A Field Trip Last Summer

To a supposedly "haunted" church in Gore, tucked away in the woods near our cottage.

 

St. John's Shrewsbury, now a deconsecrated church, is not haunted. But somehow rumours started, then vandals came and destroyed this once lovely summer place of worship. It is tucked away on a remote dirt road, so it was easy for gangs of teens to break in and party there unnoticed. It's quite sad to see the destruction of a once sacred place. It is both beautiful and mournful there; the sweet chapel is slowly crumbling and dissolving into the gentle gardens of the cemetery surrounding it. Its jagged holes, shattered plaster and profane graffiti are a sad testament to its former glory days.

I have friends whose children were baptized there. Other friends, visiting from Winnipeg, found a relative's gravestone. In fact, Julie's great-great-(not sure how many greats) grandfather William McKnight died exactly 145 years to the day, July 11th, we stood there looking down upon his grave. And as I basked in the warm summer sun and Buddy snuffled around in the grass, I read the stone and realized I was also the exact same age William was when he died.

Not a ghost, just a ghostly reflection of the photographer.

Then again, one can find the divine in an Icelandic train station. Go here.

If you leave your stuff where I can get it

I will get it.

Scenes from a Fall Day

These were taken yesterday whilst Buddy and I were out and about, mostly in the city's back alleys which I love. Except in the winter. These are a mess in the winter when we get piles of snow and ruts of ice and the cars you see peeking out can't actually get out. And there's nowhere to put the snow you're shoveling. Other than that, the alleys are pretty swell.

Also, Not My Problem. I have indoor parking for the first time ever and I plan on never going back to scraping layers of ice off my car every time I want to go get a carton of milk. But I digress.

Alleys are pretty this time of year.

 

The Private Lane 15 sign intrigued me, and only made me a) want to trespass (which I did to take the photo) and, b) want to go on a quest to find Private Lane 1 through 14. And beyond.

What I put up with on a daily basis

Watch this and you'll get some idea of what I put up with every day, living with the world's most ridiculous dog.

He clearly wants something. I know what it is, because I've lived with him for 9 1/2 years, but see if you can figure it out.

He's communicating with his eyes, and as you'll see at one point, his snout.

The scene: I am on the couch, trying to read, as he sits at my feet and stares, and shifts, and snorts. I know from experience that if I ignore him, he'll woof deep in his throat, tiny restrained woofs that blow out his cheeks. Those will turn into sharp barks that show me how disgusted he is by my lethargy to act now right now I've been patient enough, woman, and I lack opposable thumbs we've been over this!



Did you figure out what was bugging him?

I honestly think, seriously believe, that my dog has OCD.

A stroll around the 'hood

Summer may be winding down, but it ain't over just yet.

Paddling Around

 

 

As many of you know, I head to the cottage every summer. That means more time spent swimming, reading, gardening and kayaking and fewer blog posts. (Okay, I lied about the gardening. My "garden" looks like someone dropped a junkyard in the middle of a jungle.)

Today I decided to take the kayak to photograph some of the waterlilies growing in the next bay. I thought it would be easier to bring Neurotic Dog with me rather than leave him at home, where he would pace and chew paper to show his displeasure. He likes the kayak, and generally sits quietly, sprawled on my legs.

I was mindful today because last time I took out the kayak, I flipped it over and sent everything ass over teakettle. I managed to hang on to my glasses and hat that time, but my towel hit bottom faster than Lindsay Lohan.

I happened to have a gaff on hand and used it to fish out the sodden beach towel resting on the bottom of the lake, about 8 feet down. My husband actually gave me heck for getting it wet (the gaff, not the towel) since it belonged to his uncle, an avid fisherman. Well I would argue the whole point of a gaff is to get it wet, not sit decoratively in the corner of the living room. But I digress.

I decided to use my iPhone so I could pop it into a large Ziplock bag in case of accidental spillage, and off we went, dog, me, and double-bagged phone.

It wasn't easy, folks. I hadn't counted on just how difficult it would be to juggle paddles, the kayak, the dog, the camera and lean far enough over so as to focus, but not so far that I, or worse my phone, would end up in the lake. After paddling and drifting into place, I had to quickly grab the phone in one hand, hover over the subject, manipulate my thumb to press the button, all without a preview.

Did I mention the slight breeze that kept the kayak drifting either away from the shot, or more often, right over the blossom, submerging it completely? Or the bugs that crawled in my ears and eyes which I couldn't bat away?

Anyway, I got back unscathed, and despite Buddy's attempt to snatch a few waterbug snacks, we averted disaster.

 

We ended with a swim at sunset as a family of loons swam past and thunder rumbled in the distant hills. A pretty good day, and all the more precious because the leaves are turning already and summer is coming to an end.

Montreal, back then