A hint of proper winter! I know my delight in enjoying a “real” winter isn’t shared by all, but goodness, doesn’t a sprinkle of magic fairy dust, I mean snow, really help lift the mood?!
At last!
It was a race as to who could get out of the door and into the woods the quickest. Scout won, because shoe laces, but I was a close second and off we frolicked. Mrs. PC? Yes, she can do shoe laces as well, and she was with us but not racing. She plays it cool at first snowfall, letting the children make youthful fools of themselves and, quite rightly, feigning not to know us. Why Scout has to kick up snow into the air cackling madly I’ll never know – no wonder Mrs. PC hangs back just a little…
“Why have we stopped? Oh, shoelaces…”
The first decent round of snow wasn’t all that much if I’m honest. Enough to be noteworthy and not disappoint or disappear overnight. On notes, I always think the last remaining leaves look a little like musical notation, a gentle introduction or prelude to the full song and mighty majesty we’re about to enjoy. (This might tell you I was never a success musically in school or all the years after. Years of instruction and to this day I cannot read a note – how does that happen?)
Notes and leaves
What was I doing? There were recorders – instruments of musical torture in the wrong hands, and mine were so very wrong – and drums (“Adam, put the sticks down, you can’t play those unless you can tell me what these notes are?” No drums then…) and all sorts of sonic temptations, but beyond hammering at a glockenspiel I never really achieved much. Sometimes, I wasn’t even allowed a glockenspiel – just a single chime bar was the best I could expect. And even then I’d hit it at the wrong time, much to the music teacher’s delight I’m sure. Oh well. It taught me to be an appreciative audience instead. After all, if we’re all in the band, who buys the tickets?
“Yeah, I’ve heard him sing. Trust me, he’s not musical…”
On winter and music and buying a ticket, we were lucky enough to enjoy Les Violons du Roy perform all of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons a few weeks ago. My wonder and delight with Jonathon Cohen (conductor and harpsichord) continues – his ability to convey enthusiasm and joy and encouragement in his fellow musicians is something to behold. I’ve never seen or heard anything like it! I know the Four Seasons is probably overly familiar, but to hear it played as it was originally composed was very special. As special as the first winter snow…
First snow
Let’s conclude with that attempt at tying together a few loose strings and false notes – thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Scout here. OldPlaidCamper is around, but you know how he can be when elections are won by old xenophobes, criminal misogynist wannabe “strong” men and- well, I could go on but then I’d sound like him, and we all know I’m more chipper and less likely to rant than him. So, while he’s off sulking, this week it’s up to me to provide a post. This is about something, or rather, a something that has been lurking and maybe even tracking us in the woods.
Hiding places
OPC can get twitchy – or squirrelly but not as cute (don’t tell him I said that) – when there’s a rustling in the undergrowth. I’ve explained over and over that there really isn’t anything much larger than a deer in our little neck of the woods, but will he listen? Yes, yes, there’s the troll house, but we’ve never seen the trolls, have we?
The troll house (no trolls though)
Anyway, there we were out in the woods last week, and, yup, there was definitely something different in the vicinity. We paused to listen. A sort of low rustling and then nothing. On we went. There it was again! It stopped just after we did. Now, I’m not the nervous sort, not like a certain almost outdoorsman we all know, but I will admit to being a little spooked. Not spooked or annoyed like I get with ravens and crows, and we all know I’m so calm I’ll sleep through a bear encounter, but this time I was ruffled. We moved on. And there it was again! Hmm.
“Wait! Did you hear that? A scurrying behind us?”
As a child, oops, I mean pup, and just like OPC, I was always drawn to maps in books that had places marked with “Here be dragons” and this was beginning to play on my mind. Could it be… no! So, perhaps it was a troll? Except whatever it was sounded too fleet of foot – not lumbering, far more nimble than that. You’ll never guess what OldPlaidCamper said? “I say, Scout, old thing, I do believe we’re jolly well being stalked by a woodland dragon! How beastly. Shall we hide?” (When he’s nervous, he sounds like a prissy child actor in a Sunday teatime BBC adaptation of one of the Narnia books. You won’t tell him I said that will you?)
Eye rolling moment
Oh, c’mon, OPC. There is no such thing outside of your, oops, I mean my, story books! (I’m beginning to struggle with the narrative voice here. It’s not easy writing this. Never mind all thumbs on a keyboard, or a monkey (as if) with a typewriter – I’m all paws. Nope, not easy…)
Where was I? Oh yes. OPC loves dragons, but, unlike trolls, they only exist in stories. I’ve never seen one – have you? OPC says dragons are more real than a Brexit unicorn frolicking in sunlit uplands, but I usually stop listening when he gets started on that. You know, unicorns.
Here be dragons? Don’t be daft, OPC
This post isn’t going anywhere is it? I thought I’d write something more interesting than his usual man goes for walk with dog then drinks beer. I was aiming to be a bit more elevated. More dog goes for a walk with man then eats kibble, and ending with a soft focus photograph of a bowl of kibble and a caption saying “yum!”
I’ll humour him. “Yes, OPC, something has been lurking here!”
Oh well. I’m tired, and I need to go find OPC, see if he needs a walk and feeding, so let’s leave it here this week. He often finishes with something like that, doesn’t he? “Let’s leave it here this week!” Not me. I’m going to say let’s paws it here this week. Elevated. Oh! I almost forgot, and I’d hate to leave you in suspense – was it a dragon? Yes! Yes it was! A baby dragon:
Yes, that’s right, a baby dragon. (I know, I know, but don’t spoil it for OPC – he’s fragile after recent events…)
A baby dragon?! He insisted on calling it that, bless him. To me it looks a lot like a salamander, but try telling OPC. He is adamant it is a baby dragon. And now, when we go to the woods, he’s all “here be dragons!” each time we turn a corner. I’ve decided it’s best to let him believe it, since it seems to cheer him up, and don’t some of us need that at the moment?
Thanks for reading, and we hope you have a wonderful weekend!
As it turned out, the heights weren’t the highest we’ve hiked, climbed or scrambled in the past, but on a warm fall day, and starting at sea level, the near 1400 feet up felt high enough. Got an endorphin high for sure!
Get high
If you’re ever in the vicinity of Camden, Maine, and you’re looking for a mostly moderate (and, in parts, challenging) hike with spectacular views from the heights, then I heartily recommend the Mt Megunticook Trail at Camden Hills State Park.
Happy trails
The hike up through a red, gold and green mixed forest on well maintained trails is pretty special, and if the trail only meandered through the woods you’d be happy enough.
The bonus is, with a little leg and lung workout up some steep sections (steps made from rock slabs and a couple of short and potentially slippery boulder scrambles if it was a rainy day) you’ll emerge up top and enjoy amazing scenes over Penobscot Bay and across the low hills and mountains of the nearby Maine interior.
Some elevation
I’ll let the photos do the work this week – and, as much as I like these images, honestly, they don’t capture the magnificence of the place. You’ll just have to visit! You’d be dizzy with delight, I promise you!
Delight
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
We hadn’t realized how much we’d been missing the mountains until we found ourselves back in a high region once again.
Towards the lake
The upper reaches of the Parc National de la Gaspésie were absolutely wonderful, and a particular highlight was the lac aux américaines, a small glacial lake and easy destination found at the end of a short trail.
lac aux américaines
The trail is easy, but be warned, the washboard roads are not kind on vehicles, and I wouldn’t have wanted to use a regular low slung car to get up there. Some did, but goodness, the toll on the paintwork and undercarriage…
The road got far more challenging as it climbed!
Anyway, if you find yourself up there, take the short hike and you’ll be rewarded with the prettiest of mountain scenes. We were fortunate to be there on a quiet and sunny day, not too hot and just right to sit and eat your lunch whilst taking in the lake.
Bend in the river
There isn’t a hike around the lake, but there are several longer (day plus) trails crisscrossing the park with routes above the lake. They’d offer some view if you’re willing to take them on!
Long view towards the lake (from much further back!)
We weren’t in full mountain hike mode, and were quite content to tackle shorter and moderate half day at most rambles. We saw long views, pretty river bends, tumbling waterfalls and rushing waters, and all on sunny days where the early fall light gave everything a slightly golden feel.
Tumbling
The only day where the weather threatened was on our half day lake paddle. It got very dark, a touch breezy, and there were actual raindrops. Raindrops, maybe as many as twenty or thirty. Hardly a deluge, I think we dodged one there.
More about this next week
Anyway, this was supposed to be about the mountains. Mountains! More on the paddling next week! Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Steps away from our campsite! Perfect sights and sounds…
Meandering? Us? Never! Well, maybe… Read on if you’ve the time and patience for something slow going nowhere in particular!
We’ve just got back from a short road and extended camping trip to Parc national d’Opemican. The park is about a ten hour drive from Quebec City. If you want to, you can make the trip from here to there in one long driving day, but we took two days, travelling more slowly, stopping often.
Stopping often, can’t think why
Our route passed through Montreal and Ottawa because that appeared to be the most direct. Did I mention travelling more slowly? The summer highway construction season all but assures you’re taking things slowly, so it was on with the tunes (yup, the Hip), down with the windows (and then back up because, city traffic fumes and humidity) and try to enjoy the construction enforced leisurely pace. I do like driving with windows rolled down if we’re moving at a (legal) pace that generates cool air. I know, my hair, but sometimes you’ve just got to go with it.
Picnic stop. Loads of time. Loads of cheese. Lots of cherries. Few bugs.
With Montreal and Ottawa in the rear view, things out of the (rolled down) windows get a good deal more interesting. The Ottawa Valley is wide and green and pleasantly agricultural before becoming increasingly wooded, rugged and wild as it swings northwest.
Approaching Opemican we’d ask are we in Ontario or are we in Quebec? Erm, yes? The river is the border between the two provinces, and we crisscrossed it a few times. I loved moving along(side) the river on those lazy hazy summer days. Later in the week I got to paddle on it. Marvellous. More on that in another post I suspect.
Ottawa River
Earlier, we’d stopped in Arnprior, ON, to meet an old school friend, or rather, old school teaching friend and colleague from our time in Calgary. A wonderful teacher, it was P who gave me a copy of “Hatchet” by Gary Paulsen as she thought I might like it. She was right, and it influenced much of what I taught. With the novel as a starting point, students explored so many aspects about what it means to be in Canada. New Canadian, settler, refugee or First Nation, I’m almost certain every single student enjoyed the novel and how we uncovered so many areas of the curriculum. Geography, language, math, natural sciences, artistic expression, personal responsibility, risk taking, decision making, finding solutions, and remembering to never, ever bother a moose. So much in one short novel! If I ever return to the classroom, it’ll be with a copy of Hatchet in my back pocket… I owe P so much! So I bought her a beer.
Lazy afternoon with a hazy beer – highly recommended NEIPA
P was in fine form. We’d always hoped to meet up at her family cottage near Bobcaygeon but never got to doing that and the cabin changed hands last summer. Fortuitously, we all happened to be passing through Arnprior the same weekend, and, just as fortuitously, the Cold Bear Brewing Company was open, served splendid beer, and was the most dog (and people) friendly brewery we’ve been to so far.
Arnprior, ON
We’ll get to Arnprior again one day, explore a bit more, as it seemed a pleasant little riverside town. We couldn’t stay long this time as it was on the next day to rendezvous with my brother and his partner at Opemican.
I’ll write more about the fabulous week we had in a future post, but I’ll finish by saying if you ever go camping and want a mosquito distractor, some bait that’ll keep the little blighters away from you, then go with my brother. He’s a mosquito magnet! Every mosquito in western Quebec wanted to meet him. And only him. I have to say he complained far less than I would have, so hats off for that – and then back on again quickly, just in case. (If you have bought shares in any bug deterrent products in the past month, it was my brother who made your fortune!) Poor guy tried everything, to no avail. He’s quite a builder and tinkerer, and he left muttering something about creating a personal mini laser system to shoot down mosquitoes. I wouldn’t put it past him, but he wouldn’t be happy about the military-industrial complex knocking on his door and asking for the blueprints as a matter of national security.
“What bugs? Be chill, man!” Scout, going with the contours and the flow at Opemican
More to follow! Thanks for reading and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Buzzing
PS Now we’re home for a few days, I’ll be catching up on your posts and any comments over the weekend and into next week! (We were pretty much off grid for ten days – did anything happen while we were away? Scans headlines. Oh…)
Refusing to be put off by our recent black fly challenges (and armed with a new bug screen dome and lotion with possibly high radiation equivalent levels of DEET) we set off for a relatively mountainous region an hour or so northwest of Quebec City.
Bug proof
I was encouraged as the route changed from six lane highway to two lane black top (with narrow single lane bridges over small rivers and streams) to a range road that became a dirt track the last few kilometres. We were hoping for something a little remote – our booking advised no electricity or running water and very little cell coverage (all true) – and when we checked in at the office, the friendly welcome and laidback attitude boded well. Also, yes, the campground a few hundred metres away might not have any modern services, but, bonus, was that a fridge full of cold local beers? Well, I’m not saying, but Mrs. PC seemed particularly happy…
A selection of cold locals – the beer, not the people!
Our site was large, shaded and quiet. Spacious enough to accommodate our tent, the truck and the larger than expected dome tent bug screen. My first apartment was smaller. We put it up over the provided bench and picnic table with room to spare. Great for Scout to wander around “indoors but outside” and off leash.
The great indoors
The black fly count was far lower than our previous outing, and we’d have probably been ok without the screen, but it was pleasant to be able to rustle up and eat meals without any bugstractions.
We’re meeting up with friends/family next week, another camping trip, on the Quebec-Ontario border just north of Algonquin Park. I understand it can be a little buggy there, so we’ll be able to entertain in numbers under the dome. Or if not entertain (yeah, they’ve heard our stories before) then at least be comfortable.
A gem!
Anyway, back to the Vallée Bras-du-Nord – it is a gem! Mountainous and green, a pretty valley with great hiking and biking trails and lots of camping options. It would be fun to snowshoe or xc ski in winter, and it has the feel of being a fishing place? I’m not too sure of the fishing scene in Quebec. The rivers and streams are plentiful and appear clean to the untrained eye.
Leafy
We hiked a couple of trails, and our favourite was to the Delaney Falls. My camera was dying, but I managed a few shots. Honestly, if you ever find yourself out that way, the one hour each way hike from Shannahan Information Centre to the falls is a winner. It is leafy and relatively flat along the river valley bottom with a short rise to the falls on well constructed forest trails. Roots, rocks and puddles make it one to watch where you step, but nothing too strenuous, and a perfect length for a warm day. Take bug spray and water and all will be well!
Delaney Falls
Our evenings were warm, one or two sharp rain showers aside, and the best sight in the later evenings was the lightning bugs. Loved seeing those. Only a few, and flashing on and off through the darkening trees. For me, they made camping seem like, well, camping!
Friendly and local
We’re hoping to return in the fall, most likely for a daylong outing to check out the leaf colour and enjoy a vigorous hike on a fresh fall day.
Always friendly, always ready for a hike – any season!
Not too sure about how connected we’ll be internet-wise for the next week or two. I’ll aim to post a short something at the end of the week as usual, and then catch up on my reading after we return home.
A return to these falls in fall? Maybe…
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
We almost missed these, what with being busy and the very hot weather. (Next year we’ll ensure we’re busy visiting the lilacs, properly busy, and not running administrative errands in lilac season!) We did catch them, slightly past their best, but aromatic and pretty enough, or so we thought. Aren’t we all a touch wilted yet aromatic once the heat arrives? No?! Just me then…
Wilted? No!
If you don’t know it or haven’t visited, Le Parc du Bois-de-Coulonge is a little, or not so little, additional oasis of green a short walk from the Plains of Abraham. I think the two are connected if you take the riverside route, and I’ll give that a go sometime when it is less hot! The route up is steep, so to date we’ve stayed on the upper ground and walk between the two parks. Also, this time out, our picnic might have been weighing us down – or I’m just lazy in the warmer weather, too lazy to scale any heights?
Above the river
I’m no botanist, but I do know there are many types of lilacs, and I enjoyed seeing the different shades between the ones grown in the park. On approach, from quite some distance, you can smell the lilacs long before you see them. I like the aroma, a touch heady but not too cloying. Not like the aftershaves I used in my younger clean shaven and pre-grizzled days. Those “fragrances”! Not so much cloying as eye-wateringly dangerous. Useful for clearing a room, and to this day I’m always surprised Mrs. PC wasn’t too put off…
Fragrant
We’re off on our next camping adventure, a week or more up in the Saguenay area. Recommended to us by friends as a pretty region to visit, so long as you’re not dressed as a moose in hunting season. I’ve checked the calendar and my outfits and I think we’ll be ok. It’s a land of lakes and trees and absolutely no biting insects. (If I’m wrong about the biting insects, I think I’ve a few dregs of those dodgy old aftershaves that’ll keep ‘em at bay…)
Pretty
Not remote remote, but I’m not too sure if we’ll have much internet connectivity, which is mostly fine. I’ll catch up on your blogs and comments at essential coffee stops or when we get home!
Lilacs in the park!
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
We’re away for the next little while, taking some time to test out our new tent and rediscovering the delights of woodland camping.
We’ve been getting into shape, a rigorous fitness plan, and one I’d recommend. It’s achieved mostly by eating all the cheeses on picnics, and then taking slow hikes around the Plains of Abraham.
Not so plain
Here we are below, exiting the frame bottom left. Imagine the shutter speeds necessary to capture us moving so fast…
Must dash
I’ll catch up on your blogs and any comments from the past week next week, when we’re home and with reliable internet. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
As I write this (Wednesday) it is snowing! I love winter and I love snow, but it is late April now and we wouldn’t mind an escape. We’re making plans, and they mostly feature a tent. Next month? In a tent? We’re quite intent on seeing it happen. Oh dear…
Snow?! Come on PC, barely…
Hard to believe, but yesterday we were in shirtsleeves on the deck drinking our morning coffee. To be fair, snow aside, we could do that every morning if we really wanted to. So many food and drink pieces the last few weeks. Coffee on the deck this week, the two in a row prison and food stories told here the past couple of weeks, and now this one is called Escape plans – do we have a third prison tale? (And a broken promise?)
No no! Late winter cabin fever, that’s all. I’m stuck. The walls are closing in! No more prison stories this week, not after two weeks. Instead, let’s escape, break out (stop it, PlaidCamper) and make a run for it, to the woods. They’ll never find us there…
Hiding place
Yes, we have had enough dry days for the ground to be less soggy and make walking in the woods a more or less everyday event – until the mosquitoes hatch. Scout has been very pleased by our woodland return, and it’s been an effort to keep up with her.
Troll territory
Of course we had to check in with the trolls. The ground had been trampled all about, but no sign of the trolls themselves. Sensibly, they keep out of sight, not wanting the publicity. It’s bad enough I take pictures of their house. That is bad of me, since trolls must be an endangered species – after all, have you ever seen one? (I don’t mean the trolls that, mentally or literally, have never left the parental home, and are living in the basement, sad little things, fighting culture wars and being aggrieved ‘cos, oh I don’t know, bathrooms and toilets are binary/non binary or gendered or some sh*t – honestly, keyboard warriors, do you think a toilet even cares if you’re non-dangly/dangly? There’s so much going on and wrong in the world, but our brave culture warriors want to fight about potty time and get offended that a s/he/they person is using the “wrong” bathroom. Ok…)
My advice, readers? Ignore him, he’ll stop, eventually…
Tangent alert! Oops! Too late. Instead, let’s pretend I care enough about forest trolls to pretend to go along with the story they aren’t real. (Huh?!) So, they aren’t real, and they don’t live in a stone house in the woods behind us. Forget I mentioned them. And forget all the dangly stuff. And, I don’t know, maybe forget this entire post? It must be the cabin fever talking – let’s get out of here. Quite potty. I should go now. To the bathroom? Oh dear…
“Man, weeping”
A brief post this week since I can’t talk about trolls or prison. Or bathrooms. It’s like I’ve been shackled. It’s definitely time to make an escape!
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Morning coffee here? Why not, if you really want to…“Has he gone? (He’s lost it you know…)”
We were wandering around the old town the other day, the day of the eclipse, not that that was primarily why we were out. It was the first properly warm and sunny day of the year, with bright blue skies up above, and shirtsleeve temperatures down below. A sunny day? Well off we go! Yeah, yeah, lovely and all, PlaidCamper, but the title is “The prison incident” – so come on, spill!
Old town sunny day blues
I’d tell you an eclipse tale if we had one, but being just outside the zone of totalitarianism, we weren’t going to get full darkness. No, it was the zone of partial socialism for us, and it worked well enough. Eerie twilight fell, the birds went silent, a breeze picked up, temperatures dropped briefly, and a few minutes later it was over. Special, but nothing like the amazing scenes my brother sent from his zone of totality. Uh-huh, ok, but the prison incident?!
Eerie eclipse twilight – in real time it was darker than this image shows
So no, we were not on the Plains of Abraham for the eclipse, but for a day to wander under the blue sky and in the almost greens. The plains are beginning to look a touch less brown and slightly more green. Hooray!
Greens are good – but they do have to be the right greens. The right greens, PlaidCamper? Yes, the right greens! Let’s tell a story and let’s call it “The Prison Incident!” It’ll come with a cinema style warning. Some scenes may upset readers/viewers of a sensitive nature. This is not for the faint of heart. Cue the movie trailer voiceover tone: In a world where brutal institutionalism is the norm, there comes a young hero wearing NHS spectacles and a slightly grubby school uniform. This is a tale of one man fighting injustice, taking on the system, unyielding in his belief that— Nope, no, cut, cut, cut, can’t do it! It’s not that exciting. It’s not even set in a prison. You still here?!
In a world…
Shall we just tell the story? Try again? Ok. There’s no arguing that greens are generally good for you, unless you’re (sometimes sensibly) an obstinate six or seven year old. Picture the boy, a schoolchild recently arrived at his new institution, and sitting alone in a dining hall. In front of him a plate of untouched and slowly congealing “greens” – what sort of green vegetable they might have been six hours earlier (for that, surely, was when they first went into the boiling water?) is simply impossible to tell.
Aiming to tell a tale – who’s in the line of fire?
Under the watchful eye of two grim faced prison guards, oops, I mean school dinner supervisors, the young prisoner was quietly sobbing as he waited for his mother to arrive. He’d eaten the creamed potatoes without vomiting. He’d even kept down the browned mince and gravy, including the gristly bits that couldn’t be chewed into full submission. But the greens? Greys? No, no way, he just couldn’t do it.
He had watched his new friends clear most of what was on their plates – how?! – and be allowed outside. The hall had emptied. It was now just him, the guards, and the plate. He could hear playtime laughter coming from the yard. He tried again, lifting a fork of greens but, oh boy, the smell, the look. No, he genuinely couldn’t. Still the guards insisted. He wasn’t going to leave the table until he finished his food. His mother had been called! Did he want to disappoint her? Eat your greens, child! Stand off. Stalemate. Congealed plate.
A forbidding institution
His mother arrived, believing her child had been misbehaving. Not beyond the bounds of possibility – he wasn’t a difficult child, but trouble could find him, as it could with any young one. And, like any young one, he was sometimes curious to see where trouble might lead him, explore the boundaries and find out how far he could step past them. But this wasn’t one of those times.
Go on?
So yes, his mother arrived, quite prepared to chastise her boy for any wrong doing, and encourage him to behave as expected. Yet when she saw what was happening, she was incensed. The guards did not understand her anger. She’d been called in to help wrangle the new inmate. The issue was the inmate refusing to eat as instructed, could she not see that? The mother asked the guards to look closely at the untouched heap of greens. Would either of them care to eat what was on the plate? The guards looked a bit uncomfortable. Well, erm, actually, no.
A pleasing green
To be clear, the inmate’s mother was a very firm believer in not wasting food, and she didn’t entertain food fussiness or fads. If she’d cooked something, you were going to eat it, end of. However, she was also consistent with if she’d taken the time to cook and present a meal, then it should and would be edible, appealing and nutritious. Edible, appealing and nutritious. All three, always. Anyway, back to the prison scene.
The prison governor was summoned to sort out the ugly situation and to placate the angry mother. Those two guards were in her line of fire, not somewhere you wanted to be. It did not look like ending well. But wait! The governor turned out to be an actual reasonable person, and saw to it that reason won the day. He listened to the mother, heard about edible, appealing and nutritious. He looked at the plate of uneaten greens. Edible, appealing and nutritious? Well, given the evidence, that was that.
(An aside in a post and story and week full of asides – the head teacher of the school in question was a genuinely splendid man. He was close to retirement, and did so deservedly a year or two later. I hear he encouraged the young prisoner in this tale to read, read, and then read some more. Don’t know a word? Sound it out, give it a go! Look it up in a dictionary! And he didn’t laugh when fatigue was sounded out as fat-ee-goo. The young prisoner in this story still looks back fondly, smiling when he remembers that wonderfully inspiring and gentle man…)
Empty, and seemingly almost endless! Almost like a story by…
The old governor assured both the angry mother and the young prisoner that never again would an inmate be forced to eat something he could not keep down. He listened to the young prisoner say he had tried, sir, he really had, but all that happened was retching and gagging. (Would you believe the inmate was in fact quite fat-ee-goo-ed as a result of all the retching?)
Happily, the now smiling young inmate was released into the yard to join his peers. He continued to eat school dinners, and the menu continued to include, from time to time, creamed potatoes, mince and greens. The difference was that students were able to politely decline a serving of something they did not wish to eat. Phew! He was forever grateful to his mother, for what she did as described above, and also for the many other ways in which she is a great mother.
Still here! These bars! Any chance of escape?
There’s no real point to this tale – maybe, at a stretch, the notion that things don’t always have to be difficult, and small changes won’t cause the sky to fall in? I was prompted to write it after I walked past the open window of a nearby house the other day. Out wafted the cooking scents of browning mince and boiled greens. Scout was slightly perturbed by my gagging and retching. We barely made it home…
Aside after aside this week, so let’s have another. Unlike fresh greens, watching or reading too much daily news isn’t good for me, so I think I’ll be cutting back again. It’s hard to balance trying to be informed with maintaining some optimism in the face of what is reported… Anyway, what is it that ails people like Sunak or Johnson, or Putin, or the mango hued man and all their supporters? Othering people, bombing civilians, denying climate change, denying elections, gerrymandering, telling verifiable lies – to what end? Wanting more money, more power, more attention, as if the flaunting of wealth and power is a measure of success? Really? That’s what you want?! Goodness! Alright, that’s the last of the asides for this week.
We’ve been all over the place in this one, haven’t we? It wasn’t a straight line, but there you have it – the prison incident! Could it be an almost true story?! And yes, there are far, far worse things happening daily out in our present day real world, but wouldn’t it be nice if a plate of inedible greens was the (not particularly) worst thing ever to happen to a child, any child? (Most) of us have had it pretty easy, haven’t we?
Strangely, somewhat inexplicably given what happened, in the more than half a century since the prison incident, the now not so young ex-inmate has always enjoyed eating his greens, with an odd over-fondness (as far as his other half is concerned) for most greens – kale, chard, broccoli, sprouts, spinach, string beans, mange-tout, avocado and all.
Time to finish up – easier to finish this up than that old plate, let me tell you. Yes, we had an enjoyable old town day earlier this week, with a few spring greens and wonderful sky blues!
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
PS Do you want to hear the one about school dinner semolina pudding? Thought not – I’d be retching too…
OldPlaidCamper 