Beavers, gnawing at me night and day
Never giving me no time
To heal myself won’t go away
Slow down, I’m not gonna disappear
Unless you chew through all the way
That would be my greatest fear

To make a “Muskoka snow cone” mix one handful of the Jelly Fungus fruiting bodies with two large handfuls of snow. Blend until uniformly orange. For an extra treat add two ounces of Sky brand vodka before blending.

This is a porcupine huddled into crevice in a large rock face right at the edge of my property. I decided not to charge it rent, and, when it sensed my close proximity and began to stir, to leave it alone, despite a strange feeling of curiosity about the experience of getting quilled.

Sun Falls.

Much rain -> high river -> falls turn into Rapids -> I want to try kayaking them but don’t because I really don’t want to capsize in one degree weather -> I start to wonder if I’m getting soft -> to compensate I go out to a bar and pick a fight with a guy in a Rush t-shirt -> I end up spending a a night in jail and have to attend re-education camp where they explain in excruciating detail the musical genius of Neal Peart.

Damn rain!

Sometimes, if I wander outside into the woods near my place in Muskoka, I can imagine that I’
m really back in the Pacific Northwest. Especially in the fall, on a cool wet day, when the moss on the ground is damp and the forest is filled with fungus of all kinds and the smell of rich earth.

There was a time when this field grew crops. Now it grows grass. Lots of grass that has to be mowed unless I want to grow dandelions and ragweed, which I don’t. If I had goats, they could eat the grass, and then I could eat the goats. If the coyotes don’t eat them first. Apparently the farming on this land wasn’t so great, with a thin layer of soil above rock, so the previous owners retired the farm implements and left them to rust in small clustered islands. Islands I have to work around as I navigate the sea of grass with my riding mower.