Making a Movie

I don't get to sit in The Director's Chair with a bullhorn by my side and dark shades and a beret that make me look like a Jazzy VIP. - or is it a celluloid visor they wear?  No, that's for poker players....

I do get to confine myself in the computer room though, - oblivious to what is going on around me and to the swift passage of time as the clock mechanism outraces the gears in my thinking apparatus and I am lost in puzzling creativity.

My elbows are getting all rough and chafed from leaning them on the computer desk, supporting my head on my hands as I try to locate directions and follow them meticulously so that I don't, by mistake, hit the wrong key and have everything disappear on me (as sometimes happens....)  I have some nice Planet Spa elbow cream that I rub in faithfully every night so that I won't be deterred by rough elbows from continuing with my movie making project.

Charles says I take far too many pictures, - ten, where one would do.  But one has to take advantage of the scenery when one is out 'on location'!  When I start trying to choose pictures for this wonderful movie I am making (which I am calling Indian Summer) I am inclined to agree with him.

I bring up the days' pictures on the screen and study them, - this one?  Or is that one (taken a smidgen of a second later) better?  Or the same?  Eventually I have made my choices and I turn to Movie Maker, the program, and request that they all be displayed in the media box.  Sometimes Movie Maker is in a good mood and humours me, but sometimes only a couple are sent, and I have to go back and retrieve the rest.

Then I drag them to the Timeline, and pretty soon I have a long line of cloud pictures, sky pictures, garden pictures, - all mixed up because I'm doing this project chronologically.  That's O.K., - I tell myself they will look just fine.

When all the pictures are in place it is time to insert a little transition between each one, - do we want to 'pan'?  (Oh, that word makes me feel quite professional) .  And should the picture flip, or fade or dissolve while the next one appears?  I discover that if I make the right choices I can Select All, and presto, there is a transition between each slide.  Wonderful....

Now to choose the music to go with the movie, in case someone who is watching gets bored and closes his eyes, the music will still soothe him!  Shall we have something lively, or a more classic concert?

I go through every last album I have that is even remotely suitable, - and finally I make my choice.  A little Chopin and the music will last the length of the movie, as long as I remember to click the little box that tells whoever runs this show to do this.

Done!  I am so pleased with the wonderful way the valley has cooperated in providing beautiful scenes that have produced the makings of a movie that is over an hour long!!

Now to save it, and burn it on to a DVD - a long process, I discover, that causes me to stay up long past my bedtime.  The moment of truth is when I slip the disc into the DVD player, fingers crossed, praying audibly.   Yes, yes yes!!  It works.  While we have breakfast the music of Chopin wafts through the house, - there are scenes of sunsets and sunrises;  glorious autumn colours of scarlet and gold and russet shades; lakes and streams, mountains and rills; the wedding, the shower, people who come to visit, dear Caspar and Callie and I am so pleased I think I might go out and invest in a beret and a pair of snazzy shades - and a bullhorn.

I would play this creation for you, but as I said, it goes on and on and on for over an hour, so you will have to come and visit and have tea while we watch.......

ABC Wednesday

and the letter is P

Hope you enjoy this wonderful rendition of PERFIDIA by Nat King Cole



For other interpretations of the letter F pop on over to ABC Wednesday, here.

White Rabbits, White Rabbits, - scouting out shelter on the 1st of November.

But before we welcome the Melancholy Month a fond farewell to Glorious October.

The last day of the month gave little promise of the pleasures to come, - damp and misty, and the clouds hung low as we went to church.  We came out of the church doors to a pelting rainstorm, but two hours later the sky was blue, the clouds were summery and the sun was in and out, playing hide and seek with first one grove of golden trees, and then spotlighting another lone light shimmering beacon.

Before the after lunch nap I went for a short walk, down through the orchard

The newly picked apple trees extended a cool and shadowy invitation to linger

The arching boughs made a dim tunnel that stretched into the distance and 

as they flickered through the golden branches a half a dozen

woodpeckers searched for gleaners apples

The subdued colours in the garden glowed in the sunlight

and on the deck an inquisitive ghost hung from the ceiling,

anticipating Halloween visitors

A few of these seen on the streets of town

But the ones who delighted our hearts most were the two little

pumpkin great grandsons who came to entertain

us with a tune and fill their little pumpkin pails

with goodies.

At midnight, precisely, November sent swirling winds amongst

the trees, and this morning the ground was

covered with gold and russet leaves.

But still, on the way to Penticton  the hills were alive with the most

beautiful shades of yellow, and I wished for 

wings to fly over the countryside and follow the creek that flows down from 

 Yellow lake, lined with golden Aspen and Poplars and beautifully shaded shrubs

A lovely day and I came home with some paper whites and three new Amaryllis! 

Melancholy

On Tuesday we buried our dear Caspar, down along the fence line next to Miss Roo, whose grave is now covered with Meadow Rue.  What will we plant to remember this wonderful companion who has given us so much joy these last fifteen years?

Lately he spent much of his time sleeping, as many elderly gentlemen are wont to do.  His little boney spine reminded us that quite possibly he was suffering arthritic pain, and sometimes his back legs collapsed under him.  He was blind and deaf, so that we were careful not to move anything out of its accustomed place. He gave up begging for treats, sitting up ramrod straight and waving his paws in the air, all eagerness and happy anticipation.  When Dot, the dispenser of biccies, came for coffee in the morning he often slept through her visit, and when Frank cut the Thanksgiving Turkey there was no little dog at his feet, impatiently awaiting whatever might drop to the floor or be handed down surreptitiously.

 He hadn't bitten our grandson's toes for some years, and the toys he used to run for and retrieve sat in their basket, forlorn and lonely for his attention.  Life had lost its glow.....

As his needs grew I spent more time with him, - very aware of his bladder, walking him half a dozen times a day, with our first outside visit at five a.m. and the last at bedtime.  We learned to move quietly and not to make any sudden noises that seemed to startle and frighten him.  And now our freedom from these concerns are little darts that remind us he has left us.....

A few years ago we stopped taking him with us when we were out in the car, as he whined and was uncomfortable, but for all the rest of his life he was Charles' companion in the truck, - his little paws up on the dash, watching the road and any stray animals along the side that merited his barking attention.  Charles built a little platform behind the back window of the truck, inside the canopy, at just the right height to sit in the Commodore's Chair and direct operations through the open sliding window.

We have always loved dogs, and never been without their loving companionship, but they were outside farm dogs.  Charles had a special relationship with Candy, his precious Border Collie partner and keeper of the sheep, but we had never had a small, indoor dog before, and I had misgivings when Charles brought him home, - the runt of the litter who had not sold and was beginning to challenge his father's authority!

He stole our hearts immediately, and kept them to the end, so that now they are temporarily shattered and we miss him dreadfully.

As does Miss Callie, as she searches through doorways, up and down halls, and finally
lies on the couch to sleep - alone.

ABC Wednesday

OOOH the letter this week is a nice, round fat O

O is for the Onion pie we had for supper last night.

Here is the recipe......

Melt 3 tsps of butter in a large skillet.  

Fry over medium heat until golden 3 cups of onions, peeled and thinly sliced.

Beat 3 eggs with 3 tbsps of sour cream.

Add to the Onion rings with salt and pepper to taste

and just a smidgen of sugar.

Spread into an unbaked pie shell and bake at 350F

for 20 minutes.

Remove from oven and sprinkle with grated cheese.

Then bake for another 10 minutes.

Serve  hOt

The Onion is always delicious but baked in this pie it is Oh so good.

For more interpretations of the letter O visit here, at ABC Wednesday.

Autumn's gentle rain inspires reading, amongst other things!

We have gone from brilliant blue skies and sunshine to gentle mists and subdued colours in 

fall's foliage.  It's lovely......but not the best weather for getting the last 

of the apples picked, alas.

Once the moon has set the mornings are dark before sunrise, and we ate our breakfast this morning with the lights on, and outside Calli prowled until she thought she might join us at the breakfast table and her yellow eyes showed up by the window where she knows Charles will let her in and out.

I have been seduced by the library and the literary columns in the papers.

A few weeks ago, when I was listening to Wallace Stegner and "All the little live things'

while I knitted, I was reminded that there were later books of his that

I had not read, written after my great enthusiasm for his writing about the West, 

and also that of Ivan Doig.

I have snatched moments from busy outside days and lengthened my bedtime reading, and

 now have these to go back to the library.....

Which did I enjoy most?  "Crossing to Safety" was a book I could relate to, 

remembering past friendships, but the Essays on the environment, the West

 and appreciations for other western writers kept my interest to the end and coaxed me into

ordering these Ivan Doig books, to see where he has gone with his writing

since I read Dancing at the Rascal Fair, This House of Sky, English Creek and The Sea Runners.

If you will look closely you will see in this current stash the latest book by

Alexander McCall Smith,  "The Charming Quirks of Others"

Would you like to guess which book my hand falls to as I pass it over

the selection?  Ah yes,  my current delight with the writing of

McCall Smith, with the characters of Isabel Dalhousie, Jamie and Charlie,  will cast a spell over the Charming Quirks, but it will be a quick read and then I can

immerse myself in Doig's stories of Montana. and
Robert McCrum's take on the English language.

And when will I get those blessed socks knit, you ask????

An Autumn drive through the Valley

O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained

With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit

Beneath my shady roof; there thou mayest rest

And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,

And all the daughters of the year shall dance!

Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.

William Blake To Autumn

October has been chiding September for being cold and miserable, and bringing us the consolation of blue skies, still crisp days and the chance to enjoy hours in the garden planting bulbs, moving perennials that have grown too vigorous and crowded into their neighbours space;  removing the dead leaves from the iris and saving seeds from the heritage sweetpeas before piling the wheelbarrow with the fading vines and logging the great large sunflower wheels to put against the fence for the small birds to feed on.

This great gift of time and perfect weather to do garden chores kept us from late afternoon drives to capture the magical things that were happening in the woods, along the roadside, in the orchards and vineyards, and along the creeks.

Finally, on Tuesday, after a short siesta we packed up the camera and started off!

We turn down Beck Road (which always makes me want to call this creek a beck) and  stop on the small bridge, looking to the west and the east down the grass lined banks

and the overhanging trees.

We lingered for a while at Koboa Park, first established as a Centennial Project in the '50's

and now restored and expanded into a wonderful playground, ball park and picnic site, 

outlined round the edges with memorial trees, some planted in memory of pioneer families and

some in memory of those who built on a dream.

It warms Charles' heart that the young people of the community have worked so hard

at maintaining this lovely riverside park and we remember the early days and the

fellowship and hard work that went into those first efforts.  

We turn along the road to Ginty's Pond where we find that while we fiddled in the garden

"autumn burned brightly, a running flame through the mountains, a torch flung to the trees"

and we have missed much of the colour of the willows and the shrubs.

We search in vain for ducks or turtles.

On the other side of the pond, across the meadow, the trees have assumed a more sombre

shade from that of early autumn and are in the shadow of the mountains

that rise above the river.

Sumac and dried grasses line the road as we drive to the other end of the Pond.

I watch for pheasants.  Charles sees a grouse, and we spot a magpie on the telephone line.

When we reach the main Pond we find it edged in slime, and are told by the lady

whose house is built just back from the bank that this is a result of

the contraption built by Public Works to prevent beavers from building dams, 

which of course they are wont to do. 

She didn't seem too interested in listening to Charles' theory about the dead water which

was causing the slime, even though he was at one time the manager of the

water district and has had much experience with beavers and the location in which they

have built dams in the past, down in the farthest reaches of the Pond.

Naturally this problem piques Charles' interest and so we go across country to the road

that leads to the spot where beavers have been causing problems for lo these many years.
At least for the farmers and those who depend on the Pond for other reasons than making it their home.

Along this bottom land a great many houses have sprung up.  Some of them belong

to farmers, but some of them are retirees seeking the stillness of the country.

We have been here long enough to know what devastation the river can cause 

when it floods and Charles mutter dire predictions all along the way.

We come at length to beaver territory....

The shadows are lengthening, - the little dog will be awakening from his afternoon sleep,

and so we turn back to the old familiar road along the benchlands

and head for home.

"Autumn wins you best by this, its mute

Appeal to sympathy for its decay "

Robert Browning

and on a more positive note...

"For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together..  For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad."   Edwin Way Teale

Even though we were late it was a lovely drive.

ABC Wednesday

The Notable letter this week is N

N is for NASH, - Ogden, that is.

Frederick Ogden Nash, an American poet who delighted his readers with light, humorous verse, was born in August of 1902.  He died in 1971.

I discovered him early and some of his books have resided on my shelves since before we (Charles and I) were married, back in antiquity.

From 'Good Intentions', first published in 1937....

So That's Who I Remind Me Of


When I consider men of golden talents,
I'm delighted, in my introverted way,
To discover, as I'm drawing up the balance,
How much we have in common, I and they.


Like Burns, I have a weakness for the bottle,
Like Shakespeare, little Latin and less Greek;
I bite my fingernails like Aristotle;
Like Thackeray, I have a snobbish streak.


I'm afflicted with the vanity of Byron,
I've inherited the spitefulness of Pope;
Like Petrarch, I'm a sucher for a siren,
Like Milton, I've a tendency to mope.


My spelling is suggestive of a Chaucer;
Like Johnson, well, I do not wish to die
(I also drink my coffee from the saucer);
And if Goldsmith was a parrot, so am I.


Like Villon, I have debits by the carload,
Like Swinburne, I'm afraid I need a nurse;
By my dicing is Christopher out-Marlowed,
And I dream as much as Coleridge, only worse.


In comparison with men of golden talents,
I am all a man of talent ought to be;
I resemble every genius in his vice, however heinous -
Yet I write so much like me.

and from YouTube - The Sunset Years of Samuel Shy by Ogden Nash



Though Ogden Nash wrote light humourous poetry the wit and cleverness of his poems earned him spots in American Anthologies of Great Poets.

For more N's do nod over to ABC Wednesday, here.http://abcwednesdayround3.blogspot.com/

Romance and Magic in the Similkameen

The stars were faint at five a.m. and at six

a light skiff of clouds hid any chance of a pretty sunrise.

But by eight the sky was clear and blue

not a cloud to be seen

not a breath of wind in the still October morning

A Perfect Wedding Day

Time stopped and gathered all the jewels of October around it

so that when it was time for the vows to be made

there was magic in the stillness as the Piper played

and the Bride and her father came down the hill and across 

the green where the Groom waited.

A sweet and solemn ceremony

and then the chance for pictures.

In the evening a wonderful reception

dining and dancing, wine and sweet words.

Beautiful wedding and the promise of a wonderful marriage............

Heart of my Heart


Heart of my heart, we are one with the wind,
One with the clouds that are whirled o'er the lea,
One in many, O broken and blind,
One as the waves are at one with the sea!
Ay! When life seems scattered apart,
Darkness, ends as a tale that is told,
One, we are one, O heart of my heart,
One, still one, while the world grows old.
Alfred Noyes

We are soaking up

 each glorious moment of these hazy Autumn days!!!

The garden is packed with fall flowers;  late roses, yellow daisies,

a wonderful array of chrysanthemums, purple asters - 

and here is the last Abraham Darby of the summer!

looking as fresh and lovely as the first bud to open in May.

Charles 'blew the lines' today,

in preparation for the irrigation water being turned off tomorrow.

As he coiled up all the hoses I had a faint feeling of regret

and it was brought home to me that these wonderful warm

Autumn days are a plus, - a dividend, and a wonderful blessing.

I picked a few boxes of Golden Delicious Apples

and on the first day that doesn't draw us outside

we will core and slice them into foil lined pie plates, 

pop them into the freezer and anticipate a winter's worth of 

delicious apple pies.

Tomorrow's forecast is for blue skies and sunshine, - and

the next day too, of course.

It will be Katie and Will's Wedding Day!

Let us celebrate the occasion with wine and sweet words.   Plautus