Garden Notes — May 2008

If posting has been a little scarce this past week, I have one word in reply: garden. This being Ontario, and also being the Victoria Day weekend, it’s time for the annual horticultural frenzy. I have been happily digging in my rotten nasty old clay, getting dirt under my nails, battling blackflies (fierce and bloodthirsty this week: I have several [...]

Sweet Music

Some random reflections on listening to classical music driving to work:
Some pieces of music you greet like an old friend.  In this category are pieces like Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos (any of them), the first movement of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 6 and Respighi’s Ancient Airs and Dances.  Choral and vocal music is best for exalted feeling, though [...]

Our Sally Fields Moment

A month ago, a band of down-on-their-luck grifters and layabouts started a little blog called The Stray Dog Cafe.  Nineteen posts and 339 gallons of strong coffee later we have had 962 page views.  We are immensely gratified and excited about this. . . in fact. . .

Like Sally Fields, just more so
We are verklempt. We [...]

Obama, Hawking and the Search for Intelligent Life in the Universe

So I spent the week pissing around with a post.  I used up hours marshalling facts, arguments and raw data, pondering over whether this phrase or that represented le mot juste, and generally parsing nothing at all.  My opus major was to be on the topic of Islam and Europe, and the hysteria contained therein, and about [...]

When Will the Horror End?

Two glorious days of real spring weather and we are all getting a little giddy. I’m spontaneously bursting into song, the turkey hen making come hither eyes at the toms, and even the horses are laying around in the sun. The Little Ouse River, normally so sluggish us locals call it the Little Ooze…

On Vespa Mechanics

A reflections on the joys of Vespa mechanics

The Dawning of the Age of Asparagus

Meanwhile, back in Peterborough County, winter has settled in for an extended engagement until mid-June, approximately, because we’re all enjoying it so much. The snow, which ought to be gone, or nearly so, stretches across the fields, an infinity of tiresome whiteness. No one can remember so much snow on the ground this late in [...]