tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82406705590903034612024-03-05T12:59:11.464-05:00SEVERN SOUNDINGSSevern Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-43637355578142154032017-04-06T14:52:00.001-04:002017-04-24T09:02:46.037-04:00MY OLD MAN MOBILE!<div class="p1" style="font-family: ".sf ui text"; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal;">
<span class="s1" style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">It was late last summer. </span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">I stood there gazing upon my rusty, yet faithful old </span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">Ford F-150. It was time to make a change.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;"><span style="font-size: 17pt;">Most every Spring I usually performed a "backyard body job" of sorts on my old gray girl, but this, her sixteenth summer, was to be her last spent in my charge.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">She'd faithfully towed my boat countless times back and forth to the lake. She'd carried hundreds of signs for </span> <span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">Severn Soundings Team. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">Most importantly, she </span> <span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">safely transported my most precious cargo of all. What? Of course our children, but more often than not, </span> <span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">my companion was Jackson, </span> <span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">my Golden Retriever. </span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">I say golden, of course, because of his breed's </span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">hair colour, but my wife might suggest that the golden part refers to my pampering treatment of him, but that's another story.</span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">The old truck still ran good, but I had to concede that the body had gotten to the point of unworthiness for the road. </span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">I had, of course, for some time now been in search of a suitable replacement, but it seems that good used pickups are like "hen's teeth" and damn pricey when you do find one.</span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">Turning to friends and family for advice it seems that everyone had an opinion. Donna, our office administrator, pointed out how happy I could be with a new Dodge Ram. My youngest daughter Jessie and her boyfriend (both making payments on new vehicles) are true blue fans of the Chevy line and all it has to offer. </span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">Overall, the consensus seems to be that I should, for once, reach a little deeper into my pocket and buy something decent. </span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">However, anyone that knows me well, understands that my preferred expenditures are </span> <span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">more towards cottages, watercraft, fishing equipment, scotch and cigars (in exactly that order). </span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">The idea that a person can get $40,000 or perhaps $50,000 worth of use/value out of a any new vehicle is one that is lost on me.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13lq9hD7C6cirhTSbRe0LumKlYeWGnZ0dlbJGQ7jYrEFCCIgDJtOevCpFPqZNyVy3_JjN1d71kek99MBGcVYUAmyy5m_e0DIO1-oup77uOfMc1pA4gJXeu-Cmw4kN_egCYGsb5s4fw5u1/s1600/IMG_1858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13lq9hD7C6cirhTSbRe0LumKlYeWGnZ0dlbJGQ7jYrEFCCIgDJtOevCpFPqZNyVy3_JjN1d71kek99MBGcVYUAmyy5m_e0DIO1-oup77uOfMc1pA4gJXeu-Cmw4kN_egCYGsb5s4fw5u1/s320/IMG_1858.JPG" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">In the end I was fortunate enough to happen upon a perfectly good, but admittedly well used, 11-year-old Envoy SUV at a price I approved of. While it is not an actual truck, it is a 4X4 Limited Edition GFX model with all the bells and whistles one could want.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">In its day it was a top-of-the-line vehicle, but as my style savy twenty-something children point out, it's day has long ago come and gone. So alas, I must endure the barbs and jokes about its full length swirly stripes and excessive chrome, rather than a modern blacked out look </span> <span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">and a dated boxy profile. What do I think?</span><br />
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<span class="s1" style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">It's not so bad really. As I listen to vintage rock tunes cranked up on my Bose sound system, relaxing on programmable, powered, heated, leather seats, t</span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">here is warm sunlight streaming through the sunroof, but it still remains subtle and subdued thanks to the well tinted cabin glass of my luxury ride. </span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">I'm gliding down the highway in smooth and quiet cruise controlled </span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">comfort.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">I glance into the rear view mirror and see Jackson's grinning face hanging over the backseat. I'm thinking, "Hell no, this isn't so bad!" And then I wonder</span> <span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">when is my car payment due? And then I remember I DON'T HAVE ONE! </span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">Hey Millenniums, w</span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext-semibold"; font-size: 17pt;">ho's savy now? </span></div>
Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-29829603037956777982015-12-24T09:31:00.000-05:002016-01-06T14:56:48.419-05:00A BOY'S BEST FRIEND!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>JAX</b> </td></tr>
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Some of the best relationships in life get off to a rocky start and then seem to "hit their stride" and blossom as you recognize the benefits of being together and what each of you bring to the table, both emotionally and in a practical sense.<br />
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No I'm not having a "Doctor Phil moment!" I'm referring to the friendship that has evolved from a tenuous first few months of having an infant in the house to what exists between a young boy and an old dog today. A dog tends to react to, and takes his cue from, whatever mood or atmosphere that exists within his pack (family) at any given time. This is the reason that it is said that generally unstable humans make for unstable dogs. Even the most stable packs with the most calm, confident, leaders suffer from a little instability when a new member/baby arrives. Even before baby arrives there are new feelings within the family that the dog senses and in his mind must follow suit, like great joy (and in our case great surprise), excitement, anxiousness, nervousness and perhaps a little apprehension.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>JACKSON AND HIS MOMMA</b></td></tr>
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Our dog responded by staying close to his momma whenever he could, his nature changing somewhat from his happy-go-lucky demeaner to one of protectiveness and concern.<br />
So it was no surprise that when Jax came along his arrival did little to calm our aura. This little creature, thrust amongst the pack, brought with him sights, sounds and smells that were foreign and unwelcome to an adult male with very little in the way of maternal instincts or nurturing tendencies, and I suspect the dog didn't like it much either! (Just a little humour! Of course I meant the dog!)<br />
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Seriously though, the first interactions between infant and dog were few and were strained at best. The little guy made the old dog nervous, and whenever things went wrong, he was always the one to receive the scolding. Come to think of it, things often go that way with me too, when I am left in charge of keeping the young boy out of harms way.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>INTREPID WOODSMEN BUILDING THEIR FIRST CAMP FIRE TOGETHER</b> </td></tr>
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Now, I should say it this point that I, a veteran of raising his five siblings before his arrival, am far better equipped to keep the boy safe than a golden retriever. (Well maybe not far better, but better at least.) Jax has grown from infant to toddler to young boy in his two and a half years of our family's life. Where there was once uneasiness and anxiety between the child and his dog, there is now understanding and a kind of friendship.<br />
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Our old boy, and perhaps "this old boy" as well, have reckoned themselves to Jax being part of our pack. We quickly learned that this young man is generally the centre of attention within the household. By positioning ourselves near the boy the dog and I often receive scraps of food, as there seems to be a never ending supply of snacks offered in the young lad's presence. Incidentally, close proximity to him also occasionally awards me with a shred or snippet of the warmth and attention that was once lavished upon me in my pre-Jax years, but that's getting off track and sounds like a good topic for a another post!<br />
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Yes, boy and dog seem more and more every day to be better friends and have more in common. At two and a half years of age Jax frequently exhibits behaviours such as afternoon naps, running through puddles, eating food off the floor, inappropriate public grooming and occasional howling for no apparent reason. Jackson displays these and as well continues one that Jax has thankfully mostly discontinued, a penchant for chewing his toys and eating the bark off sticks in the yard.<br />
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All in all Jax would say that it's nice to have a dog as a friend. Someone to eat your vegetables for you, someone willing to share his kibble and treats with you, someone to provide interesting terrain for your toy trucks, the list goes on.<br />
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I think that their one area of disagreement might be Jax's fascination with flushing toilets. It's a nuisance when you are trying to get a drink!<br />
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<br />Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-63468081549968528402015-07-31T11:28:00.000-04:002015-07-31T11:28:06.012-04:00FAMILY MATTERS!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZDQZ6JTRe0BihsBxWYAcEq_mpRFnGkBUG1ZQSHzCPNosCBqDdKoCjmK9nM7kNg_yKxofBx6w1qeNIr598m9BRFC19sp3pltXhJnxjLs2W1_lZ-GE53nNJkhPk-E-Q2FIaiaoWfY54-hB/s1600/IMG_0767.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGZDQZ6JTRe0BihsBxWYAcEq_mpRFnGkBUG1ZQSHzCPNosCBqDdKoCjmK9nM7kNg_yKxofBx6w1qeNIr598m9BRFC19sp3pltXhJnxjLs2W1_lZ-GE53nNJkhPk-E-Q2FIaiaoWfY54-hB/s200/IMG_0767.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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There's an old saying that, "You can pick your friends, you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your family." And you can't pick your friend's nose either, but that's not where I'm going with this.<br />
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These days, when everyone seems to be a Facebook philosopher, liking and sharing each others posts, purporting to be a happy member of a wonderful Facebook family, it occurs to me that interfacing with your pseudo Facebook friends and family tends to be effortless and usually amusing. One merely has to scroll passed posts that are boring, displeasing, negative, stress inducing, or downright crazy or offensive points of view. Not so in the real world with your real family. Interacting with real friends and real family members, as flawed and imperfect as they (or you) may be, is tough!<br />
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Worst of all, having to deal face to face with disagreeable friends and family members sometimes forces us to question ourselves a bit, rather than simply scrolling passed the conflict. For this reason its easy to let ourselves slip into treating strangers like family and family like strangers through the magic of today's social media. When you think about it, that behaviour is hardly consistent with the glowing Facebook profiles that we have worked so hard to create for ourselves and profess to be the "real us."<br />
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Typically, our profiles and pages depict perfect pictures of perfect children, spouses, pets, jobs, pastimes, vacations and philosophies.<br />
We re-post trendy words of wisdom that decree that we as "forty somethings" shall no longer tolerate negativity in our lives and shall surround ourselves with only positive, like-minded, forward thinking individuals (like ourselves of course).<br />
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The reality is that while this ideology is well intended and great advice in a perfect Facebook world, its practice in the real world is challenging at best and impossible at worst. We don't all have great bosses, co-workers, fellow commuters, creditors, hair days, and the sun does not always shine. You get the idea.<br />
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When it comes to family, whether they are blood, through marriage, or even become family by circumstance, we cannot be so lofty as to ignore, disown, or distance ourselves when the going gets tough. For one thing, this would be so unlike our social media personalities, right? There is some good in all of us. We sometimes just have to work at it to appreciate real friends and family. And there's just two things to keep in mind.<br />
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First, its a fact that you can't pickem!<br />
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And second, even in these modern times, family matters! <br />
<br />Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-41719138717189853952014-12-12T14:10:00.001-05:002015-01-03T12:05:33.513-05:00MORE FUN THAN DISNEY!There was a promise of +3 degrees that late November day. Not much of a promise, but a damn sight better than the last week, which featured full on winter type storms and lows of -15 at night. I was putting together a crew for a expedition of sorts, which would include a boat ride, a bonfire, some hot food around said bonfire, and of course, refreshments. Apprised of my intentions my dear wife offered the opinion that my plan for the day was both foolish and dangerous, but one that would not cause her concern. She said that her lack of concern was mostly because she doubted severely (as she put it) that I could pay anyone enough to accompany me into that frozen Hell. I got distracted by her choice of words (what did she mean "mostly"?), but then quickly recovered saying, "Pay someone? Why in the world would I have to pay a fella for a grand adventure?" She said, "You make it sound like you're offering them tickets to Disney World, when instead you are putting together a crew for a re-enactment of The Franklin Expedition." I explained that a "possum lodge" type group of men like us find a day like this very exciting and it <i>was </i>like offering a day at Disney World!<br />
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At my age I think I know a thing or two about what men consider to be exciting. Now to be inclusive of all, I've been told that younger groups of usually unattached men have a very different idea of a Disney type experience. I understand it includes a raised stage, brass poles, and having plenty of dispensable cash on hand. I think we are getting off track a bit so back to my plan for the day.<br />
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The purpose of this trip of course had nothing to do with finding the Northwest Passage, but it did involve finding safe passage through an ice filled Lost Channel and rescuing one of my "tin boats" and the "little Merc" that powered it. We launched at an ice free Big Chute and headed east on our quest with a sturdy vessel, plenty of provisions and a well seasoned crew. Navigating around ice flows as we went we made good time until changing course and heading up into the slower moving waters of the channel itself.<br />
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The weather had changed its course as well with temperatures falling rather than rising (+3 becoming -3 and a snow squall coming in to make things interesting).<br />
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Progress forward became very slow, but being a swarthy bunch we pressed on. We were within sight of the cottage and the promise of shelter when, like the ill fated Franklin crew mired in heavy ice, we were forced to abandon our ship and continue on foot. Ice conditions were at that problematic stage (too thick to navigate by boat but too thin to support the weight of a crew member).<br />
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It was while I was witness to the exertions of the men between boat and shore that I made the following observation: generally speaking the more seasoned the man the more mass he seemed to have and the less likely he was to be "fleet of foot," which played a big role in how dry he was reaching the shore.<br />
Eventually all souls aboard made it to shore and the relative safety of the cottage with varying degrees of success staying dry.<br />
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Undaunted, we set about to build a fire, winterize the cottage and rescue "The Shenanigans" from her icy prison beside the dock. No easy feat as she had gained a little weight since summer in the form of ice and snow filling her hull.<br />
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The little Merc? Well it was liberated as well, then travelled by sleigh, then boat, then the back seat of my truck to its place of wintering on a bench in my workshop. The crew members? Well we wound up getting warmed by the fire, having a hot meal and a friendly debate about who fared the worst on this excursion and of course the inevitable assignment of blame.<br />
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As with all endeavours it was not without adversity and I suppose responsibility ultimately rests upon the leader. What is it that Frank Costello said? "Heavy lies the crown" sort of thing?<br />
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Like the ill fated Franklin Expedition the unanswered questions were many. <br />
Perhaps my choice of days to depart was flawed. Maybe the path taken through an ever thickening layer of ice should have been different. Even the order to abandon ship may have been hasty. Who can really be sure?<br />
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As I gazed at those gathered around the fire that day, through the jokes, barbs and differing versions of events, I was only sure of one thing.<br />
Clearly, not a soul here would trade being at Lost Channel today for Orlando and a visit with Mickey!<br />
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<br />Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-60820836497000239402014-12-05T14:10:00.000-05:002015-01-03T12:10:33.739-05:00GETTIN' OLD VS FEELIN' OLD!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQR6z0epL07v-uX6rYeggn_UwNmj28WXCmUyHMt4r9_PJuwpMZFprjIbCJS7QlxwXlu9NphfKdorwkfBRbEyaPNIuN68cK3bxwo1ImQ6um98ZtrpDBUApyFwWvELqDvwsiVW2lMmSHMJZ/s1600/Photo+2014-12-04,+5+12+41+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQR6z0epL07v-uX6rYeggn_UwNmj28WXCmUyHMt4r9_PJuwpMZFprjIbCJS7QlxwXlu9NphfKdorwkfBRbEyaPNIuN68cK3bxwo1ImQ6um98ZtrpDBUApyFwWvELqDvwsiVW2lMmSHMJZ/s1600/Photo+2014-12-04,+5+12+41+PM.jpg" height="200" width="153" /></a>A hot bath, a fresh shave and new hair cut gives a guy a little bounce in his step! It's a good feeling, and if you're lucky enough, like me, to have a little "youthful influence" from a certain toddler in your life, you might convince yourself that youth is a state of mind, not a physical attribute that slowly slips away from all of us.<br />
As a fella ages he must however realize that feelin' good is just that, a feeling. It passes. Value wise? Let's see! The expression, "that and a buck and a half will buy you a cup of coffee," comes to mind.<br />
On the other hand "gettin' old' is much more intrinsic, much easier to quantify, and tends to stick with a fella once it gets started. Then of course there is "feelin' old" which is different again. It seems to be more transient in nature and seems designed to nicely counteract that first, more agreeable, condition I mentioned, "feelin' good or youthful."<br />
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"Gettin' old" is that back/shoulder/neck pain that makes extended lounging on a bed in the mornings like a teenager completely unmanageable when your in your 50's. "Feelin' old" is when, despite his better judgement, a fella takes a moment to survey his image in the morning mirror and can't figure out for the life of him why Walter Matthau is staring back at him.<br />
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"Gettin' old" is when you hurt your back or hip sneezing or wrench one of your fingers tucking a "blankie" into the back seat of your truck for your dog to sit on. "Gettin' old" is realizing you forgot your change at home when you get to the coffee shop and then fumbling for your reading glasses so you can see instructions on the bank machine that's going to charge you $1.75 for the privilege of access to your own money! And lastly, "feelin' old" might be patiently standing in line with my fresh shave and my new hair cut and having to listen to the young gentleman in front of me flirt with the "20 something" server. He was obviously in a much greater hurry than I this morning, as he had opted for a hat rather than a comb, a cigarette rather than a tooth brush and of course the customary pajama bottoms rather than actual pants.<br />
Not being burdened by an actual job to go to, the PJ's I imagine are a comfortable choice, and judging by their predominance among the generation x'ers, a fashion statement of sorts. The statement it makes to me is: I have my "Playstation 2" on pause in my parent's basement, swiped a couple of toonies from the console of Mom's car and ran in here to snag something sweet before my next online adventure. Most of my observations about this young fellow are simply conjecture, but the cigarette part I can attest to as I had seconds ago watched him flick it over his shoulder into the parking lot with one hand on the door of the building. Well apparently the staff there did not share my disdain, as with a few grunts, chuckles and mumbles, looking up from his cell phone he flashed a smile and got a free apple turnover. Me, the old guy, well I got a frown and an "eye roll" and was charged an extra 30 cents when I politely asked for a double cup, as I was walking to work.<br />
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Oh well, such is life! Can't say I didn't occasionally enjoy the same preferred treatment in my youth as this fellow now. I guess the young man's attention made her feel good, and it will only be later, when she's counting her tips, that she may realize the true value of his momentary interest in her. Yup! You guessed it!<br />
"That and a buck and a half will buy you a cup of coffee!"<br />
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<br />Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-45087354301291082302013-11-23T18:49:00.000-05:002013-11-30T11:21:57.202-05:00MAYBE BABY!<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinIiRoA55_-mjirrRhyPNe9ECDVTCEV3LL92s1WJZTMgb3w8rBGXlbTx3JHC-oogTdth-RsrdOsNp1Uxkf0S3dTjgFdxjRViEAG6JntIZBmbobmFm17BbVaXxuXZziPzQIikIkDq-N5yRa/s1600/Mickey-Mantle-9398023-1-402.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
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I think it was Mickey Mantle that once said, "if I would have known I was going to live this long I would have taken better care of myself." We give it little thought when we are young, but at one time or another are surprised to discover that our journey in this life can be short, or sometimes an extended one; with many twists and turns along the way leading to both good fortune and bad.</div>
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This last year I had a revelation of sorts myself.<br />
It started innocently enough. My bride and I had settled into a full fledged partnership, finished up our fiscal year, and generally pleased with the results of our efforts, took some time to relax. <br />
Nothing extravagant. Just some time together, simple pleasures like some little day trips, a bit of shopping, some light reading, a great meal and perhaps a good bottle of wine to finish. It's unclear to me which of these activities contributed most to romantic inclinations, but my suspicions are that it was due to a little of each, and in no small part to our little reading group's assignment to read, review and discuss the hugely popular Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. Anywaaay, not to point fingers, but I have wondered in light of subsequent events whether there is any existence of a class action suit brought about by other, let's say mature couples, similarly wronged by the author, but I digress.<br />
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As I remember it, being blissfully unaware, we also enjoyed a carefree Christmas season (clearly a favourite of Brenda's). The new year brought its usual blessings, both our birthdays falling in February came and went, she celebrating hers, and me being nearly 10 years her senior, grudgingly accepting mine. It was only in the months to follow that there were hushed conversations about Sweetie's general health and some unusual, yet naggingly familiar symptoms that seemed to be occurring. Initially her and her closest confidantes laughed them off. There was some teasing that went on of course! "Welcome to the beginnings of your golden age!" Chalking symptoms up to be pre-menopausal, she laughed them off and got on with the new year's business.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNrYNTyiQAz1KzqVpfg55b8d1FEsqPHB4yCrJupTRPUL7TlLxEWWBk82zBEFy7Dc8d0PWFrFmGvEajVXBDpvSG0bYi6sk89aRsLwVTaFNflFtNcAvVnNXgOkIuO00f_nbSxTOK-mKZxaKF/s1600/IMG_1629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNrYNTyiQAz1KzqVpfg55b8d1FEsqPHB4yCrJupTRPUL7TlLxEWWBk82zBEFy7Dc8d0PWFrFmGvEajVXBDpvSG0bYi6sk89aRsLwVTaFNflFtNcAvVnNXgOkIuO00f_nbSxTOK-mKZxaKF/s1600/IMG_1629.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jessie's Grad Pics (posing with one of her brothers)</td></tr>
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It was still some time after our initial concerns that it became clear that some sort of "mishap" had occurred. Evidence of an alleged "perpetration," both circumstantial and physical, became abundant and undeniable, and of course all eyes fell to me. To explain, like any good mystery, we knew who was involved, and soon after when, that the how and the why? Well those are of course a little tougher to determine. <br />
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The how, so I'm told, was more a combination of blind luck and good (or bad depending on how it's looked at) timing as the odds of conception for us were something like less than a one percent chance.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtAwgHR2wwbKIC0FjbCHiIUgatMYz3_JWhCzS158lRZM3Svu_08XgOlnEmIQxreuM4i0lOPmAOMrB7FQcK6kvbmlAyXOg1Tp6LGDZvxdcqYgh1exNz3DBrCgwT4PlSMO00Rn5Hxj5Kibb/s1600/IMG_1896.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtAwgHR2wwbKIC0FjbCHiIUgatMYz3_JWhCzS158lRZM3Svu_08XgOlnEmIQxreuM4i0lOPmAOMrB7FQcK6kvbmlAyXOg1Tp6LGDZvxdcqYgh1exNz3DBrCgwT4PlSMO00Rn5Hxj5Kibb/s1600/IMG_1896.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jax Douglas Moreau Born August 23, 2013</td></tr>
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Some of my buddies likened it to a hunting accident where I have accidentally discharged my rifle into my foot, or more like both feet (as odds are my mobility is likely to be greatly impacted for some time). Like any hunting accident, my excuses were much the same as you normally hear. "I'm not sure what really happened...it was an accident...I never meant to do it...I never knew that there was even game in the area that was in season...it was all a blur as it happened so fast...I was only cleaning my rifle when it went off...I was certain my rifle was long since unloaded." Aaand probably the most damning part of my account of things, as I recall, having to admit that foolishly I had recklessly not bothered to take time out to "put the safety on."<br />
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When I ponder at the "why" part of something like this, both unexpected and unlikely and yet certainly blessed, I can only assume that this little interloper is all part of the grand plan that exists for Brenda and myself. Multi-tasking has always came easy to Brenda.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivgzMtEUmkCQLH7wMdq86eYusALlHMG7h4JYTAEInZOnr5b5A9OnKCwa6Gnd7I3yya3ZupB_EAJwSZkokB2sqdcm3PXBsdsmv0ElAbWMkgCudI183m5ACjWZEvbVmVVdaBJjd6L_IuoZ1X/s1600/Multi+Tasking+Mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivgzMtEUmkCQLH7wMdq86eYusALlHMG7h4JYTAEInZOnr5b5A9OnKCwa6Gnd7I3yya3ZupB_EAJwSZkokB2sqdcm3PXBsdsmv0ElAbWMkgCudI183m5ACjWZEvbVmVVdaBJjd6L_IuoZ1X/s1600/Multi+Tasking+Mom.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Re/Max Realtor / Multitasking Mom!</td></tr>
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I just have to have faith that I am up to the challenge too! And like an aging ball player, hope I've done enough stretching and warm up earlier cause it looks like this game might be going into extra innings for us.Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-42006105080799452942013-02-27T14:14:00.000-05:002013-11-30T09:17:47.287-05:00WATER WORRIES!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgszNi7WCqYKqPdd55DlXiQKoB6XpRnsgkcssMs5Z4pXs_C0_APVXDSdHTq-M37WO2SGYZ7Dv7o02HBypjJg1v4-3AHGPBPC7GXculgxfWulEYEl94jV2N-2KMMJeBlC3bOK9wI9srGxioO/s1600/Georgian+Bay+pic1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgszNi7WCqYKqPdd55DlXiQKoB6XpRnsgkcssMs5Z4pXs_C0_APVXDSdHTq-M37WO2SGYZ7Dv7o02HBypjJg1v4-3AHGPBPC7GXculgxfWulEYEl94jV2N-2KMMJeBlC3bOK9wI9srGxioO/s400/Georgian+Bay+pic1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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There's been a lot of talk these days about our great lakes.<br />
There seems to be a heightened awareness that I personally have not witnessed before.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH_wzOWw4GmEI8JdhrdgapIAJ8qEs2-niPDUiCYoEW4CI84ILx5v1kFDEVGQBCqbBHw8cU7J08F2824xz8ETr4oeZgeIISdoE55u4QCD3cR2s80fWxldmvj_LbYxQTRBn5_CDUW-feb36v/s1600/great+lakes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH_wzOWw4GmEI8JdhrdgapIAJ8qEs2-niPDUiCYoEW4CI84ILx5v1kFDEVGQBCqbBHw8cU7J08F2824xz8ETr4oeZgeIISdoE55u4QCD3cR2s80fWxldmvj_LbYxQTRBn5_CDUW-feb36v/s320/great+lakes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Whether its in the news, or at the water cooler, or brought up in meetings at all levels of government; the talk is that we need to preserve these waters as the national treasures that they most surely are.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIdo32DryR6C271VrD1JAgl07GRa8ho2xJh0giDj7ToZUib1a9uOilG63lSUE_t8NTsNa2uL-zo_uPTS0ehd-mnBu90RR7qvNPGxlE06EPgVTwYBaDvhOklRSdyAuA_vx3mh6H8WnvkHwI/s1600/native+people+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIdo32DryR6C271VrD1JAgl07GRa8ho2xJh0giDj7ToZUib1a9uOilG63lSUE_t8NTsNa2uL-zo_uPTS0ehd-mnBu90RR7qvNPGxlE06EPgVTwYBaDvhOklRSdyAuA_vx3mh6H8WnvkHwI/s320/native+people+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
It is something that our native peoples knew to be true long ago. They treasured them in a different way though; as they regarded them and all of nature as something to be revered. The wild inhabitants of the lakes and surrounding lands were worshipped as gods; and the attributes and habits of such creatures were studied and learned from. This is evident in stories and legends passed on through generations of native peoples, explaining everything from their moral values, to natural phenomenon, to even creation itself. I am not looking to seriously comment on religion, or the evolution of man for that matter. However, it occurs to me that these folks had harmoniously coexisted with nature and for the most part thrived for ten thousand years before we showed up....so they had to be doing something right! <br />
Discussions about preservation of the lakes and the quality of their waters invariably lead to debates about water levels, that seem to be in great decline these days.<br />
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Current levels seem to be nearing historic lows and the feeling of most, is that they will continue to decline.<br />
The conventional thinking seems to be that man is responsible.... just as we are, for the decimation of certain fish and wildlife species and loss of wetlands. It would also follow that we are also responsible for the disappearance of hundreds of millions of gallons of water...<br />
Dredging in the St. Lawrence, pipelines to the states and even a theory about a gradual tipping of a huge tectonic plate beneath the great lakes, have been sited as explanations for the low water conditions we are observing today.<br />
I myself have no idea of the causes of this phenomenon, but being in the real estate industry, I have seen first hand the negative influence it's had on Georgian Bay waterfront land values. Putting financial impacts aside, I was always alarmed by the effect it had on the shoreline landscape and its natural inhabitants.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ7tsS6kd_vRsEeTtaJkH8gh1lzo4wVYUH9rxSUuMeStRMZyf-C6QLTizYNUkZFY6gipF2mOLpKOdBEgsUPpuV5NlMVi5xal0CmuRuD5z4qExXOlFJLIlTh33cQ4l9KV-sDCp19MP2a8ex/s1600/Dad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ7tsS6kd_vRsEeTtaJkH8gh1lzo4wVYUH9rxSUuMeStRMZyf-C6QLTizYNUkZFY6gipF2mOLpKOdBEgsUPpuV5NlMVi5xal0CmuRuD5z4qExXOlFJLIlTh33cQ4l9KV-sDCp19MP2a8ex/s320/Dad.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
When drawn into these discussions, my Dad always took the position that these matters were beyond man's influence and that Mother Nature always prevails. He explained that it was nature's way; using the example of something as devastating as a forest fire, that where one species fails, or is destroyed, another will flourish.<br />
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He reminded me that the water levels were this low and lower in 1964, at a time,when surely it could be argued that man's influence on nature <br />
must have been significantly less than today.<br />
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But his best and most thought provoking point was that instead of wondering who took all of the water in the 60's or, in recent years, we should ask ourselves where all the extra water came from in the late 80's (a time I remember well) when water levels were about 5 or 6 feet above datum! Who dumped those extra millions of gallons into our lakes? Was it big shipping business, or those nasty Americans? "No" he said, "again, it's just nature's way. She's all knowing and all powerful. Man can change the face of nature through stupidity and or greed, but nature will always prevail."<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpqXeYk3O1X0RvLaQt8LG1CtLTWdGaH8n3aQgY4IeDGy7pabtsBmkMpFpGYet2ov9C-aEPjZoMivrYJmfZxcgJwbMGGQKkoaGBmKaj798laGDvG8cpxV_6cTX2ZYIe7pDcgo6bNdQ8z4R/s1600/georgian+bay+thunderstorm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinpqXeYk3O1X0RvLaQt8LG1CtLTWdGaH8n3aQgY4IeDGy7pabtsBmkMpFpGYet2ov9C-aEPjZoMivrYJmfZxcgJwbMGGQKkoaGBmKaj798laGDvG8cpxV_6cTX2ZYIe7pDcgo6bNdQ8z4R/s1600/georgian+bay+thunderstorm.jpg" /></a><br />
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One only has to feel the scorching energy of the sun, or witness huge bolts of lightning during a thunderstorm, or see the devastation from flooding, or the winds of a hurricane, or tornado, to imagine the awe that our native peoples must have felt all those years ago.<br />
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Its not a surprise that they believed they were in the presence of a higher power.<br />
The older I get and the more I see us, as a civilization arrogantly making all the wrong choices, in the name of "progress".....I'm beginning to think....that ...maybe they were...<br />
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Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-83723564556411697332013-01-01T13:41:00.000-05:002013-01-03T13:06:53.422-05:00CAUGHT ON CAMERA!Well, we are nearing the end of another successful year. My "everlovin" and I have formed a new business model partnership that has worked out beautifully. Her business strengths mesh perfectly with my own strengths and weaknesses, each of us bringing something to the table, and in turn benefiting from the other. Because of this new partnership, I am once again able to relax and focus on trying to work and live by my old mantra of "working smarter, not harder."<br />
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This particular day's work seems to be largely consisting of compiling and organizing client lists and addresses and filling out Christmas cards with a personal message in each. As I mostly supervise such endevours, with the exception of her allowing me to be in charge of stamp application, I found myself daydreaming as I gazed through the window of our Coldwater Re/Max office at the falling snow.<br />
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The phone rang for me and it was a buddy of mine. Lets call him "Uncle Carl."<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3cHL19Zv6fRDzFDGC0ncc56l8QFtUw0np-Pu8zU3sAJJnc8-rVNyd_ROyByUGOT4KqcYj3IJ8Rn0CUhT-DbEVB7-j8q3NvYX_tcgfG0akWIgz-NQh5Z1DrAR7o3fLyzyWB2dpxKVj4DMe/s1600/036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3cHL19Zv6fRDzFDGC0ncc56l8QFtUw0np-Pu8zU3sAJJnc8-rVNyd_ROyByUGOT4KqcYj3IJ8Rn0CUhT-DbEVB7-j8q3NvYX_tcgfG0akWIgz-NQh5Z1DrAR7o3fLyzyWB2dpxKVj4DMe/s1600/036.jpg" width="320" /></a>After some customary bantering he inquired if I had received a recent email from him? "Yes," I said, referring to the UTube video starring a young lady in a bikini who demonstrated a particular "talent" she had for manipulating her bosoms to the tune of Jingle Bells. I told him I was shocked and a little offended that he would forward something like that to me! "No you fool," he said, "I'm talking about the pictures of the September storm I was in on Gloucester Pool, looking out from Deer Island." "Oh those," I said sheepishly, "Ya, they were great."<br />
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That conversation got me to thinking, first about lively Christmas Carols, but eventually about the year's forays into the "great outdoors," sunny days of ice fishing for pike and pickerel, and soon after that, an awesome overnight trip north of Espanola for "ice out lakers," a couple of days trip portages into a secluded lake to "top water fish" for large mouth, and then there was the late fall adventure up to Gull Lake for rainbows!<br />
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I was idly meandering through the pics associated with each trip, scanning the "thumbnails," matching up pictures with the particular outings they were taken on, when I suddenly noticed something peculiar. At this time I would like to draw your attention to the following three pictures and their captions.<br />
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Carl and a nice large mouth bass!<br />
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Carl hits the jackpot with this big mouthed beauty!<br />
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Carl gets biggest fish prize again!<br />
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Had I not stumbled upon these pics, there's no telling how long he may have gotten away with this clever ruse. It's perfect really, a trained fish that you simply call upon to impress or to perhaps (as the caption suggests) win a bet against the hapless participants of one of his "rigged" fishing derbys. I think that the evidence would suggest that I myself have been fooled, at least three times, by Billy Bass and his trainer, Uncle Carl! Lord knows I have bought the victor of these contests (Carl) more than my share of Wendy's burgers, and now I find out that it's fixed! I told him that I was onto him and that I just wanna know how "Billy" determines which bait is his? His only comment to me was, "Doug...the difference between you and me is that I like to fish "smarter, not harder!"Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-13382615787859631642012-08-28T10:16:00.001-04:002012-08-28T10:16:17.735-04:00OF MICE AND MEN!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The engine roared to life! A fast shift and I was careening across the casino parking lot...a spray of sparks as the car lept the boulevard. Another shift, the tires hit the black top, screaming out their protest. A third shift, as I come off the first curve, the g-force settles me back into the butter-soft leather bucket, and yet another "chirp" where rubber meets road.<br />
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Man and machine, reacting as one, devouring the thin black ribbon of winding road that lay ahead.<br />
A flash of uncertainty...wondering what my nemesis had in store for me next. Then the quiet confidence of my inner voice reminded me of a failed poisoning attempt, and machete wielding assassins that lay in my wake, unsuccessful in dismaying me from my mission.<br />
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Suddenly, another voice, familiar and welcome, yet strangely the tone seemed somehow annoyed. "Doug, Doug!" Not James. The road ahead faded and I found myself awakened in a darkened room, the first hint of daybreak creeping around window blinds.<br />
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"Marvin the cat has something cornered in the bathroom...a mouse...or bat...can't you hear that squeaking noise?" I listened intently, desperate to "not hear" anything and get back to my high performance ride and a night of danger and intrigue protecting "Queen and Country," but alas it was not to be. What I did hear was our teenage daughter Jessie stir, shuffle and sleepily ask Marvin to "scoot" as she made her way to the bathroom. Next came a scream and running footsteps! "A mouse just ran across my foot and into my room! OMG! OMG! Find him! Get him out!" Making my way to her room I wisely asked if she could describe him. "Any distinguishing features?" She was having trouble finding the humour in my request. "Little and grey and creeeeeeeepy," she wailed. "I think he was just a baby and probably hurt by Marvin's teeth and claws." At this point I'm thinking that this is mainly a recovery mission, and Brenda agreed, handing me just a mere napkin to retrieve him with.<br />
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I lay prone on the floor peering under Jessie's bed (the mouse's last known whereabouts). Gently probing through the typical teenage debris, when suddenly a flash of grey from within a discarded chip bag, and he was up and running right for me. Since mice are not normally man eaters, I can only assume that he was racing toward more sanctuary, and since he was grey, I'm sure the grey head before him seemed like perfect cover! A scuffle ensued, profanity's exclaimed, and mouse and man abruptly parted ways.<br />
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My sudden and hurried retreat from under the bed must have been less than graceful, but since the girls were screaming and running from the site of the attack, I think any squeamish or fearful behaviour on my part went largely unnoticed.<br />
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This was no injured baby mouse! This was a full grown adult male in his prime, full of vigor and fury! Not wanting to face the beast in an all out "him or me" confrontation, I decided to beat him at his own game, the very reason that he invaded our home, his quest for food. We generally keep a mouse trap set in the cold room this time of year, a kind of an early warning sentinel should our perimeter be breached (it seems to be the point of entry for the occasional interloper). But this being early in the year, and the creature so brazen as to make his way to the sleeping quarters of our troops, I decided a multi-pronged "shock and awe" retaliation best suited the circumstances.<br />
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I carefully planted the one trap from the cold room in Jessie's room, baited it with a piece of chewy good candy, and set off to the hardware store to buy more of the same. I guess the exertion of his struggles with "Marvin the Mouser," and his brief meeting with me under the bed, made this little fellow a bit peckish, because upon my return from the hardware store, there he was, bug-eyed and quite dead in the trap I had just set! A quick and decisive victory was mine!<br />
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Now I admit that this adventure pales next to anything that Ian Fleming could dream up in a book, or that I could conger up in a lucid dream, but it was still man and machine against a villain. Reality had me battling a little grey mouse with a $2 trap, while my dreams usually have me pitted against a super villain in a $190,000 Aston Martin. I suppose the theory is the same. "Shaken, not stirred? Yes, of course, as you wish, Mr. Moreau."Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-12400873955565495902012-06-20T16:12:00.000-04:002012-06-20T16:33:28.549-04:00A TALE OF TWO LAKERS!<br />
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">It was a sunny, early May afternoon as I recall. My partner
Brenda and I were diligently absorbed in the matters of real
estate sales (well that's how I remember it anyway). I must have momentarily looked up and away from my desktop, perhaps to unkink my work weary neck, when I caught a glimpse through the window of a somewhat weathered fishin' cap above a somewhat weathered face directly over an "Old Guys Rule" sweatshirt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">After some polite exchanges and inquiries as to how
Brenda was doing, there was of course, the usual sympathetic words
about the trials she must face with not only having a business
partner like me, but puttin' up with yours truly at home as
well. Carl's conversation eventually swung from an indepth analysis of my work ethic (or lack thereof) to the weather, to fishing, to fishing stories, to a fishing story about "this time of year" a couple of years back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">It was an intriguing story about what Carl called "ice out
lakers." It seems that "these very days" each year there exists
the exact conditions on a lake up north required to put massive lake trout
"on the bite," as Carl would say. He then casually produced a set
of fishing regulations, which he just happened to have, and low and
behold there was just such a specimen of that exact species on the front
cover! It was at that moment that I realized that it was Carl that was on "the bite!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I sat back and watched the master as he navigated the
conversation from when is it that Doug actually works a full day, to when
was it that the poor boy had a couple days off, to the inception of the idea
that a couple of days right now would serendipitously coincide with "ice
out lakers."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I forget just who said what, or who's idea it was, or if there was
any begging involved on my part, but my "everlovin" graciously
volunteered to take care of things in my absence, and the next day found Carl
and I in his Dodge Ram, boat in tow, headed north, grinning like a couple of
Cheshire Cats!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Now, day one of the expedition went good, maybe too good. The trip
up and subsequent launch of the boat went off without a hitch.
The boat ran like a dream! The "skipper," well, as the song
goes, "he was brave and sure."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">One reason he was so sure of himself was that he once
owned a camp on this lake, so the place was right, the time was
right, he knew the shore to troll and the depth and speed to be
at. I had my first fish on before I figured out the correct use of the downriggers! The next hour of that beautiful, sunny day brought three more lakers, each one larger than the last!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Such quick success, of course, brings arrogance in even
the most modest of men, so the decision was made early on that today would
be all "catch and release" and tomorrow we would keep one each,
and in this way I could keep my promise to bring one home for Brenda. I doubt if she truly cared, but the idea stirred an instinct deep within my male psyche that I must hunt/fish and provide much the same as my male retriever "must" find a discarded plastic bottle before returning home each day from our morning foray! He doesn't need a plastic bottle any more than I needed the fish! And I don't mean to compare myself exactly to a 100 lb. canine, after all I am taller and have somewhat better manners and hygiene, well hygiene anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">A truly charmed day came to an end that evening at the motel when
all of the fresh air, excitement and enthusiasm of the day, coupled with a
couple of celebratory refreshments, eased me into a deep restful sleep, the
kind of sleep that sounds a lot like a McCulloch chainsaw chewing through a
hard piece of oak. At least that's what I'm told anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The next day came, and with it, the anticipation of easy
victory, but despite our best efforts, the effects of a cold front moving
through could not be denied. There was a heavy chop on the water, a relentless
wind that buffeted our boat making trolling speed erratic, and even a big
sturdy boat like our trusty Legend lurch and list. The rains came in just as we wisely pulled the boat from the water and began our journey home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Recalling the experience now, we had an awesome time, one that I'm certain is not experienced by many. I'm thankful for that! And in the end I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't get to hoist a couple of "lakers."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6KHgxS9RESH51vsyWt5o_tdeklE3JQVCItuIqagqylFC2-ykz2ukzyB-pgBo9WmxZQ-uyxf7ABEp-n2NEwrEGXSRHc8oWOxN0kTlGHIXCwseSrEhSPisI7ilofEz3kKHaHZrbXr2_UCJ/s1600/DSCF0231.JPG"><span style="color: blue; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%; text-decoration: none;"></span></a></span></div>Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-31862983884050822152012-04-26T14:13:00.004-04:002015-05-07T13:58:45.675-04:00BRAKING POINTS!As a younger man, I recall finding the value in a job well done, the completion of a task, the satisfaction of repairing one's own possession's, with nothing but the most basic of tools, a little know how, a lot of ingenuity and an abundance of free time. All of this, coupled with a near complete absence of funds, made me a DYI guy rather than have someone far more qualified do the job right! As far as car repair goes I suppose I've done my share.<br />
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One of my earliest solo endeavors would have been the time I changed a set of springs at the age of 16 on a car that was at least 16 itself. This, of course, was done in the front yard of my Dad's house armed with just the most basic of tools and youthful enthusiasm on my side. The car was a Pontiac Stratochief. I, of course, called it "The Stratollac," reckoning, I guess, that people might confuse it for a Cadillac.<br />
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I bought her for $75.00 out of the back yard of an older couple (in those days that meant 40+ years) from Victoria Harbour. Inexplicably they had left her there to languish! There was little wrong with that car that a bit of mechanical repair and a lot of "bondo" and fibreglass couldn't fix. By the time I was done grinding and patching, both rear quarter panels from back door to tail lights were "of my own creation." The resultant weight, and possibly my "spring repair job," made her a "low rider." I was truly ahead of my time and didn't know it!<br />
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A perhaps less than thorough, but much appreciated safety check by a friend of a friend, and a form of insurance known as "unsatisfied judgment," and I was driving! I loved that old car, and it loved me back. Sure, we had our occasional spats, but I learned that she just needed a little more attention than some. Fluid levels, performance loss, and faint but recurring noises, were not to be ignored. The plans of an enjoyable evening could be squashed at a moments notice if she sensed the slightest indifference from you! Sound familiar, fellas?<br />
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Anyyyways...back to cars. As we all know, getting and keeping a car "on the road" is a little more complicated than that these days! Speaking of these days...it was just the other day that we were discussing the need for some brake work to be done on my wife's car when my stepson Jeff mentioned that he had done lots of that sort of thing all the time on cars during an auto mechanics class in high school.<br />
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That's when I felt that pesky "youthful enthusiasm" well up in me and I found myself suggesting that we just take care of the job ourselves in the front yard! Just like the ole days, eh! We checked the weather and tomorrow's promise was a mostly sunny six degree day, which sounded not bad if you didn't think too deeply into the effects of windchill and how much gusts of 35km/hr would influence the atmosphere on the ground, under a car next to ten acres of open fairgrounds.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwPaIogQwpMcjwHvTFANKb5db-XwaVmd_5W1b3acLpMKCtvTYeeN94SxC4xpdBCh5cOAhycfG8j0MJ35wJ871z5EIXn4_LQW5y_PgO7CjCj0aBhCorTcmrfIQ39Kw_kJPdnTmF0ebh9Dsk/s1600/marines_in_sandstorm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwPaIogQwpMcjwHvTFANKb5db-XwaVmd_5W1b3acLpMKCtvTYeeN94SxC4xpdBCh5cOAhycfG8j0MJ35wJ871z5EIXn4_LQW5y_PgO7CjCj0aBhCorTcmrfIQ39Kw_kJPdnTmF0ebh9Dsk/s320/marines_in_sandstorm.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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By the time we finished that "little brake job" Jeff was near his "braking point." Frozen fingers struggled to disassemble and reassemble cold steel objects as the long hours had passed, lying in what was becoming a sand dune around the car. We had sand in nearly every orifice (boxers had nothin' on briefs that day). Through grit filled eyes, a grimace on his face, and a single tear on his sand stained cheek, Jeff compared this ordeal to changing a track on a tank on the roadside in Afghanistan.<br />
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I marvelled at how he could make that comparison since most of his battle experience, that I know of, has been leading combat missions against Taliban strongholds from the comfort of my couch in our rec room, using only his thumbs to wreak havoc on the enemy!<br />
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As the car was finally nearing road worthiness once again, we pondered the degree of difficulties we had encountered. My suggestion was to blame the weather, but Jeff said that the trouble was due to the fact that he was not used to working on "older" cars! Huh? We bought this thing in 2008!! How friggin' new were these cars that you worked on? And how was it that they needed brake work?<br />
Twentysomethings today all feel that "newer" is somehow better, and feel entitled to have all new things. This is totally foreign thinking to me! Especially when it comes to vehicles! <br />
Everyone knows that it takes at least a decade of use before a car or truck fully develops it's character. Just take, for example, my dear old "Stratollac"...<br />
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<br />Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-21586129691203729922011-11-18T13:55:00.007-05:002015-05-07T13:59:19.043-04:00NEW OFFICE LOCATION!<div align="center">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KBXVboIMFxf_AGqfHSIzqioFpTF5WclAD6zSpuaRRPddAvRWQPEfH2j_4Cow9TVM7sAGjoiUVhTcMTk7tz8oT1ijubIZeoaUglptjtc-uxoNdpTFagixFtffn_XIZpxhd-nAJ1KOBLfJ/s1600/15+COLDWATER+ROAD,+COLDWATER+(REMAX)+(6).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KBXVboIMFxf_AGqfHSIzqioFpTF5WclAD6zSpuaRRPddAvRWQPEfH2j_4Cow9TVM7sAGjoiUVhTcMTk7tz8oT1ijubIZeoaUglptjtc-uxoNdpTFagixFtffn_XIZpxhd-nAJ1KOBLfJ/s320/15+COLDWATER+ROAD,+COLDWATER+(REMAX)+(6).JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
COME VISIT US AT OUR WARM AND COZY NEW OFFICE ON THE SUNNY SIDE OF THE STREET. WE ARE NOW AT 15 COLDWATER ROAD, COLDWATER (FORMERLY BODY ESSENTIALS).</div>
Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-32916126041003106042011-02-22T17:53:00.025-05:002012-02-11T14:08:43.691-05:00FEBRUARY MEMORIES!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0puJKj29H_EYbuRAQ770O5qt1ad6WEO_0p8dPOFZiBiwBXGM75TLJtNyKG-30ckshDFKMSb9XMf9_DQTl4Xhp0RGwfSAga0sMnbEfxGsFCeATqrDTmdctt-sILGvCYH60_ZZF9sIxB_bd/s1600/Winter+Trip+to+cottage+011.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589919655348524066" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0puJKj29H_EYbuRAQ770O5qt1ad6WEO_0p8dPOFZiBiwBXGM75TLJtNyKG-30ckshDFKMSb9XMf9_DQTl4Xhp0RGwfSAga0sMnbEfxGsFCeATqrDTmdctt-sILGvCYH60_ZZF9sIxB_bd/s400/Winter+Trip+to+cottage+011.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a> <br />
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A frigid February morning...6 a.m....temperature hovering at -20. The dog bounds ahead then excitedly circles back, as if to say, "isn't this the best day ever?" </div>
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His happiness is partly due to youth and exuberance, and partly due to the " live in the moment" wisdom possessed only by a canine, that "indeed, every day is the best day ever."</div>
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His breath hangs suspended, ghostlike around his muzzle, that even now shows signs of "whisker frost," illuminated as we pass beneath a nearby street light. </div>
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As we begin the serious business of our morning "coyote patrol," my steps make that familiar crunch of snow under foot that is only heard on mornings such as this one.</div>
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Immediately my mind's eye is catapulted back 10 years to a similar morning.</div>
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As I walk down the hill, my old dog Manci in tow, I look up to see the kitchen window light on welcoming me. The front door is ajar, I enter, then drop my old green jacket by the door. </div>
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On cue, Manci curls up there on my coat and settles in for a snooze (at 12 or 13 years she seems to do a lot of that!).</div>
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My coffee is on the table waiting for me. Dad stands at the counter. His teaspoon rattles it's early morning tune on the side of his cup as he stirs honey into his. Silence otherwise.</div>
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"Toast?"...is his one word question. Still facing the counter, he curses the honey for it's grip on his spoon. I whisper, "Oh well, guess if it's good for ya it's worth the effort, eh!"</div>
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"Once we're settled in the shack, think I'll take a run up towards the "light house," see if I can't scare up pickerel there." </div>
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Charley Tucker was saying, "there's no ice up there." No response...just two last taps of the spoon and the crunch of a piece of toast being bitten into.</div>
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I had no real worry for him, as he was well aware of ice conditions and had fished that lake all his life, knowing where the currents ran and where the shoals wore the ice from beneath.</div>
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Two hours later found me staring down at the bottom of Georgian Bay through an augured hole in the relative darkness of Dad's fish shack. I could hear the soft "woumph" of snow hitting the base of the shack as Dad "banked" the sides, darkening the interior and improving my view.</div>
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The door swung open, blasting light into my "fortress of solitude." "Jesus that's bright," Dad's grinning face appeared, his snowmobile suit blocking the door somewhat. </div>
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"Well," I said, in a challenging tone (mimicking Dad's tendency towards "one word questions").</div>
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"Well, yourself." "What were you doin here?" I shook my head in silent resignation, no longer taunting "the big dog."</div>
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Having dealt with me...he decided to respond. "Me, aaauhh, I didn't get to where I wanted." "Fella would have to pernt-near troll up there!" We both laughed. </div>
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589919053682616386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXzAyeqJvzqbuoVjDiDKB_hHPnol3Ohcdwsa4HgyIqO-3LJnHmZsm4-74x9JUQ2VNaqNfbCuPssm5ZnMq3RQ0XJYznVMd5_Y5oxw3sx3PrmWZrqBxJ1pLWlRjubZgPU3wYRfFYljVDHMA/s400/Dad.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 361px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /> <br />
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In my mind it's like that was yesterday, yet in reality Dad will have been gone a full decade next year.</div>
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He is often in my dreams, just one of a group of people in an ordinary conversation, always looking healthy, always I seem to be the only one that thinks it's strange that he's there!</div>
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I find myself staring at him stupidly, til he turns to me.</div>
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I ask, "Why are you here?" He says, "Huh?"</div>
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I say, "Well...what are you doing here?" He says, "Well, yourself, what are YOU doin here!" I smile and think I just got told again by "the big dog." (Something I like to call myself these days when dealing with today's young lads.)</div>
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</div>Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-88832598524419056222010-12-14T14:26:00.049-05:002012-02-11T14:09:03.855-05:00LEADING BY BAD EXAMPLE!"Gonna document this whole weekend!" said my nephew Nick from the back seat of my trusty 12 yr old Ford pick up. "Should I just take pics of interesting stuff to pace myself, or just keep snappin?" I began to carefully explain to him the correct operating procedures and that the four batteries must be loaded into my camera in a very specific way (one that seemed always to elude me on my first two or three attempts) when my eyes were met with a blinding flash ricocheting off the rear view mirror...hence he had his first picture! Thanks to some protection from my new polarized fishing glasses, and my NASCAR like reflexes, I managed to complete a sharp curve in the road (with one eye closed).<br />
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559168347105378226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAR4KLr5v5fejalMckDN7qpOzKWBHKm_VZAJg_Hu7Eh_JbQY8I2jk7180VWmitJ8OHr7Ax1MPRAjih_MWp1Id5WMHfFyZXSjoiNyNC5DVyO8mMUHQMw-rAG-XDvXO6WrpApvK9UGO0q7HT/s400/Nick+and+Eric+at+the+Cottage+Oct+2010+003.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" />As the giant blue spots in the middle of my vision began to fade I was relieved to see that my boat was still in tow and the fishtailing had subsided nicely. With the crisis handled, I thought I'd delight the young fellas with a riveting "old days" account of how "driving with one eye closed" meant something completely different during the 70's. Met with blank stares, looks of disbelief and disdain, I realized that these "children of the 90's" found no humour in a cavalier attitude toward that kind of thing...no matter what the year was. Driving in silence...me with my thoughts, they with their I-pods, I wondered how young Nick had managed to load and fire off a picture so fast on a camera that had never before been in his hands? Hmmm...beginners luck?<br />
As I later discovered, the tone had just been set for the weekend. In the front seat, riding shotgun, another nephew of mine, Eric, was examining and marvelling (I'm sure) at the many features of this 1999 F150. "What's that whistling noise from the top of my door?...how fast does this thing go?...where's your CD player?...how come the rpm gauge shot up and there was a grinding noise from underneath and she gave that awful shudder just now?" "Well Eric, that's all part of the Ford's high performance towing package! Sure, them new ones rrrr a little smoother, if ya like that kinda thing, but this ole girl will get us there!" (A promise that at least did not "set the bar too high.") I pointed out the cassette player, inquiring if they had any "tapes" on them, but then let the subject drift off, resisting the urge to tell them how it used to be 8-tracks and high beam dimmers on the floor, I sensed they were impressed enough for now.<br />
The launch of my boat went pretty routine...me just getting one wet foot rather than both, and a minor incident involving a wildly spinning winch handle and a young man's thumb...the usual stuff. Starting the boat, however, was another matter. She's a 16' Lund powered by a 50hp two stroke Merc, boat and motor perfectly balanced, weight and hull design to power, it operates like a dream, cutting through and planing out til there's "just the prop in the water!" (Dad used to say.) Now, it's no secret that I take every opportunity to brag about this boat, and of course today was no exception, so when I discovered that the battery was dead I was a little embarrassed and mildly disappointed at this temporary glitch. The young fellas, on the other hand, were devastated! "Oh no, now what?...I guess that's it then...should we just go home...well, what are you gonna do?...do you have CAA?...is there a "guy" you can call?" The last question stung!! Is there a "guy" I can call?!!! "Why is it these days our first response to any adversity is to call "the guy"...the TV guy...the plumbing guy...the furnace guy...I could go on," I told them, but as it turns out...I AM the guy!!! "I thought we were all guys here!" Is this not a "guys" weekend?<br />
I'm not sure when it became "out of fashion" to be handy but somehow it has. We seem to feel the need to pay "the guy" rather than solve life's little problems on our own. These young men were about to witness a "handyman" in action. One minute to remove the cowl...two minutes to find a suitable pull cord...two manual pulls of the cord and we were on our way! (Chalk one up for Uncle Doug. Old guys rule!)<br />
Upon arrival at the cottage, I did discover that the young lads were actually handy as well. You know...when it came to toting coolers and heavy gear up a hill, there's nobody handier than young bucks with a strong backs encouraged by a crafty elder like myself putting them against each other in feats of strength. ("Look at that...Nick is carrying a propane tank in each hand and a heavy bag of groceries in his teeth!) (Chalk one up for the boys.)<br />
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559168060102866066" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqnR9FodipZTUjcmrfR4bTbocUVkNz8opz_IK5e6NcW3vMuKcLVHBtohGgGzblpCUMG4aLQQZI-dC1rgCLi785rZrcSTqjcJeOH6_yACHJXZGFhTl-gfw9wAy3ecpz6yS5O6sRSQoHhR9q/s320/Nick+and+Eric+at+the+Cottage+Oct+2010+042.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" />That afternoon and evening was of course uneventful. I believe we did have guests for dinner. An assortment of gentlemen gathered, as men sometimes do when there is talk of a "guy's weekend,"an unofficial "pot luck dinner" was assembled, and as I recall there were plenty of refreshments on hand as well. The later part of the evening brought lively and spirited political and philosophical debate amongst some of my colleagues gathered around the fire. As the intensity of the debate grew, it seemed to flow and eventually move to an indoor venue...closer to the bar! As I said, the evening was uneventful, meaning there was no furniture broken, and no one required medical attention.<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559167715478237154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinQuMa8Lc_jDGpuNakPQqKV6794Twg8Z3U0Q0CXUVny_dlKuLEA5ForQtHhHs_SoXFDOMNW10tK1Nq2gfPVYqlVdRljBfDUMH2CVfGQYf3s53T2ZJ5FaPp0Qu4cRoEes9JGyA6a-lw5bt6/s320/Nov+09+at+the+cottage+017.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /> While fishing the next morning with Nick, I generously took some time to coach the lad, demonstrating correct casting, presentation, hook setting and landing. Purposefully I saw to it that the subject of the lesson was a small, unobtrusive speciman, so as not to unduly excite my pupil and have him distracted from my teachings.<br /><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559161370244062818" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq0OA9kbjEtVqJRPdcSy3DMLSKT4DL4ljEcqTYY3hb8egFQsYnD-hRDM5VSRyWsqfC7434fvV2oKgx9d59ObUrJoYL-tvSHvZHKkFz74GRotRXpcUYHiDswXl9qFEfcB6xxQEs0o-iFBDB/s320/Nick+and+Eric+at+the+Cottage+Oct+2010+046.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" />As it turned out, much like the earlier lesson involving the camera, the lad seemed to pick up complicated instruction from me pretty quick! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xhkWARXDY1-DJ1m7uu7PxXaYi3JiesSv1wKXApuI38s07qRopLFuvYhmjp9tMtZR94CGNHXwd7TzYH776jseuuU1UisviRJInJVo9XN2LuU2E3-OnWzcA3erN6C51Ef_MqQKieB2eyfM/s1600/Nick%2527s+Pike.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559159881277097074" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xhkWARXDY1-DJ1m7uu7PxXaYi3JiesSv1wKXApuI38s07qRopLFuvYhmjp9tMtZR94CGNHXwd7TzYH776jseuuU1UisviRJInJVo9XN2LuU2E3-OnWzcA3erN6C51Ef_MqQKieB2eyfM/s320/Nick%2527s+Pike.JPG" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 195px;" /></a><br />Further outdoor life enlightenment that morning included how NOT TO run the boat up on a shoal, lose your paddle in the mud pushing the boat off the shoal, and of course getting your unattended line caught in the prop!<br /><br />In my defense, because of bright morning sunlight and a "pickerel chop" on the water's surface, the shoal was virtually invisable to the naked eye...and I had somehow, uncharacteristically mislaid my new polarized fishing glasses during the previous evening's engagements.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I have since investigated the disapearance of the glasses, and a chronological review of photos taken during the weekend revealed the following evidence...<br /><br /><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559157128754897906" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8faNhdoAwlmNwt40K9yiPVQc-3bwtut1ebrNhjfZkc0X2_ZA1jpmEWkxawmXe6MBl0aQONJAfq7DoVNBaD1HGuxmur1lNntQOO1iTo8uLTvLJlRMPsU4ntT62ADV5XBzuSH96hQPFC6O9/s320/Jack+with+shades1.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 241px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 321px;" />Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-67150715196004707172010-12-01T09:55:00.036-05:002012-02-11T14:09:28.648-05:00SWORN TO SECRECY!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcWFYYQpq17CTV6hkzN8J4vGROn8gSLZIALxyki-qQzbkuGcp4lQod-nRZLT0b7EVETn8dW7RNBAmeFJOfYCU7PE8zyWf34ZoyLOY0B9FsBogCxG12zE-moSk3T3zvrDjPtBaUyx7Ph3cl/s1600/Doug%2527s+Pike.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546494614943039554" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcWFYYQpq17CTV6hkzN8J4vGROn8gSLZIALxyki-qQzbkuGcp4lQod-nRZLT0b7EVETn8dW7RNBAmeFJOfYCU7PE8zyWf34ZoyLOY0B9FsBogCxG12zE-moSk3T3zvrDjPtBaUyx7Ph3cl/s320/Doug%2527s+Pike.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 240px;" /></a>Recently I had the good fortune to be invited on a fishing day trip by a buddy of mine to a "sure thing," "can't miss," "fish r lined up ta bite" hot spot; known to very few anglers.<br />
"Known to very few" is somewhat of an understatement...so shrouded in secrecy is its location, that I am obliged strictly to never speak of the name of the lake it's in, town the lake's near, or city that neighbours for that matter!<br />
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<li>To protect the innocent (me); lets just say it exists within the province of Ontario and leave it at that!</li>
<li>Carl...lets call him (could be fictitious/could be a real name) is very protective of his treasured fishing grounds...so much so that even a highly trusted professional colleague and friend such as myself is allowed there only with the greatest reluctance and angst on his part.</li>
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<li>"My God!" must think Carl, "what if that fool tells someone!" Like in a moment of moral weakness to "massage a deal together" with a client who's a fishing enthusiast..."damn him...I could see him doing that." All could be lost!</li>
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I know this of course would never happen...and yet...there's always telltale signs of a fella's underlying worry, like for instance it's been just the last couple trips without the blindfold...an excessive measure, I pointed out, and somewhat reckless since I was often the driver!!<br />
During one expedition last year I thought I caught a look of relief and satisfaction flash across his face when I complained that "they changed the @!$#&* highway again...I don't know where the hell we are now."<br />
I speculate now, that Carl may have been given an idea that day, as a result of my confusion with changes to ramps, exits and entrances... <br />
On subsequent trips up I found that we never seemed to take the same route in twice, and our way out was always under cover of darkness, him relating colourful stories to me to hold my attention and distract me, and my keen sense of direction.<br />
Once when we arrived, I was astonished to find during my absence he had built an entirely new private road leading in, complete with white knuckle, hairpin corners, treacherously steep blind hills and various forks in the road, leading to dead ends; or off the property all together to an unneighbourly neighbour's house! (Most folks in these parts favour large guard dogs and firearms over "Alarm Force Security Systems." "No need for a "stern voice" on the telephone telling you "the police are on their way.") You cross the wrong local in an isolated area like that and you'll only wish "the police are on their way."<br />
All this subterfuge, in an effort to disorient and confuse even the most persistent interloping sport fisherman!<br />
When/if one eventually makes it to the cabin, they are greeted by the sight of a small, yet perfect little cottage, perched amongst the pines overlooking a scenic pathway down to the lake.<br />
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546469755113332882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXhGIpEBkOY-Z7bLBHCIvs9RwO-I1pSVH-3STaArrZpdjw1QsBcCPYwxneBBvNDlNz8kqPkCYd-9kgz3ZMn_7V3YGgoaqrMz-6DwtUmEi686yQp2qV2fA_tNv-04slx7GVDQWDNRd2lj6/s320/Carl%2527s+Cabin.+001.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /> <br />
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Glimpses of sun sparkled waters through wind rustled branches beckon you, as you descend closer toward the shore...and ultimately Carl's sacred fishing grounds. <br />
Arriving at the shore we set about bailing the water from Carl's favourite fishing boat!...a large steel hulled "behemoth of a craft" built for utility rather than creature comforts, capable, I'm sure of carrying great amounts of cargo, and as it turns out...two hundred gallons of rainwater!!<br />
After 26 minutes of two old guys in the classic crouched bailing position and then another 10 minutes or so to recover the circulation in our legs and back pain to subside before we could both straighten up to a full standing position we set off in "the Red Green boat" as he likes to call her.<br />I'm not sure if the name is some reference to our "champion of the outdoor adventure" or simply because it is red and green...<br />
<ul><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546468995758914946" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdWI1Ac7WlXdI9Nv26urOJlQuPKWDvHqbJCSH7NYSuGkl6Www26R8R8pyVrSmnjRsigwupypdl95sqcV9BXPzk4Ztrq2uMYt5TUlluZVD3MQBmKsydijUlv9xMACDV6wWRI3LoXPtF7r5d/s320/Carl_goes_fishing.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" /></ul>
The reward for all of our efforts and Carl's reluctant trust in me was a truly enjoyable angling experience featuring "plenty of fish" (no, no, not the social networking site, young yuppie types tend to frequent).<br />
We caught fish from most, if not all of the indigenous species...some "singles" (uh, again no reference to any website) and double headers as well.<br />
<ul><br /><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546468992050086050" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcWqXeWoHP3jkdN-7wbimOhnz8Q96As03sh69bn-Llpu5Yk810sniy6EqSy-whn-Kw0yBwrmHKtJyl4s3XbkRbbtdedXjTeq28MA7i456dnbnKkIOfF2oGAB-Rd9c6fplh9zLSdceriICY/s320/Pike+fishing1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /><br /></ul>
Truly...the fish were lining up to bite!<br />
Of course out of customary respect for my host and he being the elder; it was necessary for me to let Carl catch a few more fish than I...no sense risking no invite back, just to prove my prowess as the superior sportsman. <br />
And...after a day like that...Carl's secret is safe with me!Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-77723206068965145832010-11-18T09:33:00.011-05:002015-05-07T13:59:42.030-04:00LAND SNAKES ALIVE!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOYXHuxz5Kao-XOE9RVUKOnLPhX9Hv7bGFb73Y88HEN5rzeg-_Yp2UFuVCwAjWpVxGJl4BBGbOXouxL4jm1ESj1OGolylEIrWVbxiUixXR_xYTHRnlyoAPz7ELmW2WOA7lqszGA5IoZj0w/s1600/Marr+Lane.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540913627384521874" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOYXHuxz5Kao-XOE9RVUKOnLPhX9Hv7bGFb73Y88HEN5rzeg-_Yp2UFuVCwAjWpVxGJl4BBGbOXouxL4jm1ESj1OGolylEIrWVbxiUixXR_xYTHRnlyoAPz7ELmW2WOA7lqszGA5IoZj0w/s320/Marr+Lane.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px;" /></a>Mid June this year found me and Lisa another agent, busy as usual, and on this particular day doing a bit of rock climbing.<br />
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The rock climbing was necessary to get the best pictures and best road and boat access exposure of our signs at a brand new listing.</div>
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The property we were listing was a road access vacant lot on the Trent Severn Waterway at Marr Lane (just east of Big Chute).</div>
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The landscape in that area is rugged yet beautiful.</div>
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As usually is the case, it consists of steep outcroppings of granite with pines clinging precariously on ledges or with their roots wedged firmly into deep narrow crevices carved by an advancing/retreating glacier ages ago. </div>
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Clinging precariously to those above mentioned pines were two fearless Remax agents, abandoning thoughts of their own personal safety in pursuit of providing the highest level of service to their client...that sounds right, eh?</div>
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While that pretty accurately describes Lisa; I on the other hand was watching intently, from a safe plateau...shouting out encouragements and reminding her to "be careful, for God's sake."</div>
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If she lost her footing and fell I would be forced to formulate a plan and mount a rescue attempt and I; in my usual "cottage country realtor" uniform of "sandals and shorts" was not dressed appropriately for any of this...besides...she had my new drill with her! </div>
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After signs were mounted and pictures taken and during her assent up the steep rock outcropping from the water's edge to the relative safety of level ground where I awaited, she discovered something...</div>
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That something was that it was not only I that was watching...</div>
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There was a rattlesnake lounging lazily on the same ledge that she had just traversed on her way down!!<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540928685382719954" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw5ZXl_R3uLzuS6af-7qbuYlpUlssv4LEUNCdf_AqCb68Szq6jv-ubmkCJ2rV7qKRazeUGJ-Z6iW6Aaooj0QHRCY8H6qsCzkN87j13CWAubd0EVR8tlBvrKL5iMtqxIWa0ImiuEC-CalaE/s320/Rattlesnake+encounter..jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></div>
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He/she/it never moved and seemed completely docile, content to watch her progress.</div>
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Even as she unknowingly approached it on her return the snake did not show signs of fear or malice for that matter...hardly the monster depicted in movies and pop culture!</div>
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I was quick to point out that, since Lisa was already in danger and the snake seemed obliged to pose, she may as well get some pictures!!</div>
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After his photo shoot the snake went back to sunning itself on the rock and taking a slightly different route, Lisa returned, unharmed, but a little shaken by the encounter.</div>
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"All in a days work"...I guess that's easy for me to say, eh?</div>
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Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-1349300735422385282010-04-14T10:58:00.026-04:002015-05-07T13:59:59.048-04:00SPRING CLEANING!There's an expression that goes "Spring has Sprung" but we seem to have sprung right into summer.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrR9mdcujyZicYXR2feIXI3kzHPF3zM3nCismMtpsURC3xN70Pv6g9Dzqw950o6v_sqFoyHDFARE5wiPCLBkQp2zgGzrsYYkNaiN85qAycbr2gKfsYZ3ayvTpk4_jMoLx_CuRm8MzeP3Y/s1600/lot+pics+for+Mike+005.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463406859389715810" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrR9mdcujyZicYXR2feIXI3kzHPF3zM3nCismMtpsURC3xN70Pv6g9Dzqw950o6v_sqFoyHDFARE5wiPCLBkQp2zgGzrsYYkNaiN85qAycbr2gKfsYZ3ayvTpk4_jMoLx_CuRm8MzeP3Y/s400/lot+pics+for+Mike+005.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 400px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 300px;" /></a><br />
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I cannot recently recall a spring that started this early and consistently brought good weather....perhaps too good, as the dry conditions have prompted fire bans everywhere.<br />
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The up side is I am way ahead on my spring cleaning....which translates into me getting the boat in the water sooner.....which of course to me, is a "good thing" both for business and as well the pure pleasure of an early spring boat ride!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJB-u6TiXK2F4xwTqOg9ycWHX8R0wzfxeLfqdm3wDk5_4Lvt6j_C8EHkEGIpXWXTDKHtYhztrqyl7uOZn8dCCK1_kA7oGoNiPqKQLkFpPs38ob5H_x_beFfQ30oN2FQ7HojAl2iBqhmylR/s1600/wai-nant-kiche-aun+5.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463407131602809026" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJB-u6TiXK2F4xwTqOg9ycWHX8R0wzfxeLfqdm3wDk5_4Lvt6j_C8EHkEGIpXWXTDKHtYhztrqyl7uOZn8dCCK1_kA7oGoNiPqKQLkFpPs38ob5H_x_beFfQ30oN2FQ7HojAl2iBqhmylR/s400/wai-nant-kiche-aun+5.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 300px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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With my clean up around the homestead completed by the last week of March; I set out on my first trip of the season on the historically earliest date.....ever... of March 31st.<br />
The weather was excellent, the boat ran great, and aside from keeping our eyes open for ice and floating logs, it was relaxing and enjoyable.<br />
A friend of mine, Keith Nummelin and I went up and previewed a property in Lost Channel, just around the corner from my place and managed to stop in and reattach my dock on the way back.....(a yearly task, best handled by two)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyn_ZL1SiuNn70fVQ2UdrfHbRZet5IjG5ox2RPRcGdMOxVcIfhmkAmK7jS45FnH4m8T3maOFrt5uhdq-Io23X3CP2yo5ILZBO7lG78KBwRRx1KXV6e7aQGhlUAvMyn8J_J3x0hr8mwlBFa/s1600/Early+April+April+At+The+Cottage.+008.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463408772354051202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyn_ZL1SiuNn70fVQ2UdrfHbRZet5IjG5ox2RPRcGdMOxVcIfhmkAmK7jS45FnH4m8T3maOFrt5uhdq-Io23X3CP2yo5ILZBO7lG78KBwRRx1KXV6e7aQGhlUAvMyn8J_J3x0hr8mwlBFa/s400/Early+April+April+At+The+Cottage.+008.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 300px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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I could not believe the ease with which we travelled along, on the basically, open water....when just days ago it was impossible to even enter Lost channel!.....That's how fast it went!...I guess thanks to temps in the high 20's each of those days.<br />
My next trip up was just days later; to meet with clients and preview yet another boat access cottage. This time I brought along some young fellas, that "volunteered" to clean up winter debris and cut some wood at my place....having swam, barbecued, partied, and used my boat "the shenanigans" (aptly named) all last summer....I thought it was a reasonable request on my part.<br />
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Turns out, I was a long while getting back from my appointment and of course leaving the boys to their own devices meant little got done...but what the heck I was young once too.....<br />
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You know..... "Hey the boss man's gone!...shut r down...."smoke em if ya got em"!!!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKfnrpHo_hw9GUgcyHx1KfQ1ja8ilxxZygreDphKURcO5b7K-v2FYuWXgXdrJL8JuGeK-yrGPKJZwAZHBtDgp9rhbx-Aj_pKAKvUkU4swEe95GQZ5-R9sr-gVfNwf4PYG3dSDtv1K_LPew/s1600/Early+April+April+At+The+Cottage.+011.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463408543394879026" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKfnrpHo_hw9GUgcyHx1KfQ1ja8ilxxZygreDphKURcO5b7K-v2FYuWXgXdrJL8JuGeK-yrGPKJZwAZHBtDgp9rhbx-Aj_pKAKvUkU4swEe95GQZ5-R9sr-gVfNwf4PYG3dSDtv1K_LPew/s400/Early+April+April+At+The+Cottage.+011.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 400px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 300px;" /></a><br />
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When I did get back we managed to make the most of the time that was left....cutting wood led to physical exertion and that of course led to perspiration, which got those fellas talking about a swim!<br />
A nice refreshing swim on Good Friday!<br />
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Once young Graeme accepted the challenge; the outcome was inevitable.....I of course insisted on him wearing a life jacket....mostly cause I loathed the idea of me going in after him if he froze up and sunk like a bag of hammers.<br />
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With much debate, a little planning, a lot of hesitation.....he took a run down the length of the dock and did a perfect "string bean" into the icy waters of the Severn!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcy5PrVAGHCUzQ2jQxGJsCKXUYnJFGUiGw5C0X7W-bX4oDOZf2_0XuhCUYJH0YT73RB6MLFCWe1lveAizOHuDZSh2pDV0L09iTntuA3Fq0_RS6af9g3bAt2bVHv52EDZNnOB_Qj9OGYRSS/s1600/Early+April+April+At+The+Cottage.+003.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463407800333939682" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcy5PrVAGHCUzQ2jQxGJsCKXUYnJFGUiGw5C0X7W-bX4oDOZf2_0XuhCUYJH0YT73RB6MLFCWe1lveAizOHuDZSh2pDV0L09iTntuA3Fq0_RS6af9g3bAt2bVHv52EDZNnOB_Qj9OGYRSS/s400/Early+April+April+At+The+Cottage.+003.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 300px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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Actually, when he made his "run" he took me by surprise a little and I was just able to get a series of 3 shots of the historic plunge......and plunge he did....I'm not sure if Graeme fully expected to go "completely under" cause when he surfaced he had looks ranging from surprise to shock to fear to finally "urgency" on his way back to the ladder.<br />
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When he finally climbed the swim ladder (all stiff legged spiting and swearing) he was quite a sight!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD6QCZO4fPtFx4nKK2rsbOYw2DUGt22xUESXZOQ7OknBj8sAxPOi-yUBxxLfYQ3msZyQLsCOzUZKgtwZD7C62a3V9WwAikvYjHDHFFru7xil3fHLOabV2mA7kmENfALn-lVuY3_tjbJtz0/s1600/Early+April+April+At+The+Cottage.+005.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463408119845788098" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD6QCZO4fPtFx4nKK2rsbOYw2DUGt22xUESXZOQ7OknBj8sAxPOi-yUBxxLfYQ3msZyQLsCOzUZKgtwZD7C62a3V9WwAikvYjHDHFFru7xil3fHLOabV2mA7kmENfALn-lVuY3_tjbJtz0/s400/Early+April+April+At+The+Cottage.+005.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 300px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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He wasn't actually swearing, because he was unable to form words with his mouth!.....the best he could manage was fff..auh......fff..auh......fff..auh!!!! but we all knew what he meant!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigejWMJYI6M1N8wm_p2YtQ-laIbGubj6VcQJyWTDW_uo40b-sScKEnYgPl-MomYiB_5bWLkrJJXsaq0-fEJcsDVJ5fev3dfqyuMgsBQsaS1s3oSfiQZZOXPsp4ZRarSam-MXWszP_Myrrp/s1600/Early+April+April+At+The+Cottage.+006.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463407978665570146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigejWMJYI6M1N8wm_p2YtQ-laIbGubj6VcQJyWTDW_uo40b-sScKEnYgPl-MomYiB_5bWLkrJJXsaq0-fEJcsDVJ5fev3dfqyuMgsBQsaS1s3oSfiQZZOXPsp4ZRarSam-MXWszP_Myrrp/s400/Early+April+April+At+The+Cottage.+006.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 299px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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And as in all things....It's the thought that counts!....and he's now the "King Kahuna" of the early spring swimmers at Lost Channel Lookout! Congratulations Graeme!Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-26681074006571505522010-03-13T13:21:00.016-05:002012-02-11T14:10:23.787-05:00THE WINTER THAT WASN'T!I keep hearing the expression...but until just recently I was hesitant to jump on that band wagon, because as anyone knows in these parts a warm spell this time of year, even an extended one can be followed by "old man winter" roaring back with a vengeance.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRmgNFIpXcRujJdf0dY83oeCRewIhHa1DoxdY3A0iL3LXGcEPVPVYXfO8AMSOBpIlJRhvnNX8fTxgKI30LMdIjJ2kuMA7jAK3A8tN3iLwhWV6SjOOQ13WIy3fjlQD6tRImio4iN0mdan6N/s1600/Feb.+09+at+the+landing+026.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459999382806368658" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRmgNFIpXcRujJdf0dY83oeCRewIhHa1DoxdY3A0iL3LXGcEPVPVYXfO8AMSOBpIlJRhvnNX8fTxgKI30LMdIjJ2kuMA7jAK3A8tN3iLwhWV6SjOOQ13WIy3fjlQD6tRImio4iN0mdan6N/s400/Feb.+09+at+the+landing+026.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 300px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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But by all accounts; it seems that indeed "spring has sprung" and if indeed we are witness to the end of the winter of 09/10 then it will go down as a pretty tame one. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTt5Lru9lfS3NHVlkTYbVmjgqOb7w6Qxm1tU95Tm1gJlmDNl5iqnSitJjkd9I-IjwJhW_8gMN3y9hMXp_ghF_KTOJZRzGaSHtURqxZ33tiG8r0-vLIDvA3imEIAIpUGwNOruxjQV6UZOvN/s1600/Snowmobiling+with+Morley+Marchant+010.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459999135800915394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTt5Lru9lfS3NHVlkTYbVmjgqOb7w6Qxm1tU95Tm1gJlmDNl5iqnSitJjkd9I-IjwJhW_8gMN3y9hMXp_ghF_KTOJZRzGaSHtURqxZ33tiG8r0-vLIDvA3imEIAIpUGwNOruxjQV6UZOvN/s400/Snowmobiling+with+Morley+Marchant+010.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 300px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 400px;" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimUsM1pwMHOsQ_RJMPF34n7oLS6swOw5aao9BpRdl6Uj3Ejk_OCHLmeKGIzAqbJKfnaAMuugA3nigD58z1zbtYX_mSLcvNia8zpIk1T1xTXQKG-_K_Qwg6IeP6OlPVIlB9KZac2JNkBXiV/s1600/Carl's+Catch+2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460004433552256786" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimUsM1pwMHOsQ_RJMPF34n7oLS6swOw5aao9BpRdl6Uj3Ejk_OCHLmeKGIzAqbJKfnaAMuugA3nigD58z1zbtYX_mSLcvNia8zpIk1T1xTXQKG-_K_Qwg6IeP6OlPVIlB9KZac2JNkBXiV/s400/Carl's+Catch+2.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 300px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
The snowfall was definitely less than that of recent years and looking back, the temperatures were probably higher than normal and certainly less extreme in terms of swings from mild to bitter cold and back.<br />
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Don't get me wrong...I do recall a few -36 degree mornings to be sure, but overall it wasn't bad.<br />
The lack of snow and intermitant cold temperatures did however make for good ice conditions; which was a good thing because the snowmobile trails suffered as a result of reduced snowfall and ice travel was the best way to get around.<br />
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Speaking of ice; I did manage to get out and fish a couple of times. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr8DwiUcsrGWWn25jVYat0s4oVfXPOhXUPWiUhZbr9M-hO3RaektJWcnD-hMAu9R5bDOmjxeyhn-xwCR0EGaY1WZOBeVT883XDd1jwhQJHP0xtn7W2U2V4EFDhBbmaXfk3zo0spM4e79xa/s1600/Snowmobiling+with+Morley+Marchant+006.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459999991220169122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr8DwiUcsrGWWn25jVYat0s4oVfXPOhXUPWiUhZbr9M-hO3RaektJWcnD-hMAu9R5bDOmjxeyhn-xwCR0EGaY1WZOBeVT883XDd1jwhQJHP0xtn7W2U2V4EFDhBbmaXfk3zo0spM4e79xa/s400/Snowmobiling+with+Morley+Marchant+006.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 300px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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The days I did choose to go out turned out to be absolutly gorgeous, which doesn't always translate to fish biting but definitley helps with the enjoyment of the day.......<br />
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you know...sunglasses....lawn chairs...refreshments, etc. !!!!Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-55330323112129132882009-12-02T14:53:00.056-05:002012-02-11T14:10:58.535-05:00GLOUCESTER GRANDEUR!<div align="center">
<span style="font-size: 0px;"></span>It was a Thursday, a couple of weeks ago and for November...it was indeed a grand day !<br />
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I gave a call to a friend of mine Carl, and questioned him as to his intentions that sunny mid week day.<br />
His intentions were of were of course, ridiculous ....something about going to work, trying to make a living, not having the luxury of drifting in and out of the office depending on one's mood that day, like us real estate types.<br />
I said ya; the responsible thing to do would be to stop looking out the window and get some business done.<br />
Being distracted by the view is nothing new for me of course.<br />
I may have never moved on from my grade six classroom, (across from a public park full of frolicking squirrels) had it not been for Sister Mary Macdonald's intervention, closing the window shades next to my desk.<br />
Anyway back to Carl and the day at hand.<br />
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After feigning agreement with him I brought the conversation around to his project up on Deer Island, commenting that I had not been up there lately to check on his progress, and suggesting that I take a look when we get another good boating day....like there would be one !!<br />
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That was it; plans were changed, paperwork pushed aside, appointments and phone calls put off, and in his case, "numbers would have to be crunched" another day !<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2fwz8y7CbJFyHMvWWmiBNCKuylBXPxhMt41GX7r8_K4LpjZDLzdbKLK1-puTU6aNfZpKfucGP5YvmauBVbVJz37xsoidrkz5uqhVVBah5FM2oUH_asMFuOdT0Kb5qhTKn13IaQYCqK_Ry/s1600-h/Carl's+Place+on+Deer+Island+008.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415204432793737330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2fwz8y7CbJFyHMvWWmiBNCKuylBXPxhMt41GX7r8_K4LpjZDLzdbKLK1-puTU6aNfZpKfucGP5YvmauBVbVJz37xsoidrkz5uqhVVBah5FM2oUH_asMFuOdT0Kb5qhTKn13IaQYCqK_Ry/s400/Carl's+Place+on+Deer+Island+008.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 238px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 456px;" /></a><br />
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In an hour, we were on the sun sparkled waters of beautiful Gloucester Pool.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYMu97bAu2bXhYI2Mxa93oZE9PfX1YsJ-RHPDCI-bn7tfFpVX0UHFHTGkNX8nVhYoDlcnDxjVrOJbhcS4NM3zh7USY_P6vFEkCsAfuszjeFzJJPjLvWyhZiApqMFvn-XgEhrJLImraIhsw/s1600-h/Carl's+Place+on+Deer+Island+003.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415204033983629058" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYMu97bAu2bXhYI2Mxa93oZE9PfX1YsJ-RHPDCI-bn7tfFpVX0UHFHTGkNX8nVhYoDlcnDxjVrOJbhcS4NM3zh7USY_P6vFEkCsAfuszjeFzJJPjLvWyhZiApqMFvn-XgEhrJLImraIhsw/s400/Carl's+Place+on+Deer+Island+003.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 317px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 662px;" /></a><br />
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His truck, his boat, his gas and his beer ! .....How's that for the powers of suggestion from a kid who was scolded in grade school for daydreaming.<br />
It all started with me staring out the window instead of getting work done and come to think of it that's how this day started too !<br />
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Once we arrived at the island Carl gave me the grand tour of his newly constructed retreat and pointed out his further intentions and ongoing efforts.<br />
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The building is predominately a log building with a framed annex to the rear, housing the kitchen, bathroom and a main floor bedroom.<br />
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Every where one looks reflects the craftsmen ship and care that goes into a structure such as this. I marvel at the way the logs fit together and the thick sturdy walls that result.<br />
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXXabZligbaU-gLEWEzNBw0l2XfbxxbyhGwd0sBJIqJ3JbgERLfh8d1oguLeDTfRgGN_uXplKxL7NFNC36U7Gl7q-niHZKc1b_RFBr1j9KKzUwoHDXUeCbKpvEpGb7a0GD-RTeb1Mv3-9S/s1600-h/Carl's+Place+on+Deer+Island+012.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415204669930647602" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXXabZligbaU-gLEWEzNBw0l2XfbxxbyhGwd0sBJIqJ3JbgERLfh8d1oguLeDTfRgGN_uXplKxL7NFNC36U7Gl7q-niHZKc1b_RFBr1j9KKzUwoHDXUeCbKpvEpGb7a0GD-RTeb1Mv3-9S/s400/Carl's+Place+on+Deer+Island+012.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 299px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 496px;" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwYhsT2aG1fS6Z6GFTlW4PEIOwo9iUwkOL1_Ae3UknLP_MojuHWNltKSTYJ7PIIRBi5NUJ59DTf4fzBwbKW8iO4nFBMWRTcJ6HavHSdUbbjPr2G2sJL6pOYNKoQoyA0ZNsT_OoiUHl-Jcp/s1600-h/Carl's+Place+on+Deer+Island+017.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415204917708906546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwYhsT2aG1fS6Z6GFTlW4PEIOwo9iUwkOL1_Ae3UknLP_MojuHWNltKSTYJ7PIIRBi5NUJ59DTf4fzBwbKW8iO4nFBMWRTcJ6HavHSdUbbjPr2G2sJL6pOYNKoQoyA0ZNsT_OoiUHl-Jcp/s400/Carl's+Place+on+Deer+Island+017.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 299px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 542px;" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
Looking through the windows from the inside this building seemed to showcase the natural wonder beyond.<br />
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415203739374065538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpzRkweSMUGv24b21v4u_s3iMNUqeh5xKPMl47jDhL7yTX-eXpoNAapjLkBaQvQi40ob_i0gOkpVHsBBHUt7nQgWxwRBgfIoznB_2x9L8lrxRFVRkIQn1coWsfD0XLz7JVIuvGmHlkqtr7/s400/Carl's+Place+on+Deer+Island+007.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 317px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 543px;" /><br />But the real sensory treat was from the covered porches just a few yards back from the water, over sun warmed granite outcroppings, littered with fragrant pine needles; the amazing vista to be witnessed across the Pool, west towards a setting sun !<br /><br />Carl tells me that he had a hand in every aspect of the building, assisting the pros wherever he could. (In truth, he is much handier and more capable with this sort of a venture than I would let on to you; and certainly to him.)<br />This building was erected using much the same footprint as the building that formerly stood there, and in that way mirrors the original, which I believe had stood on that spot since around 1910.<br />The first old cottage being an uninsulated, modest frame structure, that time and the elements had taken their toll on so, similar footprint and same location near the waters' edge, but that's where the similarities ended.<br />After discussing window choices and flooring choices and overall design; we talked about what Carl and his wife's vision was for finishing touches in the coming year.<br /><br /><br />Having begun a similar project in lost channel I was keenly interested and hopeful to come away with any tips I could about construction and finishings.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBCyG8VAVjAqCg-_Vm95tnKc3TS8TFn5go78VVd7J1lxopenl_TWKCRtP7AeOijUqrfnpS5_zGEKXmFhGCknmaVdTqZrkn5obVjmj_CcnEO-xugoN9lAc45q5dkuvr1IQi6uWHNerT6Eh/s1600-h/Carl's+Place+on+Deer+Island+016.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415205124980791010" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBCyG8VAVjAqCg-_Vm95tnKc3TS8TFn5go78VVd7J1lxopenl_TWKCRtP7AeOijUqrfnpS5_zGEKXmFhGCknmaVdTqZrkn5obVjmj_CcnEO-xugoN9lAc45q5dkuvr1IQi6uWHNerT6Eh/s400/Carl's+Place+on+Deer+Island+016.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 323px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 540px;" /></a><br />
Carl was also kind enough to allow me to snap a few pics of his work in progress and as you can see, I decided to share them with you.<br /><br /><br /><br />All in all it was a great day for me.<br /><br /><br />I think worthy of anything that my daydreaming would conjure up.....I know, I know ........pretty mediocre stuff to be writing about....after all I am just a regular guy....I'm no Tiger Woods....my life is not nearly that interesting, but guess what....I bet I'm feeling alot more relaxed these days than he is.Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-25781777101216659892009-11-25T15:20:00.027-05:002012-02-11T14:11:18.504-05:00A NOVEMBER TO REMEMBER!<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj23G94llJ792dJQHLuFayqemPwcxoh3HTp5oblplmKolu6AFrwBgYVd_NUHYeyuLUCCL8tg63dnEMR9JEAeOVSpUPERrN3qBi78hawv6pWcd4hwsTeBK5dnFB_jBbXOsDuwji9lBq1vHhq/s1600-h/Nov+09+at+the+cottage+014.jpg"><span style="font-size: 0px;"></span><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410728964995566050" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj23G94llJ792dJQHLuFayqemPwcxoh3HTp5oblplmKolu6AFrwBgYVd_NUHYeyuLUCCL8tg63dnEMR9JEAeOVSpUPERrN3qBi78hawv6pWcd4hwsTeBK5dnFB_jBbXOsDuwji9lBq1vHhq/s400/Nov+09+at+the+cottage+014.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 306px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 598px;" /></a><br />
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Well; here we are, nearing the end of November and I must say "The weather's been with us". I normally scramble to get done what needs to be done during these waning days of Autumn; but not this year !</div>
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Whether its' raking leaves, putting up Christmas lights or changing to snow tires, we can't say that we haven't had opportunity as well as motive.</div>
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Why, I have even been working in the driveway to install a set of brakes that Ive been putting off doing. (There's only so many excuses a fella can use to avoid work of this nature and this year, weather could not be counted as one of them !)</div>
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Last year at this time we had already endured several substantial dumps of snow and below normal temperatures to go with it.</div>
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After a very cool, wet spring and a cooler, wetter summer it sure is nice to be on the right side of Mother Nature for a change.</div>
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Historically; it seems that I recall more Novembers like this one than that of last year; at least in the last 10 years or so.</div>
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I recall a few winters where we even wondered if we would have a green Christmas...(hasn't happened too often in these parts though) </div>
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Speaking of Novembers to remember; two of my "darling daughters" celebrate their birthdays on the 16th.....and what I remember about that November, 26yrs ago is trundling down the road, in blinding snow, in a beat up "79 Chevy Chevette" towards Soldiers Memorial Hospital.</div>
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The last 15 miles of the trip was completed with me peering as best I could out through the passenger side of the windshield after my side's wiper blade went flying off into the darkness !</div>
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In the end, all went well and that night became memorable, not because of weather or broken windshield wipers, but for the birth of daughters 2 & 3 Stacey and Shawna !</div>
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With this year's favorable weather, I still have the boat in and am enjoying late fall expeditions on the river (both work related and otherwise) as often as possible until winter hits.</div>
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421413020626390786" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikz2uvnF_xIl0ksqBvjbRe2kGu_7z1xq4MB3hpH0GzObl9un0X1E73v59tAnID3ES0pXD20uJOEw_3K3O6qj8tsEBlnOGAtqq0z_gSPXqsJSdvaBbCXbS3ct9j4ZlBKsGSNfUE73wwWqlV/s400/Nov+09+at+the+cottage+004.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 303px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 399px;" /><br />
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During a recent foray; we spent some time at Lost Channel, preparing docks for winter, cutting a bit of wood, building a bit of a fire, generally just enjoying the day and early evening up there.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc0vp4-2jJybuaT9ImGfXP33sFxPYzKQ5EMK12iVAPIiKHleAz8i4wZO4fj_moJIyn-Z6tf203C8eUTXV1mYD1H80p-U70vDhDiWatNXlFCM2I0nxvZA26jwDo6ktcP1V2Wz2cnuaGfwrt/s1600/November+2008+at+the+cottage.+012.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408790127459092978" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc0vp4-2jJybuaT9ImGfXP33sFxPYzKQ5EMK12iVAPIiKHleAz8i4wZO4fj_moJIyn-Z6tf203C8eUTXV1mYD1H80p-U70vDhDiWatNXlFCM2I0nxvZA26jwDo6ktcP1V2Wz2cnuaGfwrt/s400/November+2008+at+the+cottage.+012.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 295px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 542px;" /></a><br />
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417801685038359634" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ3Un2lpA6KjplCf2yaHc3i7kOHbxezxi_A1UhgkB-87HBY2-brcg03W4vNxrDHQNoI-EV2RrrTtbWDy13b_FrFB3ID9VUEpNlOACEBk5BORodVqpds4ZuLQp8q7k1MG2csWuj4DMD8G38/s400/Evening+sky+on+the+river+03.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 299px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 494px;" /> <br />
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Sitting here at my desk, I have just minimized this screen and checked the forecast...today's high is better than 10 degrees and even the long range shows some promise....guess I'm not done with the boat yet !!</div>
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</div>Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-41180281591321051982009-10-02T09:31:00.026-04:002015-05-07T14:00:15.704-04:00TREAD LIGHTLY IN THE FALL LEAVES!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUDItJJJgbhepJPKnt9Ve7C0aPO33s3DMv5WOYP1nB28VNpuegS_xLzbkT2yxotOAx0zc2UnyJclBbLDGCr7JvgZHhfR14N_eOaVbkRBr-pUZe4Rou82g8Uoum_ChNuPXJnB4RLCbwm-Tv/s1600-h/autumn+scene.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389571572875880722" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUDItJJJgbhepJPKnt9Ve7C0aPO33s3DMv5WOYP1nB28VNpuegS_xLzbkT2yxotOAx0zc2UnyJclBbLDGCr7JvgZHhfR14N_eOaVbkRBr-pUZe4Rou82g8Uoum_ChNuPXJnB4RLCbwm-Tv/s400/autumn+scene.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 300px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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Autumn...that time of year when the air is crisp and the days are but short sunny interludes between long, frosty, star filled nights; and it seems that all creatures, man and beast alike busy themselves in preparation for winter.<br />
I have long said that this my favourite time of year.<br />
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From a business point of view, I have by now toiled through most of my selling season and can now take stock, of my performance so far; before going into the last quarter of 09 as they say.<br />
I say "my performance" because in the business of Real estate sales, success or failure is largely up to the individual.<br />
One can cite the lagging economy, or Real Estate cycles, or whatever external forces they wish; but the truth of it is, you need to ride the cycles and learn to "roll with the punches". Oldsters like me adapt and carry on, thus managing to survive in this fickle "feast or famine" business.<br />
(I personally wouldn't trade it for anything)<br />
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So getting back to my favourite time of year, I think that there's something about fall that speaks to the lumberjack in me. After a couple of months of my leisure moments revolving around summer days at the shore and on or in the water; I'm ready for a change of pace and enjoy a retreat to the woods. I've been known to be the plaid shirt wearing, chainsaw wielding, axe swinging type up on "the river" but back in town here I mostly stick to more subdued fall activities equally enjoyable.<br />
Raking leaves, building a garden shed, or simply taking a walk when I can, rather than darting around in an air conditioned truck like I have been.<br />
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The recycling retriever and I try to have a good long walk, a couple of times a day when possible. A high point of these forays for Jackson is often the discovery of a coffee cup or plastic bottle which he carries with him the rest of the journey, ears up, head held high and prancing with pride like he's caring a treasure.<br />
After a recent outing of this kind a returned to the office to discover that I had picked up a "treasure" of sorts of my own. Seemingly fused forever to the bottom of my shoe this treasure would not, and could not be dealt with like the water bottle that Jackson skillfully delivered to the blue box.<br />
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Each year it seems that I manage to avoid treading on a "land mine" (as they are sometimes referred to) all summer long, but invariably once fall arrives, I fall prey to a skillfully concealed "puppy package", hidden amongst the fallen leaves. Just the right color to blend in, and just the right consistency to give me the sense that the sudden cushion I feel under my step and slight slippage that occurs is merely harmless soggy ground from yesterday's rain.<br />
Undetectable, effective and deadly in their purpose, they are the bane of Autumn pedestrians.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc1nGNkLK2ik1F6s3jn26Li-HAWJt9tMn_8qXNF1npEmDdArtuTONW0uVYmvY_WO6qOvVHvwnHHpsqxCviXGHW9ahD61OGmf2qUd9f2MDou0KWsVKT5VLS1mm2Zj4W-lU-N2lRjCRwlCaC/s1600-h/Jackson+Rufus+005.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389571944055919154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc1nGNkLK2ik1F6s3jn26Li-HAWJt9tMn_8qXNF1npEmDdArtuTONW0uVYmvY_WO6qOvVHvwnHHpsqxCviXGHW9ahD61OGmf2qUd9f2MDou0KWsVKT5VLS1mm2Zj4W-lU-N2lRjCRwlCaC/s400/Jackson+Rufus+005.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 300px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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Just a little tip from experience:<br />
If you've walked to work and are rightfully proud of that, and thinking you are going to have a blessed day. You glance down beneath your desk to see leaves sticking out from the bottom of your shoe....leaves don't stick to rubber soles... and your day is about to change !!!Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-79579926343695462102009-08-18T11:45:00.000-04:002015-05-07T14:00:32.422-04:00WATER WORRIES!Thought I'd sit down and say a few words about "water".<br />
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If I said "water wells"....you'd say "now that's a deep subject"<br />
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If I mentioned "watered down" you might think of American style beer.<br />
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If I talked about "holding water"...you'd think of an argument that either does or doesn't; or possibly being 50years + "holding your water"may conjure visions of nocturnal trips made, interrupting what should have been a good nights' sleep.<br />
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In general; we here in North America are blessed with it, and lots of it.<br />
I guess because of this, we tend to minimize it's value and take for granted that we will always enjoy a surplus of this life-giving liquid.<br />
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Ever talk to anyone from Europe about our attitude towards fresh water and the way we squander it ?<br />
In recent years it seems it is just beginning to have become something of a commodity, but I can easily remember a time when no one ever thought of the idea of paying for it.<br />
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Even now, I believe there is little thought given to conservation and the protection of this resource by the average person simply because of it's apparent abundance and availability.<br />
Just think back to last year at this time when gas prices soared and delivery to some stations seemed intermittent....I don't know about you but I was "all about" the conservation and protection of it.<br />
Or think of something else relatively cheap and easily available, like electricity. Oh Lord ! how our attitude towards it changes when the power goes off......all of a sudden you're camping...and not by choice!<br />
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Speaking of camping; I recently spent some time on the Severn river doing just that !<br />
While the weather was "no hell" the fishing and the company was just fine.<br />
Having a few drinks by the fire, we told the usual stories to one and other, some pretty much true, some likely overly embellished with the passage of time and occasions repeated. Allot of it being just our observations but never our "feelings" of course !<br />
You get the idea....<br />
At one point I jokingly compared the look of our property, with the various tents perched atop it's sub floor to "site 41"and of course that brought the subject of conversation then, and this blog post now, around to the situation there.<br />
A friend of mine grew up near there and at one time owned property in the "site 41" immediate area. He told me that if you walk in any direction of that site you can find either an actual spring with water bubbling to the surface, spring fed ponds,with icy cold water, or deep holes in the surface that lead to aquifers that likely run for miles beneath the surrounding countryside, supplying "who knows who's" wells.<br />
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I'm certain that there were studies done: and I don't claim to have much knowledge of why, or why not a dump should be located anywhere near there.<br />
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But I can't "for the life of me" understand why we shouldn't "error on the side of caution" on this one?<br />
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In these days where safety is always such a great concern and it seems that we need ever increasing legislation to protect us from ourselves, be it in our cars or in our boats or walking down the street enjoying a smoke. (no I'm not a smoker), shouldn't we take a closer look at this one?<br />
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If we are so worried about the possibility of some cigarette smoke wafting in the direction of our emotionally and physically coddled, safety helmeted children in a nearby playground, shouldn't we also worry about the water that they and their children will one day drink ?<br />
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Likely by the time the contaminants seeping from the dump make it past the so called "impenetrable" clay basin that they assure us will contain it; we won't have to worry about it, but it will be our children and grand children's dilemma.<br />
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When they consider the wisdom used in deciding to build a dump over drinking water;<br />
do you think that they will have a chuckle the way we do when we think of "our parents" letting us ride in the back window of Dad's big sedan with no thought of our safety or seat belts?<br />
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I'm pretty sure it won't be a laughing matter.Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-35317852812322493962009-07-10T10:24:00.000-04:002012-02-11T14:12:41.581-05:00FIREWORKS!Well, another Canada Day has come and gone. With July 1st falling on a Wednesday this year, we seemed to have varying opinions on when to celebrate it. Some people took the preceding Monday off, making that the long weekend. Some people waited until the Friday after to take their "stat" and some just celebrated on the day.<br />
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I knew people from all three camps; so naturally I was obligated to observe the holiday at what amounted to a series of events spanning from June 26th on to July 5th.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMDEQaqW61VC0_ZZSu1miZQZr1G6rcPoV5gIoTB8ctvMbufiNMqMDDBTPuXfGAONNWG9oaR-9pwqhnqbjhBqfXHVbh0oNZyM8X5Jd4hI4sxiCMKGpyOhgBj9zOXMArd0OMDd7ESbuG29oE/s1600-h/Fireworks+at+lost+channel+015.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358334357434745154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMDEQaqW61VC0_ZZSu1miZQZr1G6rcPoV5gIoTB8ctvMbufiNMqMDDBTPuXfGAONNWG9oaR-9pwqhnqbjhBqfXHVbh0oNZyM8X5Jd4hI4sxiCMKGpyOhgBj9zOXMArd0OMDd7ESbuG29oE/s320/Fireworks+at+lost+channel+015.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 240px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 320px;" /></a></div>
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A favourite for most people is the fireworks displays, which can be viewed by all, at a number of local venues. Not the least of which is the yearly display at Lost Channel. </div>
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I understand that it is a privately funded event; but from what I hear it is simply spectacular, complete with audio accompaniment. </div>
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Most people gather in boats nearby, armed with plenty of snacks and drinks to keep the kids occupied until the show begins.</div>
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When the last brilliant display has faded; people "pull up anchor" and slowly and carefully head off into the blackness of the night towards their respective cottages or campsites.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWbgG2Z3a1bln4XsznelI2PHXj_XRvntlEUUShsjz6or5JvEdsXHjuDXN3jzZjN_jbg4BNgmDwJbyLH6a8CkfiHWaFz7LRhKy-XRRLF1Fp9fOOn1G3sJOcTIPvt7K41c6UkpSoCXA4YtMC/s1600-h/Fireworks+at+lost+channel+043.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358334640833766802" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWbgG2Z3a1bln4XsznelI2PHXj_XRvntlEUUShsjz6or5JvEdsXHjuDXN3jzZjN_jbg4BNgmDwJbyLH6a8CkfiHWaFz7LRhKy-XRRLF1Fp9fOOn1G3sJOcTIPvt7K41c6UkpSoCXA4YtMC/s320/Fireworks+at+lost+channel+043.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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A great evening of family fun being had by one and all !!<br />
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Another type of fireworks display is the typical backyard type, complete with screamers, burning school houses and of course the sparklers. </div>
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This "up close" display is great and mostly safe when supervised by competent adults.</div>
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The trick seems to be to have just one of those aforementioned adults conduct the lighting and of course the safe removal of the spent charges and keep everyone else (especially children and pets) at a safe distance.</div>
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That works for most of the contents of your fireworks arsenal, but what about the little hand held sparklers? Which seem to generate "welding rod like" heat and get passed out to the kids like they were as harmless as the little plastic "detergent" bubble makers that we've all seen kids blow through and wave around. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXCkXA37IJyfxlWb74rsKHcfbikwSA9rGYGYr-KXYrt39wRFVY6dn08_Dy_H53gpUDdOixKZOHBfyx55qeH6TCfEvEf54UQfktyCNVFsyFTUrm8Q78zEgQLmuLU5s4fZG3AwrYxGrLFM0/s1600-h/sparkler+1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358357947088232498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXCkXA37IJyfxlWb74rsKHcfbikwSA9rGYGYr-KXYrt39wRFVY6dn08_Dy_H53gpUDdOixKZOHBfyx55qeH6TCfEvEf54UQfktyCNVFsyFTUrm8Q78zEgQLmuLU5s4fZG3AwrYxGrLFM0/s320/sparkler+1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 69px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 124px;" /></a><br />
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"Since I was just a youngster" (a phrase weighted similar to "when Christ was a cowboy") the sparkler has been the favourite with all children. </div>
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Who hasn't witnessed the scene of half a dozen junk food fueled kids running blindly around the backyard followed by barking dogs; (not sure what to make of the commotion); followed by anxious adults, desperately trying to maintain some form of order and keep track of which kid is theirs in the dark.</div>
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"No running with the sparklers" "Stop chasing the dog with that" "keep that away from your little cousin's eyes" Watch out for the swing set" "Whatever you do... don't touch it when it goes out"...it's still really hot!!</div>
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All of course falling on deaf ears.</div>
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I personally have been burnt by a sparkler twice in my life... once as one of those frenzied children and once about twenty years later as an anxious adult sprinting across the backyard to recklessly grab an expired one from the hand of my 5yr old daughter Bobbi-anne as she reached with her other hand to touch it.</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3w5uZeRemuQUH_y0vQEFtLiMsE1okTGfPpojNGcw-Eam6hYTcQi5Tcr5ihtOTV-0UYVeFpjv6p1ZbTK1qwjSrt6b4YiUo3Lv2pQZhB8rorupWaK_xNbwLAn3JlwSpZMjAxU7e0jKQfVWn/s1600-h/sparkler+2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358357707195658002" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3w5uZeRemuQUH_y0vQEFtLiMsE1okTGfPpojNGcw-Eam6hYTcQi5Tcr5ihtOTV-0UYVeFpjv6p1ZbTK1qwjSrt6b4YiUo3Lv2pQZhB8rorupWaK_xNbwLAn3JlwSpZMjAxU7e0jKQfVWn/s320/sparkler+2.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 137px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 103px;" /></a><br />
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I can tell you that twenty years didn't make the little buggers any less hot; that's for sure.</div>
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Now another twenty or so years has passed and I guess my next encounter with that heat will likely be as a result of me protecting a grandchild from his or her own curiosity!</div>
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You may next year, see the scene repeat itself, complete with frenzied kids, barking dogs and anxious adults, but if it's my family your watching;<br />
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I'll be the old guy wearing the welder's mitts.</div>
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</div>Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-41727777224906640072009-06-22T15:02:00.000-04:002012-02-11T14:13:01.447-05:00SOME LIKE IT HOT!After a long winter, a cool spring, and a summer that's just beginning to sputter along, we seem to finally be in for a spell of much needed warmth.<br />
With this week's temps predicted to be highs of 27 to 30 degrees and humidity that will give things a much hotter feel, I'm reminded of the adage "be careful what you wish for".<br />
During my daily morning romp in the fairgrounds with Jackson Rufus (the recycling retriever) I noticed that the sun seemed higher and certainly stronger than normal, for that time of the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpjI87Zo06E_dSptJssBli8MGPKA7RG_iB18bDLHuGcpJnW7QwZ9zAANLuGoj5VjB3qyHtqz4gDAE9yfNhN4T_tQMmjZwIyjoalaNLXJG6crQsEZ3PfD35M1kQVer0KeF7ZRAXcIwtuBM3/s1600-h/global+warming.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351630410249328130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpjI87Zo06E_dSptJssBli8MGPKA7RG_iB18bDLHuGcpJnW7QwZ9zAANLuGoj5VjB3qyHtqz4gDAE9yfNhN4T_tQMmjZwIyjoalaNLXJG6crQsEZ3PfD35M1kQVer0KeF7ZRAXcIwtuBM3/s320/global+warming.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 120px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 116px;" /></a>morning. I noticed also my pace beginning to slow and my breathing deliberate as the air seemed thicker and no where near as crisp as last week. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Hmm</span>...Global warming or just a middle aged guy trying to keep up to the youthful trot of a young dog.<br />
On the up side...the mosquitoes were equally as lethargic and for the most part let me pass unscathed through their hunting grounds. Now don't get me wrong...I'm not complaining...Just making observations.<br />
Another recent observation of mine is that it seems, the older a fella gets, the more heat he can tolerate and not just tolerate but enjoy.<br />
Most folks that I know over 65 will tell you that "it's not that hot...just relax, slow down a bit a take your time get to where your <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">goin</span>"<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhteZuJldFO1KGeEbAmMJEjDdFIjUq2mjJc4lJu325ZJbkPOuVEPuyP5RxWulaqDc1e0Utsf31z7e9bnBXmxzYyguishrsl9vZZqHs2j4qF-tD7_4LIJWf-VYnfyR3UzzNKXwsLMzs_Y2Mf/s1600-h/Cursing+the+heat.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351630860377556658" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhteZuJldFO1KGeEbAmMJEjDdFIjUq2mjJc4lJu325ZJbkPOuVEPuyP5RxWulaqDc1e0Utsf31z7e9bnBXmxzYyguishrsl9vZZqHs2j4qF-tD7_4LIJWf-VYnfyR3UzzNKXwsLMzs_Y2Mf/s320/Cursing+the+heat.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 116px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 116px;" /></a>I say "Great advice...if you have nothing to do and all day to do it" but for a guy like me rushing around madly sometimes just comes with the job.<br />
I might as well curse the heat, cause after all, even if I'm late I could never admit to bad planning on my part, eh !<br />
Even in winter; most folks I know of that "vintage" keep their homes just about 3 degrees hotter than Hades.<br />
I guess I'm just "not there yet" either from a circulatory or chronological point of view.<br />
But who knows; maybe it won't be long before I'm shunning the air conditioning, looking forward to a heat wave, some free time and joining my buddies on the beach.<br />
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351631200037308050" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5lHdb7-k4ZdrdRcSS6s2zTBAPMNDxOlPgiDrD-rDy0pESB7SKfd1Q1Zpi2lDmd7pY7wzLu_WpvZf1tmuu0sGMoVr7RFSKnju9bEnotYs-XcYCIStIwXXRUaSdM1btNrVVOleEMSJjE1mg/s320/The+Beach+Buddies.bmp" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 217px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" />Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8240670559090303461.post-74631767108757449752009-05-29T10:24:00.000-04:002012-02-11T14:14:39.145-05:00FEARSOME BLACK BEARS? PERHAPS, FEARSOME BLACK FLIES? OH YEAH!Showing and selling real estate in what city folks call the "near north" I'm forever being asked "are there bears around here?"<br />
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The short answer for that is "of course." I usually continue with "is wildlife viewing high on your house/cottage hunting criteria list?" Part way through that sentence I notice a look of shock and possibly fear come across the clients face. I then quickly explain that "well you know how it is with bears...they're mostly kinda nomadic and will only hang around if there's a easy food source...."<br />
I think of a black bear much like an overgrown raccoon. (which Torontonians can definitely relate to) Both creatures are opportunistic and can become a real nuisance if you are not diligent about your behavior where they are prevalent.<br />
And like any wild animal; both can become nasty and possibly even dangerous if cornered.<br />
(That reminds me of a chipmunk incident at a portage in Algonquin Park....now he was nasty....but that's another story...)<br />
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If folks really want something to worry about they should think Black Fly!...not Black Bear!<br />
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341301601955827154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCF5VK5sri-nNAg2yMJAcQly3FjCnPKwXDDJbQMAlmOy-3r-hsMgB6Ex9CRldluozna-iTW_ksBGu3F3OZYCUcAVFFLz7mR-uc5HYN0cUIYS7bcCH2Lk6P3xvmQPABCko77Ve5L79OfXFp/s320/Black+Fly+Pic..JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 256px;" /><br />
They, in my opinion, take first prize for "most fearsome creature of the north" followed closely of course by the dreaded mosquito. Both bloodthirsty to be sure and have even coordinated the timing of their attacks as to not overlap too much; with the dreaded black fly striking first, and then the mosquito descending on any survivors, stumbling around, weak from blood loss.<br />
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But getting back to showing real estate during bug season....<br />
If you were watching, from a distance; my clients and I trying our best to have an outdoor conversation this time of year, it must appear as if we are hapless contestants on the reality show "So You Think You Can Dance" or perhaps assisting an airplane to land through frantic hand signals.<br />
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As a fellow that depends on making a sale now and then I tend to downplay the threat, and glibly suggest the use of what we call a bug-free or a gazebo as a cure.<br />
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341301761797203618" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihLwbUbozkFmd555s77NtzKZ3sDPcsgJ7OLvrDAzkWgXfPyUsKflREfBJK7Uc6Htr_Mdw5-e481jH9-bKVjYZ6pPODYcJqGNPTk9CLgwejBCbPzq_E9ODy1tI7RqSX1ExV6DVVyyGsfY_4/s320/black-bear-0003.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 273px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /><br />
Oh... just so you know; a bug free is great for stopping black flies and yet is not nearly as effective on black bears; ....but after all they are not after you...they want the half eaten bag of last night's campfire marsh mellows;...... and maybe a place to eat them, <strong><em>away from the black flies. </em></strong>Severn Soundingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03320553881345739317noreply@blogger.com0