how now brownpau
Walking by this brook on the Forest Hills Greenway again:
Compare with how it looked in winter a couple months back.
As of last year there was a proposal before the municipal council to name this waterway “Bissett Brook” — which seems to be what they’re calling it now.
View from a little footbridge on the Jersey Jack Trail in Cole Harbour Heritage Park. This brook is simply called “The Run.”
Shots from a cold but sunny walk around MacCormacks Beach, Eastern Passage, NS.
Amy got this little Venus flytrap at Audrey’s Little Shop of Plants in Dartmouth and it flowered:
Turns out the flowers need really long stems so that the plant doesn’t catch and eat its own pollinators, and also flowering exhausts the plant so it’s best to cut the flower stem and use it for propagation.
Procrastinated on getting a haircut for a couple years, but with hair flowing over my shoulders and down my back and as far down as my elbows and generally being a tangled mess I figured I’d probably better get the standard buzz I usually get. Still fighting the reflexive urge to tie back a ponytail days later.
Buzz and fade courtesy Tom at Chinwag’s Barber Shop. The shorn locks are now in a baggie with the Trailer Park Boys costumes and production designer Nicole, who may use it in a wig or as a prop.
Thus cementing my legacy with the show in hair forever. Or something.
Here’s Amelia sprawled on the bed in a sunbeam putting a paw over her face:
Health app screenshot from 5 months after covid infection shows reduction in activity — partially deliberate because exertion immediately after an infection can lead to a greater chance of developing long covid, but also just that stairs were extremely tiring to me for a couple months after I recovered.
Been throwing out peanuts out for the local crows; a few times some have gotten bold enough to land on the railing with me still standing there. I’ve had as many as eight in one morning, but sadly so far they have not reciprocated with shiny gifts as I’ve heard crows sometimes do.
Ezra and I built a little snow alien at Baker Drive Community Park in Dartmouth. This one’s kind of a grey.
Walking down to the tire shop along the Forest Hills Greenway — not so green in winter with all the snow, couple inches crunching underfoot.
A fork in the path. I think of “miles to go before I sleep” and “the road less traveled” and realize those are from two different Frost poems.
An idyllic brook winds through the woods. You’d barely know it was fed by runoff from a residential drainage culvert.
Bridges, bridges.
