly over unsuspecting birds who don’t expect an attacker from the mist.
The fog is scheduled to lift now that a new southeast system is moving in, but it seems that in a surprise about-face, the wind is forecast to bring us one more day of northern air and blow some snow flurries on us – just for a few minutes tomorrow.
Who knew that below these bluffs, a bluffing contest would break out? Meet the harlequins, Harley and his girlfriend, Quinn.
Hey, wait up, Quinn! Want to go sit on this rock for a while? Catch a few rays?
Oh, Harley, this is so boring. And all you ever want to do is take a nap. I need more excitement in my life. Speaking of which, I think I see some arriving, over my shoulder. But three to one … I don’t know….
Back off, boys. She’s mine.
And you two can get off this rock and go join your buddy, or you’ll see what I’m capable of. I’m not bluffing.
Did you see that, Quinn? See how I put the run on them? Now come on. You stick with me.
Okay, Harley, so I was impressed … but just a little bit.
Harley! You’re such a brute. Don’t you know a lady doesn’t like to get splashed? You’ll ruin my feather track.
Sorry, ’bout that, Quinn. Here, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll find you a crustacean for an appetizer. They’re right under here in this shallow part. See them, there, on the bottom?
Well, if you want to get it for me, Harley, go for it, but I’ll have you know I am not a bottom feeder.
Harley loved his girlfriend, Quinn,
Stood by her through thick and thin,
But the bully boys came ’round
Asking where his Quinn was bound.
“Nowhere special, just these rocks,”
Up they scrambled, all these jocks,
Harley shivered and he shook,
Quinn gave him a frightened look.
“Fear not, Quinny,” Harley said,
“We’re just fine, I’ll use my head.”
And with that, he butted them
Off the rocks, to save his femme.
“Now my dear,” he said to Quinn,
“Let’s go swimming, jump right in,
I’ve a rock crab just for you,
Tender so you need not chew.”
“How delicious is this treat?
Little rock crabs can’t be beat,
Harley Baby, you’re my man,
I am now your biggest fan.”
Please visit my other blog for all things writing related. Anneli’s Place
The cold snap has hit us. The suddenness of the bitter cold was a shock to us west coasters. We’re tough when it comes to wild winds and torrents of rain, even crashing trees and power outages, but drop the mercury a tiny bit and most of us coasties are wimps. We don’t like the cold.
That wind is supposed to be southeast. Every day, every day, all through the winter, it’s southeast. What a shock when it switched to northwest. I swear I could smell polar bear fur in the wind.
Ruby, our 13-year-old springer spaniel has done some retrieving while duck hunting in the last couple of weeks, using joints and muscles she hasn’t used in a long time. Now, old age is catching up to her. She’s been having trouble with the stairs, not wanting to put weight on her left shoulder.
Just now she is soaking up the warmth of the tiles in front of the woodstove in our family room.
She does have a nice soft dog bed, but the tiles have been warmed by the fire and it’s just what her shoulder needs, while she dreams of duck hunts of the past.
Near the mouth of the Campbell River, the Canada geese were having a wine and cheese party, mingling, gossiping, and chatting, and looking for the hors d’oeuvre platter to come around.
Not far away was a flock of mergansers. When they saw the camera, they got upset. I thought I heard them squawk, “No pictures!” as they fled. But soon I saw that I had misread what was going on. It was the hors d’oeuvre platter going by and they all wanted some salmon fry canapés.
It was a team effort, rushing the waiter who fled with the tray of food. The head merganser called to the others of his team, “Get in a line, quick! Pretend you’re a fishnet and let’s rush the salmon canapés. Surround them if you can.”
“But they’re just small fry,” Alec, the smart one, quacked.
“Silly boy,” Mergan scoffed. “Don’t you know these tidbits are the best?”
“Duh! I guess…. I’ve heard that good things come in small packages.”
“Well, don’t just sit there bobbing on the waves. Swim like you’ve never swum before. If you want to eat, that is.”
*****
Watch this short video, and while you may not see Mergan and her friends rushing the waiter while that smart Alec misses out by being the last – all talk and no action – you will see the water boiling from the onslaught of munching mergansers. The blood and carnage have been censored. I made sure it was all out of sight, under the water. It will help to have the video on full screen so you can see the water on the left, stirred up by the ducks.
Not that much to see, but under that boiling water, the body count will never be known. The mergansers are very good at hiding the evidence.
Sitting in a skiff with the Captain, I dangled a fly line in the clear waters of a local lake trying to keep my mind on fishing. As long as there wasn’t a breath of wind, the surface of the water was a mirror. The reflections kept me reaching for my camera to document the beauty of the day times two.
Oops! I had to interrupt my ooh-ing and aah-ing to take the dip net and bring in this trout for supper.
Back to my trance over the gorgeous scenes around me. These ducks might be scaup – not sure. They were at the far shore of the lake, happy to chat and exchange gossip, until we came too close for their comfort.
Time to go! But in a short while they were back again.
What a fine day it was. The fish were biting and the mosquitoes were not. It doesn’t get much better than this.
People are not the only ones who put on a pound or two over the holidays. It happens to our pets, too.
This morning the Captain took Emma, our field cocker spaniel, to a nearby farm to hunt for ducks. This photo is from yesterday, when we were just out for a walk. Ducks were everywhere.
Ruby, the springer spaniel, was upset that she didn’t get to go. Nearly 12 years old, she’s almost completely deaf now, but she still knew she was being left behind. She felt better after I gave her a little treat and pulled her doggie bed right beside me by the laptop.
Last night when the Captain was getting things ready for this morning’s outing, he hauled out the little neoprene vest I made for Emma a couple of years ago.
“You’d better try it on her,” I said. “She’s put on a couple of pounds.” (After all, it’s just after Christmas).
Sure enough, it was VERY snug.
“You can’t have her wear that. She won’t be able to breathe.”
I looked high and low and luckily found a piece of left over neoprene (from the old wet suit that I had used to make the vest).
I cut a 1 1/2 inch strip the length of Emma’s suit. It didn’t take long to cut the suit and sew in the strip. With a zigzag stitch and the piece butted up to the edges it was easy to insert a strip. No need to overlap neoprene to make a seam. Just laying the edges snugly side by side and zigzagging them together works fine.
You can see the post I did about the original vest a couple of years
wordsfromanneli 