November came and went...like a lion!

It's not only March that can come in like a lion; we had a rather wild start to November.

It all started out innocently enough, the weather forecast was for about two inches of snow. Well, 2 inches or 5 cm for those who think in metric, isn't a lot to worry about in a place that routinely sees 100 inches/ 254 cm over a winter.

Yet despite all the high-tech instruments, the satellite photos, and what have you, the "about 2 inches" turned instead to "a foot or more" (12 inches/ 30.5 cm), and was I think the heaviest snow I have ever shovelled. A shovelful weighed about 45 lbs (20.4 kg). I know, because the kitty litter comes in
40 lb bags (18.2 kg) and the shovelful felt a tad heavier than that.

It was heavy, heavy snow, and as it fell thickly, it was accompanied by high winds. Not just gusts, which were higher still, but the average wind was 50 mph (80 km/h) for much of the time. My piano teacher told me he had to pick up his son, and while driving in a blizzard isn't his favourite thing to do, he has done it any number of times since he's lived most of his life in snowy places. But this was the worst ever drive he had because it wasn't just blinding snow that was unbelievably heavy. The high winds plus heavy snow snapped a lot of trees like twigs, so as he drove, he saw debris fly past as well as snow. Huge limbs airborne like feathers. He likened it to being in the Wizard of Oz when you see all sorts of things flying in the air.

I was home during the storm and looked out to see every branch of the huge white lilac on the ground. It was hard to know if all the branches were broken or just weighted down with the heavy snow. I went out to shake off the snow that I could, and maybe drag a few of the broken limbs away. As I was out there, with snow at least 6 inches (15 cm) by that point and showing no signs of stopping, I was surprised to find about half the branches weren't broken, merely weighted down. I dragged some of the big broken ones over to a spot between the lilac and the large hemlocks or cedars that are behind the barn, where they wouldn't be in the way once the snow was done. I wasn't out there long, maybe 25 minutes, and during that time, I heard four distinct cracks and saw huge limbs or whole trees fall in the back yard. The time between the crack and the fall was no more than five seconds, and most were within three seconds. Crack! and then a quiet whoosh.

I felt a lurch within my stomach, walked away from the lilac, to the front yard, past the barn, and to look at the boat in the side yard. So far, so good.

I then felt very unsafe and a quiet, persistent urging to go back inside and wait out the storm.

After I was back inside, the power went out. I watched a man in a Jeep Cherokee get stuck in my driveway when he wanted to turn around. He got the car out only after some coaxing by gunning the gas and letting off it to jar the car forward, and once out on the roadway, he fishtailed down to the stop sign. He wasn't driving fast at all, and I called the hockey coordinator to let her know I wasn't going to be at the rink to play later that afternoon. She said she'd already sent an email to everyone and posted on facebook. But, as I had no power, I didn't see either message.

Before daylight completely waned, I started up the coal stove, glad that I had dry firewood in the house, waiting to be used. I had thought to turn up the house heat once I saw that we were in for more snow than what was forecasted, so the house was a bit warmer than what it would have normally been, but not as hot as it would have been, had I thought to turn the heat up earlier.

I had a lantern with an emergency candle ready, I wound up all the wind-up flashlights (torches) and lanterns. I found the wind-up radio and had that ready.

When gathering things, I noticed the tree on the corner by the barn side waving strangely. The last crack i'd heard must have meant one of its branches had fallen. I went back downstairs and looked out back. I had been back inside the house for a little less than an hour and saw that one of the huge hemlocks/cedars had fallen on top of the broken lilac branches I had piled together. I was glad to have listened to that quiet, persistent urging to go back inside.

Himself was away, and I felt alone and forlorn. Glad that I'd come back in, and then overwhelmed by that sense of it could have been me as I looked again at the huge hemlock on the lilac branch pile. I looked around for the cats, and went into my office where the coal stove was.

Both were stretched out in front of the fire, luxuriating in the heat. Perfectly content and peaceful, and it did my heart good to see that. They were dry. Safe. Warm. And I looked around to see that I was, too. I had plenty of food on hand for them and me. I had two alcohol stoves that i'd gotten for the boat that I could use for cooking if the coal stove didn't answer. I'm on public water, so I could get water without worry, and if needed, I could draw water from the old hand-dug well to flush toilets.

And so I settled in, and found myself wanting to go to bed about 7:30 pm. It was dark as pitch outside, and there wasn't much to do. I listened to the wind-up radio and realized I wasn't sure what radio station would have emergency announcements. I listened to the end of a Bible study program as I moved the dial. The woman was an enigmatic speaker and she was summarizing her talk. I paused to listen and she prayed for anyone listening who needed help just then, who felt alone or frightened, who was in the midst of a storm. I smiled as I was alone and in the midst of a storm, but looking at the contented kitties, I wasn't frightened. I ended up listening to a French station in Montreal for awhile and then made my way to bed.

The next morning dawned sunny and bright. Trees were down everywhere, some snapped off, some simply weighed down by the heavy snow. The hemlocks or cedars bowed and some were on the clothesline. One of the supports had leaned forward but didn't break off. A few more of the lilac limbs broke during the night and I went outside to do what I could for cleanup. I walked in the front yard, in front of the barn over to the far side, and there I saw a huge tree had fallen. Well, a part of it anyhow. It was my neighbour's tree, one that was crotched with two main supports and a third, like an upside down stool. The third leg, which was closest to my house, had shorn off, and the wind carried it just enough so that when it came down, it hit the bow pulpit of the boat. I blinked a few times to absorb the sight. That's why I saw the branch waving in that funny way the day before. And this third of the tree fell where I had been when I walked over to check on the boat.

There was still no power and thankfully, I had charged up my cell phone. My landline was still working, so I called my boss to let her know that I was still without power and no business phone line (digital) or Internet. I called my ISP and they had no estimated time of when things would be back up and running.

The next few days were a blur. My power came back on late in the second day. I had taken a heavy contractor's bag, filled it with snow, and put it in the half-filled freezer to save the food in there. I waited over 24 hours before opening the fridge door to get a couple eggs to cook. On Wednesday, my boss wanted me to see if I could get a signal someplace, and I was able to get one at my local library. Power lines running across the road beside the library were typically not noticeable, as they were high in the air, but on that Wednesday, they were about a yard/metre off the ground, with brightly coloured streamers on them to warn would-be motorists to steer clear.

I downloaded my work emails, answered those that needed answering and had enough work to keep me busy the next day, even if I didn't get back online.

My drive to the library and home was a short one, but the devastation was apparent. Some of the larger trees had been cleared away from the main roads, but in some cases, only those parts that blocked the roadway had been cut. Huge, majestic trees that offered tons of shade in summer were lying on the ground, leaves still green. A road was closed because of downed power lines, and I saw a telephone pole lying diagonally across the road.

My neighbours were unbelievably kind and helpful. I wanted to get the tree off the boat, yet I knew the way it was positioned would mean i'd need to spend many hours with a chainsaw over my head, and that didn't feel safe to me. Plan B was to use my Pocket Boy® a wonderfully sharp saw that folded like a knife and cut away the branches on the boat and deal with the rest after most of the snow had melted, as the weather was to warm up.

And so it was, I was out there sawing, wearing my head and face gear i'd needed for my chainsaw class, when my former plowman's wife drove past. She had one of her sons and his friend with her, and they offered to help. If I had a chainsaw....

I did and told them it'd been a while since it had been started. The friend was 6'4" and could easily cut the branch I desperately wanted to cut off but felt unsafe doing it by myself having to stand on a 2×10 board across two saw horses so I could reach it properly with the chainsaw. So, my Plan B was to go out with Pocket Boy and cut away what I could in smaller bites.

I congratulated myself taking loads of pics with the digital camera that I could send to the insurance company, and Tall Friend started the chain saw on the tenth pull, and in three minutes had sawn the large branch and Son pulled it off the boat. They were tall enough to do so.

Plowman's wife offered to let them do more, but I didn't want to be a bother, so thanked her and told her I basically just wanted the tree off the boat. Everything else was okay as was.

Plowman stopped by later, and he burns a lot of wood in his outside boiler. We chatted a bit, he told me he'd sold his plow truck in the summer and Adam was taking over for him. Adam had shown up at my house with a backhoe to move snow around a couple times when it looked as though there wasn't going to be enough room to push the snow aside before we were done with snow for the year. I asked Plowman if he wanted the wood from the tree. If so, he was welcome to it, I needed to get some work stuff done, but planned on having a date with my chainsaw that Saturday to cut up what I could.

Plowman thanked me, showed up on Thursday and cut up not just that tree but the large hemlock/cedar that fell in the back, and a few other smaller trees, too.

Kind neighbour Bob from up the street told me to use his trailer to take my brush to the dump. To use it for several days until I could get the cleanup done. I had loaded it up one day and ran out of time to take it to the dump. Next day, I had an errand and figured on the way back from my errand, i'd hitch the trailer to the truck and take it to the dump. When I got home, the trailer was gone.

I called Kind Neighbour Bob's house. His wife answered. Bob had gone to the dump, saw the trailer all full and waiting, so he hitched it to his car and ran it over. He stopped by on his way back, dropped it off by the large pile of brush still waiting to be taken, and went on home. He hadn't stopped in to say hi, as he didn't think I was back from my errand yet.

People who've lived here their whole lives thus far say they can't remember a storm like this one. But they won't forget it, that's for sure.

Most places have been more or less cleaned up, and the day before Thanksgiving, we got another big snow. It wasn't quite as heavy, but I went to shake it off the trees as they were still a bit bent from the earlier storm. A few places lost power, but thankfully, I wasn't one of them.

Himself was here, the coal stove was merrily burning, and we spent Thanksgiving cooking and shovelling out. Friday, we went snowshoeing.

I made a success/failure/serendipity/lessons learned list after that first storm. I'm glad to say there were more successes than failures and little moments of serendipity that were a wonderful balm. Such as the hot water heater having heated the water to as hot as it gets before the power went out, so that for the two days I was without power, the hot water was at least warmish. That I had succumbed to the siren song of Oreo cookies and had bought a bag just beforehand.

Successes included having enough stores on hand so I could stay off the roads, and I could offer a place for people to stay if things got too cold at their place.

Lessons learned included that although I had the alcohol stoves, I had yet to use them, so that was a failure, yes, but my plan going forward is to have a "prep weekend" where one weekend a month, I focus on some emergency tool and really learn how to use it. Like the alcohol stove. Or, to find out which stations carry emergency information, and can I get those on the wind-up radio.

The storm shook many people to their cores, and it was a reminder to me how complacent I've become. I can't be forever vigilant because that'll burn me out in the long run, but I can pay a bit more attention to what I have on hand, make sure I know how to use it, and to practice.

Incommunicado, but not by choice

I've not fallen off the face of the earth, I simply couldn't get into my blog to write anything.

Now that i'm finally able to get back in, i'm inundated with work things and have little time to write.

sigh.

I've also a mountain of blog reading to catch up on.

Short version chez moi has been two big snowstorms in November, one at the beginning of the month, which knocked out the electrics and Interwebz for up to a week (although my electricity was restored after two days), and one at the end, in time for Thanksgiving. We went snowshoeing the day after and had fun. Also a reminder of how out of shape we were.

And here we are on the first day of the last month of the year. The wreath is up on the front door, we're down to the last five inches/ ~12.5 cm of snow, and the sun is shining!

Another goal realised

On my Life List, I've had all sorts of things appear. One, which I mentioned earlier, here, was to learn to play the piano, which has been on the list a long time, and which i'm doing.

A recent addition has been sampling Scotch eggs. Yes, that gay Welsh raconteur as Tom Gowans calls John (how I miss Tom's blog, Hippo on the Lawn, and hope all is well by him); anyhow, yes, the inimitable John of Going Gently, mentions scoffing Scotch eggs on occasion, and I thought it might be nice to try one and see what I thought.

Of course, we've no Tesco's or Sainsbury's nearby where I can just pop around and try one, and sometimes searching for recipes online can lead one down a crazy rabbit hole. Some months back, I had a wild hair about wanting to get an old Watkins cookbook and bid for two of them ebay. Very low bids as I had been outbid on several and decided rather than win both, i'd have low bids so I could be reminded to up my bid if need be. Well, as it turned out, it seems I hit the off week for others who wanted Watkins cookbooks, because I won both, one a 1936 edition and one a 1948 edition. Many of the recipes are the same, and in the 1948 edition, there was a note pencilled in saying that there was a one-dish recipe on page 167. I turned to see which recipe she could have been looking at, when I realized as I turned the pages, there was no page 167. She must have made the note for herself so she could remove the page for her files. That led me to wonder even more about the recipe, when my eye fell on page 166, and there, as plain as day was a recipe for Scotch eggs.

I had no need to convert metric measurements and scanned the list of ingredients. Not many of those, either.

Now, at this juncture, I should point out that I think of recipes more like guidelines or starting points. I rarely follow one exactly, and if it expresses the least whiff of a dire warning that all steps must be followed exactly, I usually don't bother with it.

This had none of that, other than to mention that Watkins pepper and paprika could be used as a seasoning along with plain old salt. Still, I wanted to follow the recipe closely since John hadn't magically teleported to my house to give me the ins and outs of what made a good Scotch egg great and to oversee my efforts.

I have a pig coming to my freezer next month, and my goal between now and then is to use up what's in there to ensure adequate room, and to use up the last cuts from the half a pig I got last year.

So, I made some substitutions. I used ground pork rather than sausage, I omitted the salt, pepper, and paprika because I forgot to add them and by the time I remembered, I had already wrapped the meat around the eggs. The recipe called for a pound of sausage and six hard boiled eggs. My package of ground pork was about 12 ounces or three-quarters of a pound, so I figured 4 eggs would be enough. The recipe called for boiling the eggs 30 minutes then cooling. I thought 30 minutes excessive and boiled them 10, removing them from the heat and then after 15 or 20 minutes transferring them to a bowl and into the fridge to cool. I don't like the grey-green ring that can form around hardboiled eggs when they're cooked too long, and wondered if I should have scooped them out of the warm water before I did.

The recipe also called for bread crumbs. I don't usually have those on hand, and the few times I need bread crumbs, I either crush some saltine crackers, omit the bread crumbs, or scramble to find something else. In this case, I used corn meal, figuring that I needed some sort of breading, and corn meal was sturdy, which would help keep everything together, or so I hoped.

I peeled the eggs carefully, smooshed the ground pork in my hands and carefully covered each egg. One egg kept poking through, but the rest worked out all right, and I dipped each over large meatball in the raw egg and dredged in corn meal.

The recipe called for frying in hot fat. While I do sauté any  number of things, I don't deep fry, and broke out a 4 qt (nearly 2L) pot with its lid and used about 2 tablespoons of bacon grease. I lowered the eggs carefully after patting a little more corn meal on each.

The troublesome egg did lose part of its pork sheath, and in the appetizing looks department I don't think i'd win any awards, but the troublesome egg did provide me with a visual of just how long it took the pork immediately touching the egg to cook, which was helpful since the recipe didn't. For those wanting to try this at home, I started out on high heat and after about 3 minutes, turned it back to medium heat (current cooker is an electric model). Everything seemed thoroughly cooked in 17 minutes, but for extra insurance, I didn't scoop them out until nearly 20 minutes had passed.

I ate the troublesome egg first. It was tasty even if there was a slight grey-green around the yolk, and the ground pork to egg ratio was a little less since part of its pork covering had fallen away. I was still hungry, having waited longer than usual to eat, so had a second one. I picked the most appetizing looking one of the bunch, and this was tasty, too, with a more favourable pork to egg ratio in every bite. I had mowed the lawn and cleaned out the gutters at the back of the house before lunch, and hockey is later this afternoon, so I should be sated until I get home about 7 pm. On a less physically active day, one Scotch egg would suffice.

The verdict? I like these, and shall try making them again. I can see where sausage would be tastier than plain ground pork, so next time around i'll either use sausage or remember to season the ground pork. I liked the taste the cornmeal added to the whole shebang, and am glad I did fry them rather than bake them, which I had considered doing.

I don't see myself making these often, but as a treat, when I want something filling for lunch, I can make a batch, and that can serve me for most of the work week for lunches. I've got one to heat up tomorrow so I can assess if it reheats well. I use a toaster oven for reheating and doubt i'll ever go back to using a microwave. Yes the latter is faster, but the former heats more evenly, and with something breaded, the breading doesn't get mushy.

I wish John were here to sample one to let me know if what I made is close to the mark. Just curious if it is. But whether it be or no, i'm not sorry I attempted to make them, so that is a success in my book.

Small town living

I grew up in a small town. It's not everyone's cup of tea because it can be hard to be anonymous there. I remember as kids if we decided to hitchhike (something we were forbidden to do), we'd put our thumbs down when we recognized the car, because we didn't want someone telling our parents we were hitchhiking. So yes, we'd pray for strangers to pick us up. Tick another thing I never told me parents because it would cause too much worry.

Indeed, even now, my hometown looks like something from a Norman Rockwell painting, and the first time Himself was there, we were driving down Main Street. I was doing the driving so he could look, and while it did my heart good to see the familiar street once again, Himself was agog as we passed the butcher's shop. One of the clerks was carrying a lady's groceries to her car. Himself remarked on it, and I turned to look.

"Oh, that's Don!" I cried, happy to see a familiar face, as it had been a long time since I'd visited my hometown.

"I feel as if we're in a live-action Norman Rockwell painting," said Himself, and I turned to look at him. I simply felt that spirit of community I always had in my hometown. And it made me keenly aware how that spirit was missing from where we were then living.

I currently live in a small town, and like my hometown, it too has a large summertime population. More tourists here than we had at home, and they mix with the summer people. Once the summer is over, and by summer's end, I mean Labor Day as opposed to the calendar's 23 September, there's a collective sigh of relief as the roads are suddenly not as clogged with out-of-state license plates crawling along gawking rather than driving up to speed.

The respite is but a breather before the "leaf peepers" as they are known come to view the gorgeous fall colour as the leaves change from their summer hue. Where I am now, peak season is late September or early October. In my hometown, it's mid-October. This week's Nor'easter has blown down many of the leaves, so late leaf peepers here will have precious little colour to see on the trees, but plenty on the roadways.

There are any number of merchants here who are open seasonally, and many have end-of-season sales. I've taken advantage of those sales to snap up Christmas or birthday gifts, and there's a more relaxed air walking into their shops. Some will say how their season went. Some lie about how their season went, but I think this year's season was a pretty good one for many.

One of the places that happens to have a seasonal sale is a local furniture store. They have nice items, reasonably priced, and also offer decorating services. They deliver for a fee, and I think it's free if you're within 10 miles. I'm outside that 10-mile circle, but have stopped in from time to time to see what they have. Earlier on, I found a lovely chair that I really liked that would be ideal in the bedroom. It was made for someone shorter, so yes, I can sit comfortably and have my feet touch the ground. I hemmed and hawed about getting it, decided that while I liked it very much, it was in the want rather than need category, so didn't get it.

Then I received their post card in the mail about their seasonal sale, and went looking. There was the chair. It was half off, and I had the money, so snapped it up. Since I have a truck, I could take it home myself and save the delivery fee, so we worked out when I could pick it up.

Once I got it home, I discovered, much to my dismay, that all my doorways are just a bit too small. It took some finagling, but I finally got it in the house. It's currently in the dining room, where it shall stay until I have the bedroom upstairs ready for it. Himself is still not able to help move it as he is still recovering from his shoulder surgery, and I do think I'll need someone to help me take it upstairs. It's not all that heavy but rather unwieldy for me to carry myself AND negotiate the steps, because I'm not in the most graceful set of God's creatures.

When I picked out the chair, several of the furniture store employees' faces fell. I apologized if they had their eye on the chair as well. "Oh, we can always order it for them if they want one," the woman who was writing out the slip said. They nodded forlornly, and I got the sense that they had hoped to get it at the discounted price, too, which probably now wouldn't happen.

Within a week of purchasing the chair, I got a lovely note from the furniture store, thanking me for my purchase, hoping I enjoy the blue chair very much, and they enclosed the decorator's card, in case I had any questions or needed help. Yes, some might be more cynical and say it was just a way to promote their business, but I was touched by the simple, hand-written note. I can't tell you the last time I got one from any business, and there've been any number of them where I spent more than I did on this chair.

Another Box Ticked on the Life List

Years before the movie, "The Bucket List," i had something i called a Life List, which were things i wanted to do before i left the planet. All sorts of things have appeared on that list over the years, and a surprising number have been realized. Not all are noteworthy, and some have been there for quite some time.

I've mentioned before how i am mechanically retarded, yet that never stopped me from listing that i wanted to build my own harpsichord and learn how to play it. This seemed farfetched even with my overactive imagination, but its closely related "learn to play piano," seemed a bit more realistic, much the way that my going to the moon is a greater probability than my going to Pluto (which i still consider a planet).

I'd forgotten about wanting to learn to play piano; it's been on the list even before i ever started writing things down on it, but one thing and another occurred, and i never lived in a space where i had access to a piano or even a keyboard all the time. I could pick out melodies and read G (treble) clef, but that was as far as it went.

I've also mentioned how i'm on facebook. I joined only after a fife and drum acquaintance encouraged a group of us on a email list to join, as it would be a great way to stay in touch during the off-season, and have since reconnected with some childhood friends and acquaintances. I've also joined some local bartering and selling sites and have found any number of things.

Earlier this summer, there was an ad in the paper for a concert where sea shanties and other folk music was going to be performed, and on a lark, i went. I had a lovely time, and Kat, the presenter had an open house at her gallery down the street from the venue after the concert. I went, and she invited me to stay afterwards as the musicians who performed, herself, and her husband were going to have a sing along, did i want to join? Yes, i did. I didn't have an instrument to play, having left my penny whistle at home (my fife wouldn't have tuned with any of the other instruments)so i sang along, sometimes harmonising sometimes not. Kat sat at the piano and played. She has a sweet singing voice, and watching her play the piano while she sang reminded me of that long ago item on the Life List. It was a cross between a pang and a yearning.

About a month later, i saw a number of ads for pianos. Some for free (you haul away), others for a nominal fee. After the fourth one, i decided i needed to pay attention to these ads, but the one that had called to me most was now three weeks old, and i felt funny about calling, sure that someone else had scooped up the piano.

While on facebook, i happened to click on one of the local bartering sites, and there was a listing for a piano in exchange for helping out at the church where the piano was. They were renovating, so plenty of ways to help out.

Before i could think twice, i sent a message saying i was interested. But, being mechanically retarded, i didn't feel comfortable helping with the renovations unless it was grunt work. Could i possibly give them some money instead so they could buy some nails or something to help with the construction?

This was a satisfactory substitute, and the woman said they really just wanted the piano to go to a good home. A parishonner's mother had died and left the church a baby grand piano, so they didn't need this upright one anymore.

I asked if the piano had wheels and its dimensions. Yes, it had wheels, and the dimensions were perfect. I could get it through the door. My friend, J, was going to help me move it. We could do it, because after all, it had wheels.

Of course, the day i went to get the piano, the skies looked threatening, so i was sure to have tarps on hand to cover the piano. I had borrowed my neighbour's trailer, and it had a ramp, so i envisioned that we could push it down the ramp onto 2×10 boards and lay them like railroad tracks to the door. Getting it up the slight incline then over the back steps through the house would be the toughest part, but i had a good bit of line, we could tie it round, and one could push while the other pulled.

When i got to the church there were quite a few folks working on the renovations, so a group of two men and two boys moved the piano onto the trailer quite easily. One was impressed by how i could back up the truck. Well, it was easy since we'd taken off the trailer and moved it to the spot and then i backed the truck up. One of the ladies there liked my truck and had a few questions about it. How much could it tow? 6300 lbs. What was the mileage like? about 20 mpg, a bit less in winter, but i'd gotten it to tow the boat, which it does beautifully. The mileage concern wasn't the driving force in my decision to get it. A few remarked on the tiedown system in the truck's bed. Yes, it's quite handy.

And so they bade me well, i gave them some money and thanked them, and away i drove. I called J when i got back, and we discussed the Plan to Unload. I won't bore you with all the details, i'll say simply that on paper it looked like a good idea but reality demonstrated something a bit different. It took an inordinate amount of time to get the piano halfway to its destination when J had had enough. I thanked her for her help, could see that she was really done in, and after she left, i moved it myself a bit more, but couldn't manage the incline by myself, and i'd never manage the up over the steps and through the back doorway. A couple sailing friends were free, and within 10 minutes of their arrival, the piano was in the house. I now understood very clearly why movers ask if one has a piano when one is moving households and why there's a premium.

After that, i went online to facebook and right away saw an ad for music lessons on one of the local pages. I called, left a message, and wanted to see if there were other places, perhaps one a little closer. There was. And before i could call them, the other called back. We talked a bit, and i could tell that this man would be a good teacher for me.

So, four days after the piano came into the house, i went for my first lesson. That was in early August.

I've been playing nearly every day since then. Sometimes only 15 minutes, but i go over the new material i need to work on, over the material i've already worked on, or both. The cats have decided the piano is all right. They both love the bench, Phoebe likes sitting on the top of the piano from time to time, and only once has each cat walked on the keys. Each looked surprised that they could make the noise.

In the first few weeks, each cat would sit when i played, as if to make sure i was practicing. Now, they sometimes sit with me, and sometimes ask me for food, or to be let in or out, much the way they do when i'm on the phone.

Bass clef is still a strange, new world for me, and in some places i've written the names of the notes to help me know where i need to be on the keyboard.

I'm still in the key of C major at this point and getting into the world of syncopation. Currently, i'm all thumbs; i know what it should sound like, but getting my fingers to coordinate is the struggle for this week. I've a feeling this will be a struggle for a little while yet, but i'm okay with that. I didn't have any illusions of being a prodigy, i just wanted to be able to play. And now i'm learning how.

Brains....I need brains....

When i saw this picture someone posted on facebook, I immediately thought of John Gray over at Going Gently. Hope you enjoy it, John. Maybe you can do the same with the Berlingo?

The Scottish Question

By this time tomorrow, we'll know how the vote turned out. I've been mulling over the Scottish Question and can see both the Yes and No sides. Since i live across the Pond, it's not my decision to make, but it has made me think of earlier times in my country's history as well as when the USSR broke apart. In the latter situation, which occurred in my lifetime, i got the sense that some people felt once they were free of Mother Russia, all would be well. I remarked to Himself at the time when some of them seemed surprise at the tumult after declaring freedom, "They're looking at us and asking why it's not all sorted, as it seems to be here. Don't they realise they're looking at us 200 years out? That when we were first free, we went though a big, giant mess until we could find our way? And, we nearly didn't." Some would say we're still in a big, giant mess, but that's a different discussion topic.

Although there are those who would paint the picture that nearly everyone on this side of the Pond wanted to be a free and independent state, that was not the case. There were many who were loyal to the Crown and a great many more who really just wanted to live their lives, work their land, raise their families. Deciding to end one system of rule and start another is no small task, and although the American Experiment ultimately succeeded despite great odds against it, it didn't come without cost. I think in our case it was a bit easier because there was a rather large body of water dividing us from the Mother Country, communication wasn't instantaneous, there were a list of grievances to which most would agree, and we had a lot of natural resources at hand. And yet, we still had the process of disentangling ourselves, establishing ourselves as our own nation, no more tyranny, etc. What i see, though, is that the apple didn't fall far from the tree. We became a super power and wanted to dictate things to the world at large. Leave our stamp everywhere we go. And, for better or worse, we have. Truly, we've done the Mother Country proud.

Our disentanglement easily took upwards of 50 years, and we were a British colony for only 150 years or so. Scotland's history intertwines with England's for many more centuries, and they're right next door to one another. They share currency, banks, businesses. Will Scotland keep a constitutional monarchy, and proclaim Elizabeth as Queen of Scots, or will they decide to separate completely, install a Scotsman or woman as their monarch? Will they dispense with monarchy altogether and become a republic? Will they join the EU? Will they keep the counties they've always had or make the counties more like provinces or states?

I know some of this has been already discussed, but i also see these points as needing to be reconsidered should the voters say yes. Once they have decided to pull away from the UK, they may feel differently about some of these things. Or that the earlier decision was made in a vacuum, which has since punctured.

And if the yes vote carries, what are the next steps? Who decides which traditions will be maintained or discarded? Passion runs high on both sides, and what plans have been made to reconcile, because no matter how the vote falls, these people will need to find a way to work together, either to establish new practices, policies, and procedures in a free state, or to improve on the system already in place.

Does one choose the unknown path or should one stick to the devil he knows? If the current situation is truly onerous and one sees little chance of change, then i can see where the unknown path would hold more appeal. I understand how it chafes when some place well away from where i live holds sway over what i may and may not do. I also understand the idea that should the vote go no, there'll be some sort of punitive backlash. Some of that may be unintentional but interpreted as malevolent and some may indeed be sinister. Power and cloudy perception can do funny things to otherwise intelligent people.

I don't envy Scotland their position. I do hope that however the vote goes, it's what's best, even if not everyone can see that's clearly the case.