Archive | September 2017

A Visit to the Bar U Ranch – a National Historic Site.

I am sure ths kind of history would interest many today. Of course, the time scale does not compare with England, going back ovet 2,000 years for us. But still, history is history, and we are all a part of this world and how it came to be.
Evelyn

disappearinginplainsight

Bar U

I had the treat of spending a few hours over the past long-weekend visiting the Bar U Ranch which is not far from High River, Alberta. My daughter, Kristen, and I had a great time listening to the Parks Canada guides, wending our way through the 100-year-old buildings and simply enjoying a pleasant day of mid-20-degree temperatures under a gorgeous blue prairie sky.

Bar U Ranch Entrance

The Bar U Ranch highlights a work culture celebrated nowhere else in Canada – cattle ranching and the changing role of the cowboy over time. The seven decades of history represented at the Bar U follows the progression of ranching from the time of the open range, through the early days of fencing in the prairie and on into the age of mechanization.

George Lane fights off wolves

The above photo depicts George Lane, a bigger than life character, fighting off wolves while working on the Bar U – a ranch he…

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First September Blog

First September Blog.

September Solace.

The year has turned,
And summer is departing,
A strange August weather
Has kept us on our toes,
Drizzles for days,
And chill breezes blowing,
Winds hardly abating
Through summer’s bleak times.
A touch of sun.

That left us by lunchtime,
Leaving black clouds
Scudding ‘cross the sky.
But right at the end,
The orb has returned,
Bringing the sunshine,
Making the days warmer,
How long it lasts,
Whoever can tell.
Two or three days of
Blissful warmth.

Then comes showers,
And a chilly day.
Approaches autumn,
Days growing cooler,
Daylight is shorter,
Nights drawing in,
Mornings will darken,
Flowers disappear,
From the trees, leaves will fall.

More wind and rain
To beat doors and windows,
Mud on the ground,
Puddles galore.
Frost in places,
Ice in the ditches,
Rarely the sun is seen any more.

Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. September, 2017.

 

Did I miss out on August blogging? My apololgies.

Been a busy month. Not drawing, painting or writing. Just ordinary stuff that everyone gets at one time or another, not the same stuff but something that we cannot get out of.

 

So we plod along, not touching the things we want to achieve, because, there simply is not the time, occasionally not even the inclination.

I suppose my time of doing things I wanted came when I was a whole lot younger than I am today. I had, apart from work, time to indulge in all my hobbies which included, not only those listed above but going to the cinema.

This occurred quite often. There were several theatres around and occassionally there woukd be four good films on, all in one week. Fitting them all in could be quite a challenge.

Then there was going dancing, art classes and so much more. In my twenties, I went abroad for holidays, far away. This then led to horse riding. I also helped with gardening at home, and rarely, a bit of decorating with dad.

Not forgetting favourite t.v. programmes of the day.

Phew! I feel quite exhausted after all that. Just makes me wonder where all that energy went to? Because, sure as eggs are eggs, it has disappeared now!!!!!

Be very careful out in this changing world, dear friends.

Evelyn.

First September Blog

First September Blog.

September Solace.

The year has turned,
And summer is departing,
A strange August weather
Has kept us on our toes,
Drizzles for days,
And chill breezes blowing,
Winds hardly abating
Through summer’s bleak times.
A touch of sun.

That left us by lunchtime,
Leaving black clouds
Scudding ‘cross the sky.
But right at the end,
The orb has returned,
Bringing the sunshine,
Making the days warmer,
How long it lasts,
Whoever can tell.
Two or three days of
Blissful warmth.

Then comes showers,
And a chilly day.
Approaches autumn,
Days growing cooler,
Daylight is shorter,
Nights drawing in,
Mornings will darken,
Flowers disappear,
From the trees, leaves will fall.

More wind and rain
To beat doors and windows,
Mud on the ground,
Puddles galore.
Frost in places,
Ice in the ditches,
Rarely the sun is seen any more.

Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. September, 2017.

 

Did I miss out on August blogging? My apololgies.

Been a busy month. Not drawing, painting or writing. Just ordinary stuff that everyone gets at one time or another, not the same stuff but something that we cannot get out of.

 

So we plod along, not touching the things we want to achieve, because, there simply is not the time, occasionally not even the inclination.

I suppose my time of doing things I wanted came when I was a whole lot younger than I am today. I had, apart from work, time to indulge in all my hobbies which included, not only those listed above but going to the cinema.

This occurred quite often. There were several theatres around and occassionally there woukd be four good films on, all in one week. Fitting them all in could be quite a challenge.

Then there was going dancing, art classes and so much more. In my twenties, I went abroad for holidays, far away. This then led to horse riding. I also helped with gardening at home, and rarely, a bit of decorating with dad.

Not forgetting favourite t.v. programmes of the day.

Phew! I feel quite exhausted after all that. Just makes me wonder where all that energy went to? Because, sure as eggs are eggs, it has disappeared now!!!!!

Be very careful out in this changing world, dear friends.

Evelyn.

Field of dreams..?

Beautiful.
Evelyn

The Silent Eye

flowers (2)

Long, long ago, when the world was still young and I was younger still, I moved into a house with a garden. It wasn’t much of a garden, long-deserted, overgrown and gone to seed, but my mind painted it in rainbows. Since getting married, we had lived in a flat and a ‘street house’ that opened straight onto the pavement. My only forays into gardening had been herbs on the kitchen windowsill. It was the first time I’d had a garden of my very own, though there had usually been one at my parent’s home and my grandparents’ long-established gardens were places of magic and mystery.

flowers (14)

It is odd to think that although I remember every home I have lived in very well, as well as those of my grandparents,  I remember the gardens better. I have but the vaguest of memories of my father’s family home. We probably did…

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This entry was posted on September 3, 2017. 1 Comment