Justfolk's photos

It briefly got as high as eleven degrees (uhh, about 53 F) today. The sun, out for a little while, made that temperature seem higher. And the flies knew it. This one was crawling around outside the kitchen-door window. He seemed to be as large as houseflies get. I didn't dare open the door for fear of seeming to invite him in.

I was halfway through chopping some leeks to add to the chickpea mix I was making.

This was last night when the moon was 96% illuminated. It's *really* full early tomorrow morning. But you can howl whenever you like.

The goldfinches are in full spring regalia now on our clothesline. the weather is not much to speak of but their spring voices are loud.

Sixty or seventy years ago this was built as a one-storey supermarket. Now it has been rebuilt as a condominium apartment building. Fuji 200 film in Rollei 35TE

I've known Jack and Colleen 45 and 55 years respectively. Maybe longer. A month ago, we had arranged to meet at a restaurant at the bottom of this hill. We and they arrived at the same time: I had just parked the car when they came strolling down the hill. I had my little Rollei 35TE in hand and loaded with some Fuji 200 film. So I took their picture.

Today's turnbuckle portrait.

It reminded me of the sky, so I had to take its picture.

Not far from this spot there used to be an old and well-used bridge that cars could cross. When that space was taken for industrial purposes by the City, the local residents convinced the City to build this sturdy but small footbridge. Despite appearances, it is a lovely quiet spot that many residents walk through every day. I like the view (from the left side) of the dry-dock where, right now, three ships are out of the water being repaired or rebuilt.

We were out walking and found ourselves on the footbridge (named for local author Helen Porter who died a year or so ago) from which the best views of the dry-dock can be had. There were three substantial ships up on the dock. Before we left we did a selfie.

The temperature today officially got up to six degrees though in the sun it sometimes felt like fifteen. And in a short walk around the neighbourhood we saw three different Milbert's tortoiseshell butterflies. This one must have been thirsty after his winter lie-in; he kept landing near water and then, here, on a snow bank.

This is one of three ruffed grouse that were meandering yesterday morning around our yard. It is the first time I have seen a ruffed grouse in our yard, so I added it to my list of birds seen there. It is Number 32. Grouse were introduced here in Newfoundland sixty or seventy years. So they never had much time to develop a widespread local name. But yesterday, after I took this picture, I found out they are sometimes called French hens. Just why, I don't know. I also heard that their cousin, the spruce grouse, is called the Fool's hen. I don't know why about that either.

The view out our bathroom window is not usually as interesting as this. The noisy mob of goldfinches that has this warbler as their fellow came a-marauding this afternoon. They settled for five minutes in the maple tree outside the bathroom window. It did not last long before they left for other parts of the valley. They were eating buds, or perhaps just sucking up sweet exudations from the maple. This guy's orange crown is becoming more apparent as he moves around, as are his yellow and green bits.

Early this morning, I was leaving a parking lot. This was the view by the car's rear camera.

This fellow, a lone Orange-crowned warbler, has spent the entire winter and fall in the valley I live in in Newfoundland. And he looks none the worse for being here instead of, say, Costa Rica where most of his relatives spent the same time. Hereabouts, he hangs out with and travels with a roving band of raucous goldfinches. So when I hear them in the backyard, I get up from my reading, grab the camera and look for this one. And this morning he sat in the falling April snow for his turnbuckle portrait. ("Is this my best side? How about this side? Are my yellow streaks showing much yet?”)

It's spring and the goldiboyos are puttin' on their spiff.

I had a teacher in Grade Eight (that's nearly sixty years ago) who was the object of great mimicry by her charges. She was old and -- to us -- odd, so she was easy to make fun of, at least by us thirteen-year-olds. I suspect that nowadays, if I knew her, I'd like her. But back then we just found ways to make jokes about her. Sigh. She had old ways of speaking, for one thing. For instance, when she assigned us work to do in class, she would pace around the classroom exclaiming from time to time, "Be looking down!" The joke among the barely pubescent pupils was that she was adjusting her underwear and didn't want to be seen. In any case, in the ensuing decades I have found myself looking down a lot. And so, today, while crossing a busy intersection, I spied this tiny house at the foot of one of the street signs. I've no idea how it got there.

For nearly two years we have been slowly drinking the wine given to us by a friend who had a substantial cellar but who, in her ninth decade, had decided to quit drinking. This was the bottle opened tonight, an Italian wine from 23 years ago. The cork was damaged but the wine was perfect. I had just put a leg of lamb in the oven.