Locust Blossoms

Our black locust trees are loaded with blossoms…..

Ten years ago, on the day of our daughter’s wedding, the flowers were even more plentiful. Blossoms, beautifully white, hung over the garden beds below. Flowers and blossoms, mingling.

Pea like white flowers, dripping from the boughs and the branches.

Bumble bees, drawn by the sweet honey musk scent of the flower, assemble into a buzzing orchestra high in the branches above the ground.

So many blossoms, so many bees, so much honey, in hives located in other trees.

Forget-Me-Not

Wish upon a wishing well, 
A pocket full of sand. 
I picked a bouquet of forget-me-nots.
They wilted in my hand. 

An old apple head doll,
Pinched and pruned,
and impeccably dressed.
Lay on the floor
for a well-deserved rest. 

Soft tiny triangles of fabric
Filled a plastic bag 
'Merry Christmas,' she said 
And my heart began to sag. 

And the dresses drifting down
to the ground, turn into mud.
Triangle pieces 
Land with a thud.

And the water is wet.
And the rain is wet.
Yet.
My tears run dry


That old familiar tune plays on...and on....and on...and on. 
And time passes by.

The Carden Plain.

After traveling down a stretch of Wylie Road, through long flooded areas, dodging springtime potholes, and smooth gravel sections, we decided to hike a length of the Sedge Wren Marsh. So very pretty and noisy with the songs of the birds that we could not see. Narrow like an old cow trail, spotted with board walks and flat rocky spots.

I didn’t photograph the poison ivy growing alongside the path.

We loved our time exploring parts of the Cardin Plain, a large limestone plain with wetlands and woods, and large grassy meadows.

Walking through God’s Garden.

Praise smoke, Labrador violets, early buttercup, and western service berries were a few that we could identify.

On Bluebird ranch, the cattle called moooo, while the Canada Geese nested and rested all the while watching you!

Bluebird Ranch, a part of the Couchiching Conservancy, is a working ranch. We witnessed several herds of cattle, all who boldly stared us down as we quietly called their names.

The bird songs that we listened to may or may not have been the voices of those pictured above.

My favourite flower of the day, the brilliantly beautiful scarlet Indianm paintbrush. With this paintbrush, God painted a garden like no other.

Mother’s Day brunch at Barrie Hill Farms

Belgium waffles, with blueberry and strawberry sauce straight from the farm.

Topped with a great scoop of whipped cream. Yum!

This is one of my all-time favourite places.

My summer doesn’t properly begin until I have picked a heaping basket of sweet, red, luscious strawberries. I have started my summers this way for the past forty or so years.

A tradition I plan to continue for many more years.

The wagon rides through the fields, though, have changed in the past forty years.

There are rules now. Please remain seated, and definitely NO jumping of the wagon

The jumping off, running to get back on, jumping off, running to get back on, jumping off, running to get back on, jumping off…….days are over!

Udder nonsense.

Udderly ridiculous.

Udderly strange.

Udderly different.

Udderly familiar.

NO moo…………RE!!!!!

A vendor find! A positive in a world that needs more positives!

Happy Mother’s Day, from our home to yours!

Dandelion Honey

Separate two bouquets of brilliant, yellow dandelions from their grooved leaf funnels.

Remove the stems, and the green pieces.

Add equal parts, sugar, and water.

Then, reduce, reduce, reduce

Just a little bit more! I totally agree with Winnie the Pooh.

Dandelion, honey!

Smooth as honey.

Sticky as toffee.

Sweet as ever!

With a little hint of lemon.

If you don’t like this multi-purpose, beneficial little plant, stop making wishes.

Every time you breathe upon that little ball of fluff, you are sending anywhere from 55 to 175 seeds into the air.

And somewhere, at some time, someone will be harvesting this overlooked and mistreated bright yellow flower!!!!

Down by the River

I wanted to walk to the river today,
Just a little over two kilometers away. 

But I could not take that first step.
My shoe, it would not move.

Somehow, over the years,
I have lost my groove. 

As the tears rolled down my face,
I silently cried.

Like ketchup on a plate 
Of old French fries. 

I know the day will come 
When into the river
My toes,
Will drum.

Until then
I will contemplate 
How I ended up
In this ridiculous 
STATE!!!!

Happy Earth Day

The stump upon which my little grandson sits has 135 rings old.

This stump is all the remains from a once majestic ash tree.

The 135 rings would have numbered many more, if not for that tiny, emerald green, ash borer.

The stump of an old ash tree
that died prematurely.

Rebirth on the forest floor. Room for conifers, deciduous, and many more.

The earth, left on it’s own will flourish.

Grow where the squirrels have planted you!

Happy Earth Day!!!!!

Signs, Signs….

On a country sign.
Beside art, and ice creams.
Read it, if you can!

The Phelpston Tract….

Long logs of red pine grace the forest floor

Having lived alongside the Simcoe County Forest for the past 40-plus years, we have had the privilege of watching the forest transform from a purely red pine forest to one with a mixture of tall, straight pine trees and a healthy young deciduous undergrowth.

A beautiful bouquet, gifted to us from a tall straight pine tree.

Years ago, our children and their cousins ran freely through this forest. Their pathes uninterrupted by saplings and undergrowth. Their steps treading lightly upon the thick blanket of pine needles that covered the forest floor.

The pine trees have been in the minority for, at least, the last decade. This week, their numbers have decreased again.

What is the answer? If a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound? Yes, it does. But not as loud as one might think.

This spring, as the sun shines through the newly formed openings, a new canvas will be created.

Saplings, once struggling to reach the sky, will now bathe in warmth and sunshine.

Leaves unfurling, trunks stretching, and canopies exploding, sheltering the mosses, grasses, fungi, and flowers that now cover the forest floor.

A new canvas is about to be painted.

The Three Sisters Legend

The Three Sisters Legend, as presented at the Three Sisters exhibit at the Sweatwater Harvest Festival, held this past weekend at Sainte-Marie Among the Hurons and the Wye Marsh.

Corn, beans, and squash were always planted together. The Indigenous people believed that their spirits were loving sisters who liked to stay beside one another. When the seeds were planted, the Indigenous people prayed to the Thunder Spirit not to burn the earth and to give the sisters all the water they needed.

Late in the summer, when the crops were ripe, the people celebrated because the sisters had grown up. At the next moon, they danced in honour of the harvest. The life cycle was complete. On that day, the women sang. ‘The three sisters are happy because they are home again from their summer in the fields.