broke out of the city 8 a.m. Friday morning and good thing too!  it was forecasted to be smoking hot weather wise, humid through the roof, and everyone in the GTA knows that the 400 highways out of Toronto anytime after 12 noon on a Friday, in the summer time, are INSANE!  we managed to break free and arrived on the range just after 3 p.m.

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home sweet home on a classic summer evening:  lawn mowed, clear blue skies filled with bird song.  no noise pollution.  and at night, no light pollution.  unless of course you count the full moon blazing and the fire flies buzzing:  light pollution.  (ha!)

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ah yes… the sweet Manitou River flowing through the front yard.  and this year it’s running way slow, slow like Labour Day.  (she’s running slower than pictured)

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and those summer nights…  summer in the country.  summer away from the city, far far away from the wild goings on downtown.  far from the subways, the trains, the planes and the taxi stand.  far from the drunks and the drugged, the dispossessed.

out here at night its the night hawk wings skidding on the summer sky.  read the classic Anishnabe poem:  Cruising Back to the Ranch with My Young Friend.  or the poem inside the liner notes of the album, Starfish, by the Church.  that says it right there!

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but i’ve been on the road since October 21, 2017.  a place like this, out here, needs maintenance!  it needs a grounds keeper and a gardener.  last year i was on the road for ten months and when i finally arrived home for the summer i found this!  the lawn had gone native.

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last summer after 10 months on the road:  hay field with crows.  truth is the lawn isn’t as far gone this year but it is a mess out there.  it is one gigantic nightmare out there.  its so bad i don’t want to take a picture of it!

but i am here now.  and with some free hands i’ll soon turn this place around so we’re looking at some measure of civility in the big wilds.  you see i like going out on the lawns on a summer evening, a tasty red swirling in the glass or some of that 15 year old scotch we smuggled in from overseas, handy and dandy!  i want that front lawn mowed like a golf course!

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of course there are some things you just don’t mess with.  the Manitou River is one of them.  this beauty rolls past our front door night and day, 365, and let me tell you it is just fine as is!

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The Manitou River:  it’s good to be back home!  It is July 1st, Canada Day, and we’re back to stay, 8 glorious weeks!  and pretty soon there are going to be some very lovely ladies in residence!  now that is really what this house on the range needs:  the sound of the ladies, laughing…

 

p.s.  if all we have to fuss about is the condition of the lawn:  you know life is pretty darn good!

also:  the poem in the liner notes of the album:  Starfish, by The Church, 1988

Good, now and forever, music reach and awakens,
Swimming in the shallow end, down, down, remember
A need, a gnawing longing for what ?
Shapes and faces come slowly into mind
Glissando Australian insects out there signalling
The sound of Dad’s car in the drive
Lying in the grass, watching the sky
The piano washes over thoughts, the smell of crushed mint
The ants which come out as it begins to get dark
Helplessness, planes miles up turn on their lights,
Child, oh child, the tastes in our kitchen,
Not knowing the right words but wishing long and hard
Golden clouded moon, enveloped by the family
Melting further the cracks in the pavement become chasms
Shrubs whisper, walls conceal adult pleasures
A mere hint and we’re gone too
Forever, beautiful things, the shop that sold shadows
A walk down the path towards our old home
Mercurial touch of past summers
The sheer wait of nostalgia
Maria, now long dead, glide through this tonight
Shimmer, disappear and return
Emerging random memory in flux
Falling felled the flowering kingdom
Finding buried tin soldier years later
The sounds of a carnival way off in the valley
An abandoned nest, the sprinklers splash on in darkness
Windows glimmer dim waiting for her at the edge of dusk
Distance, our hesitant conversation, someone calling
A bucket full of starfish, warm rain, the long sleep
Deep dream, dream of now, now and forever good

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