we all make mistakes

It appears that along with several other websites I was duped by the story I posted a few days ago about the millions of unsold cars clogging parking lots all over the world. Lindsay brought this to my attention in a comment he'd left earlier today linked to a Bloomberg article.

I can only blame myself since I should have been more suspicious after having looked at Vince Lewis's website (he who posted the article) where I found no references in any of his posts. Just because I found the link on a trustworthy site doesn't absolve my error.

Nevertheless, this doesn't mean all is well with industry and commerce in general. The story sounded right then, and in essence, still does. What is true is that the world is in a crisis of overproduction and the force of such exponential growth is very dangerous. No matter when those pictures were taken those fields of cars are a wake up call to those willing and able to listen.

ps: I couldn't resist this frog picture

new picture in the works so there'll be more soon.
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peak prosperity signs with Crow

Crow and I were looking through some of his old pictures yesterday evening when we came across this tinted daguerreotype from 1891. At one time Los Angeles had the longest streetcar routes in the world. Then came the freeways and more cars than you can shake a stick at. If you don't believe me you can always watch 'Roger Rabbit' again or check wikipedia.

Times have changed again but not quite for the better yet. This morning I found an article filled with amazing pictures of the millions of cars that are being manufactured and then hidden away from view in huge lots. It would appear that while China has ghost cities where nobody lives we in the west have ghost cars that nobody can drive. This is a monumental waste and a serious misallocation of energy. What it boils down to is that as true demand collapses relative to supply, financial instruments demand continual growth.

A Crow joke:

"Its quite a pickle we have gotten ourselves into."

"What do you mean by 'we' Lone Ranger?"

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a walk in the park - Point Pleasant, Halifax

This morning I found a comment from my old friend, Lindsay, that said he'd like to see more pictures of Point Pleasant Park here in Halifax. It turns out I do actually have some despite the fact I rarely carry the camera. They weren't all photographed on the same day, but all were taken during the months of May and June.

Even as it's possible you've seen most of the pictures before, if you'd like a quick look at our favorite local rambling spot again you'll find them here.

spring rocks Halifax park

One day a few weeks ago, shortly after the last snow melted, we came across a rock maze that had been carefully laid out on the grass of Point Pleasant Park. It was probably 30 feet across and twenty deep. While my husband walked along its convolutions to the centre where there was a little rock shrine, I watched and wished I'd brought my camera - not to take a photo of him, but to record the result of the anonymous artist's effort. The maze hadn't been there the day before and by the next day the park maintenance crew had bulldozed its stones back to the rocky beach. After all, it will soon be time to cut the grass and you can't send lawn mowers over loose rocks. As Jer stooped to leave the last of our peanuts on the shrine he discovered a tiny red plastic frog another maze walker had left.

More recently we found the results of yet another spontaneous installation made from the rocks on that shore - yes, it's a very rocky shore. Today I took my camera.

There's something wonderful about artwork made from the materials contained in natural surroundings that shows what's best in us. That days can go by with nobody knocking down these precariously balanced sculptures is one of the things I love most about Halifax.

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a closer look at 'morning frog'

Most of the pictures I've painted since I began blogging nearly eight years ago have been done for mutual entertainment or simply to illustrate a concept. As far as serious watercolors have been concerned I've become somewhat lax in my efforts. As it's difficult to show details of larger pieces on a small screen it's generally been a better bet to make simpler ones. A few days ago as I was reviewing some of the high resolution photographs I realized it might be interesting to show you some of the close-ups of paintings I've done that took far longer than two or three days to paint.

'Energy lives also in trees, flowers, and bushes. Sit near them. Let their aura merge with yours. When you inhale, feel the energy flow in. Do not be afraid to use it. Nature abounds in energy. You cannot deplete it. Only cutting, burning, and bulldozing can do that. Turn trees to paper, asphalt the fields, burn bushes, and you have wasted their energy. But draw that energy into you, make it part of your spirit, and you have added to the greater whole.'

~ conversation in Psychonavigation
by John Perkins, 1990



Happy Springtime
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Thanks to my friends Marja-Leena  and Linda for their continued inspiration in posting amazing photos and artwork of the natural world.

speculating with Crow

Crow, tired of the snow and rain in these parts this past month*, went off to visit his old Uncle Horus. There's no doubt modern society tends to suppress non-conforming ideas, imagination and adventure so I'm looking forward to his return and our ongoing conversations about perplexing, possibly strange, versions of history prior to Egypt's Old Kingdom.

We know Gobekli Tepe was built 12,000 years ago and was deliberately buried 2,000 years later.
Could the Sphinx date from 10,500BC?
Does the Piri Reis map prove there was an ancient seafaring culture?

Might even Atlantis have been real?

There are things we may never know but, while we don't have to believe everything we read, it's always good to keep an open mind. You never know what you might learn and there's always entertainment to be found:

Les Pyramides d'Égypte from Kheops Pyramides on Vimeo.


* Yes, it snowed again this evening. No accumulation, though.
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Buddha's tooth

Long ago in eastern Tibet there lived an elderly widow and her son who was a trader. They spent the long winters weaving and making things so that when spring came he'd have goods to trade in India. His mother, a devoted (and maybe a bit naive) Buddhist, asked her son to bring her a relic of the Buddha to place on her altar, preferably, a tooth. The trader was often busy and each time he came back from his travels, he forgot to look for a relic for his mother.

The next time he went off, his mother said: "If you don't bring back Buddha's tooth this time, I'm going to jump off a cliff and kill myself." So he said "Ok, don't worry, this time I will make sure to bring back Buddha's tooth for your altar."

Once again while he was off on his travels he forgot to look for the holy relic his mother had begged him to find until he was only a day away from home. Very nervous, remembering what his mother had said he looked around and found a dog's skeleton. He took a tooth from the skull, cleaned it and wrapped it in a piece of beautiful gold silk brocade.

The next day when he arrived at his village he presented the gift to his mother and said "This is Buddha's tooth. Please cherish it. Take care of it. Put it on your altar."

Soon after, the trader left on yet another trip and he intended to get a genuine relic to replace the dog tooth. However, as usual, he forgot until he was on his way home. When he arrived home, he saw crowds outside his house. When he went in, he saw many people prostrating to his mother's altar. On the altar was a tooth which was radiating light. He asked his mother where this relic came from, as it was undoubtedly a genuine relic. His mother told him it was the one he brought back for her.
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spring signs

Yesterday we saw flowers that looked just like these popping out of the ground all along the paths at our favorite park. While most people are posting pictures of crocus, daffodils, cherry blossoms etc., here in Halifax these mysterious things that look a bit like dandelions are the first wildflowers of spring. They may be catsear but I'm not sure. If you happen to know what they are please let me know. Eventually we'll see all the rest - usually over the course of two weeks just before summer hits.

Lately I've been back to bead weaving bracelets. Why, I don't know - perhaps because doing something that's both complex and mechanical is soothing while the rain falls. Now if I could just figure out a way to take consistently decent pictures of them I could show you more. Then again, maybe this is enough:

Meanwhile, I found myself reading some quotes fit for any season by George Carlin. I have, however, left out the rude ones:

Swimming is not a sport. Swimming is a way to keep from drowning. That’s just common sense!

If the Cincinnati Reds were really the first major league baseball team, who did they play?

Honesty may be the best policy, but it’s important to remember that apparently, by elimination, dishonesty is the second-best policy.

Ever notice that anyone going slower than you is an idiot, but anyone going faster is a maniac?

If it’s true that our species is alone in the universe, then I’d have to say that the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little.

The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, “You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but I’m just not close enough to get the job done.”

The reason I talk to myself is because I’m the only one whose answers I accept.

I put a dollar in a change machine. Nothing changed.

Here’s a bumper sticker I’d like to see: “We are the proud parents of a child who’s self-esteem is sufficient that he doesn’t need us promoting his minor scholastic achievements on the back of our car.”

I love and treasure individuals as I meet them; I loathe and despise the groups they identify with and belong to.

One great thing about getting old is that you can get out of all sorts of social obligations just by saying you’re too tired.

Nobody “owns” anything. When you die, it all stays here.

May the forces of evil become confused on the way to your house.

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medieval matters

The following snippets about the 1500s may or may not be true, but whether they are or not, I'm happy to be here and now rather than there and then:

Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May and still generally smelled decent by June. However, they were starting to smell a bit so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odour. That's where the custom came from.

When taking a bath the man of the house had first privilege of the big tub of hot, clean water. After him the other sons and menfolk bathed, followed by the women and finally the children - last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it. Hence the saying, "Don't throw the baby out with the bath water."

Did you ever wonder where the term 'raining cats and dogs' came from? It turns out small animals often slept in the straw of thatched roofs. When it rained it sometimes became slippery enough that they fell off.

The fact there was nothing to stop things from falling from the thatched roof into the rooms of the house posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could make a nasty mess on the bed. Then someone came up with the idea of making tall posts with a cloth hung over the top for some protection. Apparently, that's how canopy beds came into existence.

Most people had floors made from compressed dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt and looked down on others, who they said, were 'dirt poor'. The wealthy had slate floors but these would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on the floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they kept adding more thresh until opening the door would let it all start slipping outside. A piece of wood placed in the entranceway made a 'thresh hold'.

Sometimes poorer people could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man 'could bring home the bacon'. After cutting off a little to share with guests they would all sit around and 'chew the fat'.

Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or 'upper crust'.

Lead cups were used for ale or whisky - a chemical combination that would sometimes knock a person out for a long time. As often as not being taken for dead they were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days where the family gathered around to eat and drink while waiting to see if they would wake up. This lead to the custom of holding a 'wake'.

England being old and small, places to bury people often ran short. After a certain time had passed coffins were dug up and the bones were taken to a 'bone house' for storage in order that the grave could be reused. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 of them were found to have scratch marks on the inside indicating they had been burying people alive. In order to prevent future incidents they thought to tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the 'graveyard shift') to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be 'saved by the bell'.

and now for something not so completely different - but still relevant:



♡ :)

the tinker's horse

My dad was a great storyteller and this is one of his I remember from long ago. Just to give you some background, at the age when most of us were dreading our first day at high school my dad went to work in one of the coal mines of northern England. He would certainly have preferred to stay in school but, as the eldest boy once his father had died, the mines were the only place to earn money enough to feed his mother, sisters and brother.

Anyway, this story is about a man and his pony who lived in the village just before the turn of the 19th century - so likely a story my father had heard rather than one he witnessed. The man was a tinker who spent his days going round the local villages fixing things that were broken as well as buying and selling whatever came to hand. There's nothing odd in that but what was strange was that so long as the tinker himself was sitting on the cart bench his horse went to whatever village he knew to be next. The tinker never used reins. If he decided to go to a different village he simply told the horse which one and off they'd go.

In those days the miners worked six and a half days a week with just the morning off on Sunday so they could attend church. Not surprisingly, they gathered at the local pub on Saturday nights to relax and enjoy themselves. (I'm guessing not all made it to the services next morning.) Normally his horse was well cared for except for those Saturday nights the tinker spent in the pub while his horse waited patiently outside. What invariably used to happen was that the tinker would get very drunk, so much so that all he could do at the end of the evening was to climb onto his cart where he'd fall asleep. The horse could be relied upon to take him home.

Late one night when the pub had closed some of his co-revellers followed behind the horse and cart that was carrying the drunken tinker. The horse stopped in front of the dark house (the tinker lived alone). The men had decided to play a trick on the tinker. They lifted him off the cart and put him down in a comfortable spot, then they unhitched the horse. After that they took the wheels off the cart, lead the horse into the house, carried the unwheeled cart inside, put the wheels back on, hitched up the horse to the cart and, lastly, carried the unconscious tinker inside and put him back on the bench.

Next morning when he awoke they all just happened to be waiting not far from the tinker's door. He came outside rubbing his eyes and said, 'Ah elwis knew pit wes a clivvor cuddy but ah nivvor knew ha bloody clivvor til neeo.'
(I always knew he was a clever horse but I never knew how bloody clever until now.) 
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