Looking Back -- Part One

I had an interesting childhood. I was born in England, and my family and I travelled what seemed like the length and breadth of the UK before I emigrated to Canada when I was 17. My father was quite the entrepreneur, and had many different 'careers' which moved us in and out of many English counties and into Scotland, too. I attended six different schools in 11 years -- pretty tough on my social psyche. It got to the point where I didn't even try to make friends in a new location, knowing that we would surely be on the move again soon!

But I had some wonderful life experiences to make up for all of that.

England is a beautiful country with a fascinating history, and no matter where we lived, my father made sure we visited points of interest and historical value. My next few blogs will tell the tales...not necessarily in chronological order.

When I was 16, we moved to Prestwick, on the north-west coast of Scotland, where my father had taken the position of manager of a hotel located right on the sea-front. This was the view from my bedroom window on a stormy day -- and we had a lot of them!
But on a clear, sunny, summer day, it was a beautiful setting, with a view of the Isle of Arran off in the distance...not quite as close as this photo, but stunning, nevertheless. The Isle of Arran is actually situated in the Hebrides, south-western Scotland, in the Firth of Clyde near Glasgow.

It was decided, one day, that we should take a boat tour of the famous Fingal's Cave, on another island, the Isle of Staffa. So we drove to Oban to board a sight-seeing boat which took us out to the cave -- a pretty awesome sight.This is the entrance to the cave. It is too dangerous for boats to enter the cave, so we were dropped off just below where you can see the people on the ledges. I don't think they do that anymore -- considered too risky, so visitors are dropped off on a level stretch some distance away and they must walk around to the cave entrance. There are walkways inside the cave -- enter at your own risk -- but it's well worth it! This view is taken from the inside looking out -- on a calm day. When we were there the seas were rough, the tide was in, and the waves were slamming against the rocks. We got soaking wet -- a great adventure!

The cave is said to stretch 250 feet into the rock and its roof is 70 feet above sea level. Here is a description of the cave, from Wikipedia:

Fingal's Cave is formed entirely from hexagonally-jointed basalt columns, similar in structure to (and part of the same ancient lava flow as) the Giant's Causeway in Northern Ireland, and those of nearby Ulva. In both cases, the cooling surface of the mass of hot lava cracked in a hexagonal pattern in a similar way to drying mud cracking as it shrinks, and these cracks gradually extended down into the mass of lava as it cooled and shrank to form the columns which were subsequently exposed by erosion.

Its size and naturally arched roof, and the eerie sounds produced by the echoes of waves, give it the atmosphere of a natural cathedral. The cave's Gaelic name, Uamh-Binn, means "cave of melody."

That melody is what inspired Felix Mendelssohn to compose The Hebrides Overture, Opus 26 -- better known as Fingals Cave.

Click here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ne5sb1LBaJw&feature=related for a video tour of the cave, the island and surrounding area, with the overture playing in the background. You can 'hear' the waves in the music -- beautiful! (I tried to download the video, but just couldn't get it to work). It's well-worth watching it all the way through -- to hear the overture in its entirety; and the boat actually gets right to the entrance of the cave where you can get a good look at the structure of the columns.

Next post -- another Scottish site, with a facinating and inspiring story.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

We have a beautiful view from our living room windows. Ours is a quiet street where people take good care of their gardens. There are lots of trees and birds, and residents taking their dogs for walks on leashes and being good pooper-scoopers.

Only one thing spoils the view:

We've never really appreciated this lamp-post contraption -- but obviously someone does:

Look at that huge nest between the bin and the post. It's a squirrels nest, and although the lampost is ugly, at least we have fun watching the squirrel make his way up and down that post zillions of times a day with his mouth full of nest-building material.

I caught him the other day in the back-garden mulberry tree, chomping away at the leaves -- not sure if he was eating them or stuffing his chops full of them to take back to the nest. I'd love to know how many babies are in there.

It reminds me of a true story. Many years ago, we had to move from a lovely house with a lovely garden to a small apartment set on a very busy, noisy, dusty, main road. I was heart-broken and missed terribly all the wild-life we'd lived among for a number of years.

Feeling very sorry for myself one day, I prayed, "Lord, if only there was even just a little bit of wild life around here that I could enjoy."

Later, I went out on the balcony and noticed a real mess -- twigs and leaves I thought must have fallen from the straggly tree hanging high over the balcony (even the tree was dusty!) I moved the folding chairs away from the wall to sweep, and one of the chairs fell open. Inside was a nest of tiny, pink, baby squirrels!

For weeks after we had the absolute pleasure of watching the mother squirrel teach her babies, as they grew, how to jump from the balcony railing to the closest tree branch. If only I had a video camera in those days!

The squirrels came back every year, for the whole time we lived there...and I never shooed them away!

It seemed like I could hear the Lord saying, "See! I can even provide you with this. All you had to do was ask!"

Noisy Birds, Crazy Birds and New Bird Sightings

My sister, in California, has a daily visitor to her patio -- the next-door neighbour's chicken, whom Chris has named Henrietta. If you want to read about her daily antics (Henrietta's AND my sister's!) go to http://flamblogger.blogspot.com/.

Well, we just discovered that our neighbour, two doors down, also has chickens --only their's are in a coop so they can't go wandering, which is good. The bad part is that chickens lay eggs, and Blue Jays love to steal eggs. Suddenly there is an over-abundance of very noisy Blue Jays all around us, screeching and dive-bombing angrily, from morning till night, trying to find a way to get into that coop and steal the eggs. I used to like Blue Jays, but ever since we found one in the back of our garden devouring a baby bird (the baby's pitiful cries for help were heartbreaking) -- as beautiful as they are, I really don't like them at all. So our love/hate relationship with nature continues.

At least Blue Jays are smarter than crows. We put moth balls on the ground at the back of the garden to keep the crows away. Don't believe everything you read on the 'net -- which is where we found the advice to do this.

The crows thought they were eggs. First, they tried to eat them -- by taking one in their mouths and banging them on the ground to break them open (works with eggs, NOT with moth balls). They spat out the mothballs and wiped their beaks in their feathers and then rubbed them into the ground to get rid of the nasty taste -- which must have been quite a surprise. Then, being still certain that these were eggs, they took it in turns to stand guard over them.

Finally, when my back was turned, they made off with them! I can just picture it now. Two little mothballs in a nearby nest, with two very hopeful crows sitting on them waiting for them to hatch -- all the while holding their noses!!

Then -- a whole new bird-sighting, which is always a thrill! It was a hot day and all the windows were open, so I heard the unusual bird call while I was sitting up in the office working on the computer. Fortunately my camera was at the ready.

There was no mistaking this fella, once we'd looked him up in the bird book -- so identifiable by his black bib and spotted breast...

...he had the red patch across the back of his neck and the long, strong beak with which to find insects. He's the Northern Flicker -- part of the woodpecker family, but he likes to get his meal out of the ground rather than off the trees. There was a pair of them out on the lawn the next day -- but wouldn't you know it -- DOTH (daughter-of-the-house) has gone away and taken the camera with her!

Addicted as I am to birds and cameras, I went out today and bought a cheap one (camera, not bird) -- just $80 at Staples. Believe me, you get what you pay for - it's digital, but absolutely no good for bird photos, just too slow. All I would get was the tail-end of the bird (no pun intended) by the time the shutter went off. But not bad for close-ups of flowers.

Not sure if there's any point in keeping this camera, but VERY sure I will go crazy without one for a whole month!

Expelled!

My daughter and I went to see the movie, Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed, last night. I'd heard good reports and thought the premise of the movie (Intelligent Design) was good enough reason to view it. I have mixed feelings, now that I've seen it, and really don't want to get into the whole discussion for or against (the movie, or ID). But there are a couple of things I found interesting.

Richard Dawkins made this comment -- I think he was quoting someone else, but I don't know who, and I probably am not quoting him accurately:

If God is real, why is He hiding Himself so well?

I almost laughed out loud at this, because there is SO much evidence of God all around us that only the blind would not be able to see it.

The Bible says, "People know the truth about God because He has made it obvious to them. For, ever since the world was created, people have seen the earth and sky. Through everything God made, they can clearly see His invisible qualities - His eternal power and divine nature. So they have no excuse for not knowing God" (Romans 1: 19, 20)

This was brought home so clearly to me just recently. As you can tell by the posts in this blog, I'm especially fond of bird-watching. We are blessed to live in an area near a huge ravine and parkland, so we get to see a lot of different species. Most of them are easily identifiable with binoculars and a bird book. But this one recently stumped us:

It looked very much like an American Robin, which are everywhere in our neighbourhood. But the breast was so pale, and covered in spots. And I thought probably it was pregnant, since it was SO fat and very lazy -- it stayed in our mulberry tree for hours without hardly stirring. I was expecting to see a nest and some eggs before too long. The closest I could find in the bird book was a Varied Thrush. But my sister insisted on it being a juvenile American Robin.

Not convinced (sorry, sis!), I went to http://10000birds.com/the-10000-birds-clinic -- a new-found site I've been enjoying immensely, where they very kindly confirmed that my sister was correct -- a juvenile American Robin! But (and here's the part that blessed my socks off!), this is what 'Charlie' had to say, under the blog "Scruffy Youths and Spotty Adolescents," about female and juvenile birds, that I had never heard before:

Why should young birds look so different from the adults they grow into? There are apparently a number of reasons why young birds in general have different plumages to adult birds. Obviously one is that a plumage made up of spots and broken patterns is harder to see in the shady undergrowth or tree canopy that many young birds hide away in than solid colours and bright patterns. In other words cryptic patterning helps to camouflage the young, often still flightless fledgling when it’s at its most vulnerable and can’t so easily escape predators by flying away...many female birds have similarly drab, muted plumages (ie: the male Cardinal is bright red and black, the female a very drab pink/brown) for more or less the same reason of course: it makes them far harder to see when they’re egg-laying and sitting on the nest, a time when they’re particularly vulnerable too.

Another reason is that a distinctively juvenile plumage clearly establishes the young bird as a non-adult and apparently stops them being attacked by adult males whose sex hormones are still raging and who might see their own offspring as potential rivals. Birders commonly throw their hands up in despair at the many plumages that, for example, gulls go through as they age but studies clearly show that in the charged atmosphere of a tightly-packed breeding colony youngsters need to look very different to their own parents to avoid being driven from the nest before they’re capable of surviving on their own.

The question that immediately came to mind after reading this was, if evolution is really a scientific fact, how on earth could a bird, at some point in the evolution process, 'make the decision' to give birth to a scruffy baby with a paler, very spotted breast, in order to keep predators away? Ben Stein would say, it didn't -- it's the handiwork of Intelligent Design; I would agree -- and add, we have an awesome Creator God!

Another interesting comment in the movie, and I can't remember who said it, but in relation to the complexities of the human cell, it went something like this:

Darwin had no idea of the intricacies of the human cell when he said we all evolved from one cell. The cell is so complex, it has taken us thousands of years of growing technology to understand even what we understand today.

It's impossible that such an intricate, complex cell could have resulted from a 'big bang' or a bit of primordial ooze.

Psalm 139: 13-16 says of the 'Intelligent Designer' -- God, "You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother's womb. Thank You for making me so complex! Your workmanship is marvelous..."

The writer of this psalm, David, didn't have the technology that we have today to understand just HOW complex we are, but there was nothing wrong with his intelligence!

It's getting to be a jungle out there...and other stories

It's incredible the amount of rain and thunderstorms we've had recently. Every day for the last seven days we have had torrential downpours, ro-o-o-lling thunder and scary lightning bolts. And according to CNN Weather we are due for more this evening and tomorrow.

Well, that's ok with us -- it's great for the lawn, damaged by prolonged freezing weather and snow, and which we are now trying to repair. In fact, it is getting to be a jungle out there! The grass seed, which looked like it would never take root, is beginning to sprout, and no sooner is the lawn mowed than it needs to be mowed again. The trees are in full bloom (in spite of the tree-hating, shears-happy neighbour who reaches over our fence from time to time and chops away at the branches from OUR tree which are overhanging HER garden! The ones she chopped at are sprouting up twice as full as ever before! Isn't creation amazing!

But we still find ourselves at war (well, a little put off, anyway) with nature. Look what happens to the grass seed we put down.

Suddenly, out of nowhere (I guess they SMELL it!), the lawn is covered with hungry crows. Never mind, the grass is growing, and the rain is helping the rest of the garden, too.

Clematis, Peonies and Sweet Williams are all flourishing nicely.
Recently, we decided to make the most of a break in the weather and headed to the Scarborough Bluffs, which always reminds me of Danes Dyke, close by to my childhood home on Flamborough Head in the UK.


A narrow, winding road, squeezed between high bluffs, snakes its way down to Lake Ontario. Once a picturesque, natural addition to Toronto's landscape, the Bluffs, especially on the weekend, are now over-run with people, from every ethnicity imaginable, who gather around a plethora of varying types of cooking apparatus for a Saturday or Sunday afternoon picnic. It is so interesting to walk through the park and experience all the 'flavours,' both of the cooking and the nationalities, as one moves past the peanut butter aroma and brightly coloured skirts of the Filipino gathering, to the saris and curries of the East Indians, and the calypso music and curries of the West Indians, on to the European Borscht and schnitzels, and then to the North American burgers and steaks! A huge multicultural experience covering less than a mile along the edge of the lake! But they are not the only ones taking over the park:
Wherever there is food, there are Canada Geese -- and they make walking quite treacherous (what goes in, must come out!). Once considered beautiful symbols of the majesty of nature, I read recently, they are now considered to be no more than pests, like mice or rats. I must admit that the fact that they are a protected species is creating a multitude of problems. But how can you be upset with them, after you've seen this?
I guess, as with any created species, they are SO cute when they are babies!

"Come on now, children....hurry along"
They weren't the only wild life we saw -- apart from the picnickers, I mean :)

Chasing them around the parking lot trying to get a good photo, we thought these were Sandpipers, but discovered, when we checked the bird-book later, that they are Killdeer, which I've never heard of. Funny thing is, the book says "If you get too close to a Killdeer's nest, the parents will try to lure you away with loud alarm calls and by feigning a broken wing" -- which is exactly what this pair did!

One last sighting:

This Red-winged blackbird sure was squawking about something -- someone in his parking spot, I guess. If you look REALLY closely, you'll see the tiny patch of red on his left wing (on your right).

All-in-all, an interesting couple of hours!

Oh -- and almost forgot; for all my hundreds of fans out there waiting to discover the criteria for the miniatures that end up in my collection -- it is simply 1) no more than 2" tall and 2) designed (in its larger state) to hold liquid of some kind.

The Guessing Game Continues

Well, since no-one has yet guessed the second of the two criteria necessary for a miniature to find its way into my collection, I will post a few more photos. This beautiful aqua-green, delicate jug, two inches tall, is another e-bay find. Difficult to tell, but I would say it's made of acrylic, and it's hand- painted with gold leaves, green and white flowers and flower sprays in red, blue and yellow.From the sublime -- a cup and saucer treasure from my mother; Coalport china, made in England, its pattern is called Indian Tree, it's one inch high, two inches in diameter........to the ridiculous. Another e-bay 'find' but I wasn't so happy about this one. Actually it came in a set of three - a blue, green and pink one and I paid almost $20, including postage and handling - only to discover that they probably came from a dollar store -- made in China! Never mind, you wouldn't have known if I hadn't told you!

And finally -- a favourite: This little corn-cob teapot -- one and a half inches, with its lid on -- isn't it cute?

Now, I know you are going to say that all these miniatures can be used for a lovely cup of afternoon tea (British-style: tea-pot, mug, cup and saucer, and creamer!), and that's true, but that is not why they are in my collection.

Here are two more that really don't fit that criteria:

Two urns: the one above -- made in China, I'm sure, but very pretty. And the one below, another treasure from my mother -- a little piece of Limoges, from France, with a 'trysting' couple on the front.

So there you have it -- a good sampling of my collection -- none of the pieces are valuable, but all are very precious to me. And have you guessed why they are in my collection? As I said, it's very simple, and I only stick to that reason to keep me from spending too much money -- there are a lot of miniatures out there!

It's the little things that count - for me

I'm not a big collector of things, these days. In fact, at my age, I think it's better to start doing away with things!

I used to collect stamps when I was little, and learned a lot about the world. I also used to collect things and put them in my 'museum,' which was actually a dresser drawer lined with newspaper. I had some artifacts my grandfather brought home from the war -- a wooden snuff box, hand-carved by a soldier from a piece of tree trunk; a metal match-box holder he brought home from India, a hand-carved wooden crumb tray from China. Grandad also gave me some ancient Japanese shoes -- the kind the women would wear, with their feet bound in cloth and squeezed into the tiny embroidered slippers, to keep their feet tiny.

I found some fossils that my brother insisted were 'billions' of years old, and I had a coin, from 70AD, that I found in a trench in front of our house, that was being dug for new pipes to be laid, (while I was pretending to be excavating in Egypt or somewhere exotic).

I had an assortment of coins from around the world, and also some mosaic stones. The little coloured stones came from the floor of a Roman villa that my father took me to see one Sunday afternoon, not far from our home in Yorkshire. The villa was really in ruins, but the mosaic floor had been excavated and put together as best as possible, and my father hopped over the protective rope and took a little handful of the stones for my museum. I was so surprised that he did that, but I was pleased, also. I must say, though, that I wondered -- if everyone who visited the villa did that, there wouldn't be much of the floor left to see! I had many other items -- the collection was quite extensive, especially for a child to own.

I even typed up a little catalogue of my museum items - what they were, where they were found and approximately how old they were, along with any other little details I could discover about them.

Unfortunately, when I moved from the UK to Canada I had to leave them all behind, and ultimately my parents -- horror of horrors -- threw them all away, thinking they were just junk! I was devastated, but I got over it, in time.

Now I only have one collection -- miniatures from around the world, that I have either picked up in my travels, or someone has brought back from their travels....or I have found on e-bay. There are only two criteria that a miniature has to meet, to get into my collection. One is that they must be no larger than two inches high. As I show you some, see if you can guess what the second criteria is.My friend. Debbie, brought me back this tiny jug, from a trip to Greece. It is exactly two inches high, made of clay and hand-painted -- I love it.

This little watering can is so delicate, and I love the picture of the robins on it. It's also just two inches high. This was an e-bay find.
These came back with me from Romania. They are miniatures of the kind of pottery you would find in just about every home over there. Hand-painted and then glazed, the thinner one is just 1 1/2 inches, and the other is two inches tall.
I bought this one last year, in Conwy Bay, Wales. It has a picture on the front of The Smallest House in Wales -- probably the smallest house anywhere! And that's where I bought it, from a lovely lady dressed in the Welsh national costume -- because the house has been converted into a tiny gift shop. This delicate china mug also is two inches high.

I'll post some more of my collection next time -- but have you guessed what the second criteria is, for a miniature to end up in my collection?