Hitchcock

This school is right next door to my parent's house (it was my elementary school). On the other side of their house is the yard with the damage (see last post). These pictures are taken from the third floor (it's a 3-storey basement-at-ground-level house). Check out all the crows in the trees in the distance. In flight it resembles a Hitchcock movie.

Chaos theory, or unforeseeable consequences

Can you believe this? This is what the crows are doing to lawns in Vancouver. This is next door to my parent's house. This lady has always kept her lawn immaculate, even though her husband died many, many years ago after complications from a stroke.

If you've not heard, crows are a huge problem in Vancouver. My parents' house is right in their daily migration path, and around dusk the sky is black as they make their way to the area where they roost/nest for the night. If you inadvertently come too close to a nest of theirs, they will swoop, dive and peck you on the head. One theory being posited for what the crows are doing to lawns like this all over Vancouver is that recently the city switched to small garbage-bins for all private residences, sort of a dumpster-in-mini-form for every house. These dumpsters the crows cannot get into. So, perhaps they are hungry now. They used to eat a lot of garbage, strewing the weekly trash all over back allies and around people's front lawns. Now, this. Who would have thought that a well intentioned plan of cleaning up the garbage would have caused this. My parents have not yet been hit. I suppose it's only a matter of time, though.

Yeah, right. It's just a coincidence.

The verdict is in. Saddam Hussein shall hang. Does anyone else find it suspicious that this news comes out the day before midterm elections?

"When I Was" Song Series #2

I was 33-ish (ahem, not so long ago), and living in Vancouver with my husband or husband-to-be (I don't remember whether we were married or not yet). We had two horses which we were boarding at a farm in one of the outlying communities. It had been my dream to own a horse again; having had two while growing up at various times, once when I was living at home still, and another time when I had a shared accommodation thing at a small hobby farm and was able to have my own horse. But it had been many years, and so I acquired this thoroughbred who was in many ways very sweet. Her name was "Porky". She was an ex-racehorse without the heart of a racehorse. Probably her name should have been "Pokey". The reason for the name was that she would eat anything: ham sandwiches, she'd drink coffee, etc. Later we got another horse, a Quarterhorse-Arab. Both were boarded at this place. I became friends with the girl who ran the farm, very good friends, though since we moved away, we've lost touch for the most part. I used to love driving out to the farm. I wanted so badly to live in the country, and I was living that vicariously. At the barn, a radio used to play with a pop music station, and at that time, "Tubthumping" by Chumbawamba was so popular. It was always on the radio and I loved it. I know that while so obvious, it really did give me an inspiring little lift.

When we left Vancouver we moved to the outskirts of Calgary and rented an acreage and we were able to have the horses with us. Since then we have sold the horses and bought a place in Calgary. When I went back for a visit, I drove out to the barn, and I had really been Linda, the girl who ran the barn. The place we had moved to, while in the country, had not lived up to my expectations as the friendly, bucolic community I had so badly wanted to live in. We lived on the outskirts of Calgary for about 4 1/2 years before we sold the horses and moved into the city.

And the song came on as I drove out there and I got so emotional I actually had to turn it off.

Okay, the chronology in case it's not clear:

• met hubby
• got married
• got a horse
• boarded it with Linda
• got another horse
• moved to the outskirts of Calgary onto rented acreage
• visited Vancouver and went to visit my friend out at the farm
  
• continued to live on that rented acreage for a few more years
• sold the horses and chickens and moved into Calgary into a purchased house
• live there still; don't ride anymore (not sad about that)

Now whenever I hear that song I think about Linda, the barn, and I wonder, too, why the dream, the way I felt about living in the country evaporated. I have some ideas, but I'll explore them another time.