wordsfromanneli

Thoughts, ideas, photos, and stories.


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The Common Loon

On a small lake in northwestern Washington State, my friend Sonia was kayaking and had a close look at a pair of common loons. One of them is pictured here. I did some digging for information and found out that except for the difference in their size, it is not easy tell male from female at a glance. So whichever it is, he or she would like to chat you up with a poem. Beware! It may be a bit loony.

I swim on a whim

And I’m good with a dive,

I stay slim and trim,

And it keeps me alive.

 

Spearing fish as I wish,

Or a scared little crab,

I’ll swish a big dish,

Or a wee, tiny dab.

 

My feet you can’t beat,

‘Cause they paddle quite well,

So sweet and so neat,

And they never will smell. 

 

 

If lost in the frost,

Time to leave for the sea,

Or be tossed with such cost, 

When the cold comes to me.

 

 

At sea I feel free,

And I call to my mates,

My plea, “Come to me,”

Seems to open the gates.

 

 


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Australian King Parrot

Just imagine what a thrill it would be to have one of these king parrots land on your back fence to ask for a snack. I would probably break a leg running for my camera. This photo was taken by my friend Leslie who lives in Australia. She assures me that she hasn’t broken a leg.

 

Maybe he’s getting ready for Christmas, wearing his best bright red and green finery.

He’s already looking for his presents in the form of a handout of seeds and any other fruit goodies that may come his way.

 

Eucalyptus, bolly gum.

These are foods that make me hum,

Berries make some tasty feeds,

Sometimes topped with hasty seeds.

 

Eating seeds of tuckeroo,

I’m a tough young buckaroo,

Nectar tasty as the seeds,

Yes, this tree fulfills my needs.

 

Berries of the lilly pilly, 

I could eat them ’til I’m silly,

Great bush tucker for a bird,

But there’s more, don’t be absurd.

 

Apples, pears, bananas, figs,

Mangos have me dancing jigs,

So much fruit is good for me,

I won’t starve here, don’t you see?

 

But if nature’s food is low, 

Always, there’s a place to go.

Folks don’t feed me out of duty,

They all love me for my beauty,

 

 

 

 

 


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Coffee and Good Pie

Back in 1953 when my family came to Canada from Germany, my dad had a job in a stationery store where they also sold and repaired typewriters. Remember those?

You can see the stationery store front in this photo (which happened to be taken on the day of the Fall Fair parade).

My dad was very good at fixing typewriters and small office machines. He worked hard at his job, and the company he worked for encouraged him to go to night classes to learn English, which he did. He was doing his best to learn the new language.

One day, his co-worker suggested that they go to the New Palace Hotel and Cafe for their coffee break. It was just at the end of the block where they worked, and would be quick.

In this old photo, also taken on the day of the Fall Fair parade, you can see the New Palace, the lighter building on the left.

I just noticed the people on top of the hotel building. They’re there to watch the parade.

“They make the best pies,” he said.

“Yes, but mein English…. I not know vaht to say.” My dad’s face scrunched up with worry.

“No problem,” said his buddy. “You just say, ‘Coffee and good pie’.”

“Okay.” My dad nodded. All the way to the coffee shop he practiced. “Kaffee and kood pie. Kaffee and kood pie. Kaffee and kood pie.” He was already imagining how good it would be.

In the New Palace Cafe, they sat in a booth, and when the waitress came over, my dad said, “Kaffee … and kood pie.”

A few moments later, she came back with the cup of coffee. She slammed it down on the table, and stuck her nose in the air as she spun around and flounced away.

My dad sat there, stunned. “Vaht heppen?” he asked.

His co-worker winced. “I think she thought you said, ‘Coffee! And goodbye!'”

 

 

 


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Before and After and After

Earlier this spring, I was bragging about how many blossoms were on our transparent apple tree.

Later, many of these blossoms turned into apples. If you’re not familiar with transparent apples, you might think it would be great to just take a big chomp of one of these apples and enjoy the juicy freshness. You would be disappointed. It would be juicy and fresh, but it would be mouth-puckering sour. The very ripe ones are okay for eating, but the best are the just barely ripe ones that are crying out to be turned into a pie.

Notice that the apples weigh a lot more than those pretty white fluffy flowers. We had to prop up the branches so they wouldn’t break under the weight of the apples and the tree is already leaning from the load.

I picked a bunch of the apples to lighten the load. In the house, I peeled and cut them and put them into a bowl with a mixture of brown sugar, cinnamon and a couple of tablespoons of flour.

Then the food processor made the job of making a pie crust easy, and as they say the rest is history. Well, the pie was, anyway. I was lucky to get this photo before it all disappeared.  Funny how apple pie just seems to evaporate whenever there’s a cup of tea or coffee around.

Apple blossoms, apples high,

Up on branches to the sky,

Pick them, peel them, apples all,

No sense waiting ’til they fall.

 

Long awaited, now they’re ripe,

Just be patient and don’t gripe,

Apple pieces in the pie,

Taste so lovely, my, oh, my!


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A Stupid-People Fire

Looking out from my house a couple of days ago, I saw what turned out to be a 4.5 hectare wildfire near Comox Lake, which is up in that forested area (the water in the lower part of the photo is salt water).

Luckily, the firefighters who respond to wildfires were quick to get up there, and after a while they got the fire at least to stop spreading. If not for them, it could have been very bad.

Man made, they think. These fires so often are. If it isn’t arson, then it’s carelessness and stupidity.

Campfires made where they should not be made at this time of year, and not put out properly.

A carelessly tossed cigarette.

Broken glass left lying around where the sun (scorching hot these days) can magnify and start a grass fire.

I don’t know what the cause was this time, but there’s a 99% chance it was preventable.

 

I worry about the poor little birds and animals who have to flee for their lives, if they can. So many of the tinier ones have no hope of going far enough away to escape the flames.

 


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Crossbill

The red crossbill (Loxia curvirostra) is one of six species of crossbill, three of which are found in North America. I was surprised to find out they belong to the finch family. Their crossed bills are especially helpful in picking out the seeds in the cones of spruce, pine, and Douglas fir trees. A few summers ago I had a pair of them come down from the firs to visit my birdfeeder and I was able to get some photos.

Their feet are also rather unique. It’s almost as if they are what we would call “pigeon toed,” turning inward slightly so they have a parrot-like walk.

The photo below reminds me of those hidden pictures they have in children’s puzzle books. Find the female crossbill hiding in the rhodo.

*Hint: It’s near the middle.

 

They didn’t stay long. Maybe they were on their way to somewhere on a holiday and just stopped here for a few days. I wish they would come back. I loved having them here.

Come out of hiding, Lady Love,

Enjoy this feast with me,

I’ll watch for danger from above,

So we can quickly flee.

 


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Tough Little Tony at the Beach

“What the heck is that I see,

Over near the shore?

Looks like twice the size of me,

Should I check some more?”

 

 

“Found some courage after all,

Show I’m not afraid,

If in trouble, I will call,

For my family’s aid.”

 

Tony lived across the street from us. He had a good long life there. For a while now, he has been reminiscing about his happy life and looking down on us all from doggie heaven. He is missed a lot.


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Hungry Heron

It seems that herons spend a lot of time standing on one leg with their neck pulled in. This guy looks like a grandpa with his hunched over posture and his beard.

Most likely, though, while he soaks up some rays of sunshine, he is thinking about where his next meal will come from. He is quite capable of standing perfectly still, conserving his energy.  He will step off his rock patio when he gets hungry and stalk that frog he’s been watching. The frog will most likely think the heron is just another rock or a shrub of some sort because it hasn’t moved in so long.

 

“No, please don’t spear me,” Froggie cries,

“My life has been so short.”

“But, Fred, you’re lunch,” the heron sighs,

“I don’t do this for sport!”

 

“Whatever shall I tell my wife,

When I’m not home on time?

It seems so cruel to take a life,

In fact, it is a crime.”

 

 

“I’ll tell you what,” the heron said,

“You need to eat as well.

Don’t worry. Eat some flies instead,

And I’ll just wait a spell.”

 

 

As Freddie Frog lapped up the flies,

The heron quick and able,

Got ready to ignore his cries,

And speared him for his table.

 

**Photo by Sonia from her visit to the George C. Reifel Migratory Bird Sanctuary in Delta, B.C.


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Three-wheelers in Greece

Once again, old, old photos taken with a cheap camera, but I find the content a treasure so I put up with the poor quality.

I don’t know what brand of vehicle this is, but I wonder if it’s something that was built in a backyard workshop.  You can see that the vehicle up ahead is also a three-wheeler, but the blue one in the foreground looks like it has had some modifications.

One thing I wonder about is the stability of the vehicle. I can imagine that it isn’t particularly safe to go too fast around a corner or it could roll over.

Check out the license plate.

Several modes of transportation were popular.

 

Even the bus can have a mishap. The tools lying beside the flat tire tell the story. The driver has gone for help. Either that or he has left town. Perhaps in a three-wheeler. One less tire to go flat.

These photos were taken in Kalamata (known for its olives, although it should be known for its dogs that bark all night).

During both nights we spent in a campground in Kalamata in our VW van, once heading south and then, weeks later, heading north again, dogs in the neighbourhood barked for much of the night.

When I checked my journal that I kept in those days, I noticed that after I mentioned the dogs barking, I also made a comment about people walking around late at night. This seemed to be a common thing; women pushing their babies in strollers at 11 p.m., because it was at last cool enough to be outside. So maybe that’s what the dogs were barking at – all the people going for walks at night.

 

 


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Trafalgar Square

There’s Vice-Admiral Horatio Nelson on his horse presiding over the square named in honour of the Battle of Trafalgar, which the British won in 1805.

Four lions guard the nearby 145 ft. 3 in.-tall Corinthian-style column (not pictured here) that supports a statue of Nelson at the top.

According to Wikipedia, Edwin Landseer, the sculptor of the bronze lions, is said to have used as a model, a lion that had died at the zoo, but it took him so long to get the pre-sculpting sketches done, that the model lion was beginning to decompose. It is said that the paws of the lions look more like cats’ feet than lions’ paws. I guess he should have worked faster.


The square is a popular tourist attraction, just a short walk from Charing Cross Station in Central London. At the time of this photo, cameras (real ones) were popular among tourists. I didn’t see a single person with a cell phone. At the time, they had only been invented four years earlier.

And the pigeons! I think there’s a good chance that the woman in the checkered skirt, on the left of the photo, had to wash her red top after having pigeons roosting on her shoulders and arms. I suppose the birds were fun to feed, but nowadays when we hear so much about bird flu, I wonder how wise it is to spend time so close to so many birds.  Those poor birds! – Walking around in each other’s droppings as they eat the questionable food the tourists throw their way.

The birds were discouraged from coming there sometime after 2000.  Whether we approve of the methods or not, anti-pigeon wires and regular visits by Harris hawks were used. It is now illegal to feed the pigeons at Trafalgar Square.

What do you think? Is it a good idea to let pigeons congregate in such numbers? People are obviously enjoying them, but….