Springshine

It may not technically be spring here yet, but we are getting days of what I like to think of as Springshine.  A little bit of sun and a few hints of summer showing up equals springshine.  It cancels out the cloudy days.  The rainfall has been pretty major in February, but it is at least waiting until after dark before unleashing the torrents of rain, allowing both us and the flowers to turn our faces to the slowly warming sun in the daytime.

It is not yet hot, in fact it is not yet even always warm.  This makes the ocean blues just a little bit darker than in summer photographs.

The "Winter Blue" shade of the ocean in February

I know a few friends are in much colder places as I type this and are probably screaming at their screen to move the camera to the right so they can see more beach and less foliage.  I kinda like the effect of the foliage, but in anticipation of your request, here is a beach only shot of Warwick Long Bay.

"Beach porn" as Margaret calls my photos

On this particular day (it was actually the same day that started in the Botanical gardens many posts ago), I decided to scoot about the island like we all used to do when we arrived.  Just drive and pull over when something catches your eye.  It had been a few months since I had driven up to Southampton.  It's only 10 km away, but it feels like a lot more when you are used to short 2 and 3 minute drives to get everywhere you need to get in your daily life.  I will miss the smallness of Bermuda when I go.  As I was driving, er scooting, down the road I wondered what would there be to photograph that I had not already photographed many times.  As if to refute the thought in my mind that nothing changes, I was treated to the views of several things in the process of change.  The first thing I noticed was the Gibbs Hill Lighthouse, the subject of much local banter last summer for looking rusty and worn down, has somehow quietly begun the process of a makeover.

The Gibbs Hill Lighthouse surrounded by scaffolding.

The next thing I noticed is that an old hotel sight which has been abandoned since before I arrived on the island appears to be starting construction.  I am not sure what hotel used to stand here, I suspect it may have been a Sonesta hotel.  I am also not sure if it is being developed by the nearby Fairmont hotel, the even closer Reef's hotel, or a new entity, but I think it will be one of the most desired vacation spots due to its location.

I think I see a future awesome ocean side outdoor tanning and bar location

I had to drive up the hill to take a closer look at the Lighthouse, as it isn't every day that you bear witness to such sudden and undisputed change happening on the island.

|I do believe a new paint job o get rid of the visible rust is underway

After that, I carried on a little further down the road to Church Bay.  The days are often windy in Bermuda winter, as the trees in this picture show even though it is a springshine type of day.

It almost seems like the colder weather gives the shrubbery a little more "texture" than in summer

Church Bay is a smaller beach, but has good snorkeling and normally very pink sand.  On this day however, it was covered in a mass of seaweed, that could be seen washing in to the shore on the waves.  The seaweed has a distinct red tinge to it.  I have virtually no botany skills as you well know by now, so whether this is truly red algae or just reddish algae that is actually under the brown algae family, I don't know.  But if it is red, I find it interesting because red algae tends to come from the colder deeper waters, which might explain its presence on this February day.  For all my Microbiology nerd friends, red algae is also the stuff we use to make agar base, although perhaps I shouldn't admit that or my current job description will entail collecting weeds to save a buck on supplies.  For the rest of you, red algae is also used for chocolate milk and puddings.  Everyone has reason to love red algae.

Church Bay showing some unusual spring colours

While it made a very pretty picture, the algae tends to attract swarms of bugs and lets of a pretty pungent odour as it dried out in the sun (and not a good odour), so fortunately it is not present later in the summer.

The ocean shows the tinges of red beneath its surface

A nice new view on a familiar scene

The last treat I enjoyed on my stop at Church Bay was to meet up with another kindred spirit who also wanted to bask in the springshine.  Normally these little chameleons dart away from people very quickly, but this guy was content to pose and share the warm rays of light with me.  I like to think we shared a moment, but he was probably just happy not to be eaten, squished, or maimed.  We take way too much for granted as humans.

All of us in Bermuda are happy to see the sun shining again

Cupid Hates Me

Having worked my shift til midnight and rung in Valentine's day with my cats and computer, typing away the Valentine's blog through the thunder, lightning, and torrential rain pounding against the house, I felt pretty good about Valentine's Day.  I had the right perspective, I knew it was going to be a good day, and that being single doesn't mean Valentine's Day is going to knock a girl down on her butt.

I woke up around 8:30, and blindly stumbled down the stairs without contacts or glasses as I do in order to get downstairs and put out cat food and press the on button on the coffee machine.  As I rounded the corner on the tile at the bottom of the stair case it happened.  Whhhhumpf!  I was down on the floor.  One minute into the day Valentine's had literally taken knocked me on my ass.  How ironic.  Apparently the downpour of the night overwhelmed a few systems on the island, and the application of extra pressure on some sort of gravity flow dependent pipe thing in the bathroom created a pinprick hole in said pipe which had been rapidly spraying a steady stream of water for long enough to flood the bathroom and part of the kitchen.  I try to keep the blog clean...I intended to be positive, but..."Screw you Valentine's Day," were the first words out of my mouth on Valentine's as I slowly picked my now sopping wet self up of the floor.  Once I found the landlord to turn off the water to the house, rendering a shower or food prep out of the question for the day, and used up every towel in the house (guaranteeing a Friday night of action packed laundry), and mopped furiously for a while, it was time to go to work.

I did intend to stick to the plan of avoiding the flower filled clerical area when I got to there, but that was quickly rendered pointless when I entered the quiet back entrance of my work area and turned the corner towards the locker and ran into my coworker head on, unwrapping a large gold heart shaped box filled with chocolates (that she was happy to share).  And right behind her, in it's 7 foot glory blocking the entry to my locker was....this.  It was a giant Valentine's monstrosity.

I couldn't get it in all one photo due to the height...this was the top of the display...trailing 6 feet down in ribbons to....

The base of the display.  Chocolates, teddy bears, multiple balloons,

"Is it yours?" someone asked as they went by.  I didn't even have to look.  "Nope!"  It belonged to my other obviously beloved coworker.  The good news was that it was clearly one of those days when the universe is set to mock me, so I settled in to enjoy the ride and participate in the laughter.  Self deprecating humour is part of the Canadian identity after all.  And when I was tired of laughing at myself, I mocked my coworker Lee who has an equally twisted sense of humour.  Minus the inevitable radio play of "All by myself....." we were treated to loads of good classic rock love songs...Angel by Aerosmith, Every Rose Has It's Thorn by Poison (not all love songs have to be happy), REO Speedwagon, and, of course, Journey.

Well, there is always next year I suppose :)

Happy Valentine's Day

Valentine's day.  The options are few...love it, hate it, or maintain ambivalence.  I am sure blogs across the globe are lighting up with witty, moving, or hilariously sarcastic posts filled with pro or anti Valentine's day propaganda.  Suddenly, I feel a lot of pressure!

Hallmark has definitely scored a victory, but they cannot be credited or blamed all on their own.  There are the calendar makers, and schoolteachers who made you make little boxes for others to deposit their Valentine's into. The emotions surrounding Valentine's Day start in grade school, or even Kindergarten.  Did I get a Valentine from the cute boy?  Wait, which one is he?  We are all like 3 feet tall with little round faces, it's kind of hard to tell.  All of the adult angst trickles down into our world...will Snoopy do the happy dance and hug the Valentine to his heart if he gets one from the little Red Haired Girl?  What about Linus and Lucy?  Even Garfield wasn't above Valentine's Day...and he only liked Pooky, lasagna, and coffee...and maybe Odie a little bit.  Remember when everybody in Bambi gets twitterpated?

But long long before those days, Valentine's meant other things.  The first origins are traced back to roman pagan times, when the ides of February (the 15th) were celebrated with a fertility ritual involving a poor sacrificed goat and it's fresh hide being used to whack both women and the earth to grant them fertility.  Does anyone ever notice that it's the men involved in all these bizarre tales, yet always the women later blamed as witches, sorceresses, or just hags?  Just saying.  It's a good thing I was born in this time...if someone EVER hit me with a freshly killed goat bit, hags and witchery would be the least of their worries.  Anyway, this "celebration" of Faunas (roman god of agriculture), Romulus and Remus (founders of all that is Roman) was called Lupercalia (oh yeah, they sacrificed a dog as well as the name suggests), and somehow managed to survive up until about 500 AD.  They had figured out to make metal horseshoes, but couldn't yet correlate that smacking women with goat hides would not increase birthrates...I rather suspect they actually went down at this time.  Anyway, when Christianity began to be adopted, and saints began to be martyred, another legend of Valentine's takes place.  An Emperor in need of a bigger army outlawed marriage in the 3rd century (Claudius II for you history buffs).  Valentine disagreed and continued to perform marriages, and was eventually arrested and executed.  Legend has it that he fell in love with his jailer's daughter, and signed love notes to her, "your Valentine."  Until his death of course, which made the story more memorable.

When paganism began to be squashed, St. Valentine's Day was offered to the masses in lieu of the festival of Lupercalia...as religion often did when transitioning people from pagan holidays to Christian holidays.  The party stays about the same time, the practice and ideas change slightly at first, until the old ways are forgotten.  About a thousand years later, the English and the French were really into their bird watching, and botany amongst other things, and they declared February the 14th the beginning of bird mating season.  And so the association of romance and Valentine's Day was further solidified by the gentry of the time.

For those of you planning on a day of romance, there is your excuse.  Nature commands you to feel twitterpated, like Bambi and the birds.  You should embrace it and do something special for your loved one.  If you are really smooth you will do yoga with your girlfriend (true story).  Let there be flowers and chocolates and sweet words on glittering cards.  This is your day to let your little marshmallow heart shine.

Then of course there are the singles.  There are the ambivalent singles...and then there are the angry singles. Let them rant.  If you thought it was bad not having a full Valentine's box on your desk in grade school, imagine being the girl in the office who the flower delivery guy doesn't come for...the one he keeps avoiding eye contact with as the room fills up with perky floral arrangements, giant teddy bears, and bright balloons.  If you are one of the people who feels a little blue about being alone on a day when togetherness literally is front page news, and that prompts you to denounce the holiday, well there is a little history you can add to your arsenal as well.  Valentine's Day is also historically known for a number of violent murders.  There was of course the St. Valentine's Day massacre of 1929 when Al Capone's gang executed 7 of Bugs Moran's gang.  A much bigger historical tragedy took place in Strasbourg in 1349.  On February 14 of that year, 900 Jewish people were burned alive in the city as a preventative measure as Europe succumbed to terror and finger pointing while the plague gripped the continent.  The masses blamed a minority with false accusations of poisoning wells and causing the plague.  With this in mind, you should take a moment to hug a nearby microbiologist (me), because if anyone comes up with a dumb idea like this again we can slap them and set the record straight.

Through the course of writing this blog, I have decided that I am quasi-ambivalent to Valentine's Day.  I did not make a Valentine's box, and I will probably consciously avoid the reception area and that awkward moment where the flower delivery guy shows up with not enough flowers for everybody.  Facebook is filled with cartoons and pictures, but the one that I loved most was by Grumpy Cat.

Good point!

It made me laugh and remember that it is all about perspective.  It is just another day.  You can love it, you can hate it, it is all in the way that you look at it.  For me, there may not be a tale of romance to type out in honor of the day.  But there is a little Snoopy bag waiting to be opened that my friend Siobhan packaged up weeks ago before her holiday with instructions that it was not to be opened until Valentine's Day.  I got sent imaginary bubble hearts and flowers by a friend via email to distribute among the Bermuda crew, although I was told I could make my imaginary flower bouquet the biggest one.  I am also reminded of a little red stuffed penguin named Hope from a friend one year, as well as the years where I met up with one of the girls or a few for lunches...and of course, the year I received flowers and chocolates from Tonya's husband at work -- she did get the bigger set, but he made sure her work buddy didn't get forgotten on Valentine's Day either.  Yup, he's a good one (he even knows how to shop in her sizes), so for Mark and all the other sweet guys out there that are spoiling their wives and girlfriends rotten, I think I can become  pro-Valentine's Day as a show of support.

Perspective was the theme that kept running through my head all week, especially while taking photos.  Too often we are guilty of not being in the moment, of looking but not seeing.  I had several opportunities this week to go slower, to look closer at some things, both the physical and the metaphorical.  I enjoyed the view.  So, Grumpy cat is right.  No one loves you any more because it's Valentine's...nor are you loved any less than usual.  So celebrate, be ambivalent, but please don't be angry or hit anyone with a goat.  Here are some flowers in case you need them.  Happy Valentine's Day everyone!

Life, like photography,is all about perception....

...and much better up close and personal

A Walk Through The Botanical Gardens in February

The Botanical Gardens are located adjacent to the hospital and South Shore Road drives right along its edge.  The Botanical Gardens opened to the public in 1898 and encompass 36 acres of trees, shrubs, plants, flowers, and fauna...including the ducks photographed for the last 2 blogs.  Not just a pretty flower garden, the Botanical Gardens are a very large open park, with surprisingly few people.  A good spot to commune with nature.

Just a peak and a hint at what the Botanical gardens holds

I have taken photos in the gardens in the spring and summer, but never before in February, so Saturday was the day to follow through and see what might be in bloom now that was not in the summer.  Mostly there was a lot less in bloom, as one would expect, but I did come across a few flowers that I had not noticed last summer.

I don't know what it is but it reminds me of leopard print so I call it "Cougar Plant."

Strangely, Cougar Plant looks like it develops into this...I traced it back to same vine

Ironically the very first flower I saw was glistening with dewdrops.  It's ironic because the very first time I took the camera to the Botanical Gardens it was my new toy, a hot summer day, and my sushi and photography partner in crime Phil was there, with a giant lens and lots of tips and tricks, including a little spray bottle to capture drops of water on the flowers.  My photos were terrible.  But today, my first trip out with the camera since Phil left the island, and here they were!

Just waiting to be photographed naturally

Liked how the water collecting on the upper surfaces shows through the bottom of the petals

The Gardens are really quite interesting.  There are many trees, shrubs, and influences from other countries, and in a manner very different from the flower beds I am used to seeing in North American parks, a lot of the flowers are very tiny, while a lot of the trees are very big.  It's an interesting dichotomy.  As well, many of he flowers are on trees and shrubs as opposed to being low lying flowering plants.  Sometimes the petals are tough and waxy, as on these little flowers below.

Sturdier than they are delicate, but just as pretty

And sometimes the flowers look so intricate and bizarre that they could inspire stories and characters.

This flower reminds me of a sci-fi movie where little alien hands would be reaching out and moving.

The main flower I came to photograph today was sparse in number, but I did find a good one.  It grows on the trellis at the sensory garden.  The sensory garden is a really cool concept.  The signs are in Braille and the plants were selected for having distinctive scents, a garden designed for the blind. There is a comfortable bench and a quiet pool of water below a statue that hosts lily pads...and of course, toads!  My toad pictures aren't as good as Dev's, but they are the best ones I have so far.  There were two of them hanging out in their, avoiding the prodding of a bunch of kids with sticks.  Fortunately for the toads, kids avoid adults (and I didn't even need to prod them with sticks), and soon it was just me and the toads.  In advance of Valentine's Day, I could joke that that statement also describes any potential dating situation here on the rock.  I wonder if either of these little fellas are free tomorrow.

Toads of the Sensory Garden

I think he is making eye contact....

On that note, I am due to start work soon so will leave you with a photo of the funky little flower that I turned off the road to find in the first place.  If you are under cloudy or snowy skies, I hope they make you smile today.

Cool huh?  Again, I don't know names, so will call this one "The Purple Ned" after my friend who calls herself the purple goddess.  UPDATE...I have been notified by Pam, Jody, and Phil that this is the passion flower, Genus Passiflora.

Men Who Won't Wash Ducks

I wondered yesterday, when I posted about the duck washing, if I could get away with only telling part of the story.  The answer is no.  I have been called out on social media, and pushed to recount the tale that has become that standard against which all men in the field of dating shall forever be measured amongst my friends...are they a man who will...or will not...wash ducks?

If you have known me for less than 10 years, you don't yet know what we are talking about.  So let me bring you up to speed.  The year is 2005.  It is summer.  Under the warm blue skies of long daylight hours in Alberta, I am the happiest girl in the world.  I love my life.  I am content.  My family is healthy and well.  My job is meaningful and inspired.  I just bought my first home.  And on the weekends I jump from airplanes and learn to fly...over and over, faster and better each time.  I have no boyfriend, and no time or desire to find one.  I am savouring what remains of "my last good year."

My last good year?  Ah yes, well, ever have one of those moments where you put your foot in your mouth in front of people destined to be life long friends and therefore say something that is not going to be forgotten as long as any of you shall live?  Well, that had happened the previous year, when I was remiss to be turning 28, and shopping for clothes to wear on my first ever cruise with 2 wonderful friends from work...who were notably already 30 and up.  Shy and cautious on my picks, they kept throwing boobalicious, form fitting clothes, and bikinis into my changing room that I can only wish I could wear now.  Emerging cautiously, I finally settled on a pair of boarder shorts and a bikini top as a compromise to my usual tom-boy style and made the mistake of saying "what the hell, I suppose I should own a bikini once in my life, after all I only have two good years left."  I can only describe the scene by referencing the movie "The Exorcist,"  where in very slow time heads turned a few degrees beyond normal expectation before any words were spoken.  Friendship is a constant labour of love.  They forgave me in seconds...but in a decade they have never forgotten...every birthday is a different spin on the commentary to where I stand now with respect to "the good years."

Well, just a year and a half later, as I was preparing to say goodbye to my 20's with some trepidation and a lot of reminders that this was the final days of my "good years", another group of friends with only my best interests at heart got it in their head to play matchmaker.  My friend's husband's friend who worked in petrochemical science had been picked as the pawn in this game, presumably intelligent, notably attractive, and sporty.  When approached with the idea of blind date I said "NOOOOOOO!'  Simply not interested no matter what.  The second attempt was a stealthy ploy to invite us both to a dinner party.  And to be fair...he was attractive.  He was nice.  He was sporty.  He hopped up to walk me to my car and asked if he could have my number.  He didn't mind when my only free night was Wednesday.  We had several nice Wednesday dates in a row....dinner, maybe a movie.  However, to have a Friday date would require me missing one or two skydives after work, and the Friday night bonfire on the dropzone.  It wasn't a concession I was willing to make for many weeks.  Finally, I decided I was being selfish and unfair, and said I would go out with him on a Friday.  He WAS impressed, for he understood how I was drawn to my weekend world.  He said that we could do ANYTHING I wanted to do, whatever date I could imagine, and I think we both thought it was pretty cool.  However, on the Thursday night the train crashed into Lake Wabumum, messing up ducks and grebes and muskrats and all sorts of things.

When he called Friday after work and asked what I had chosen as the thing I most wanted to do, I said "I want to wash ducks."  He said..."What?"  "I want to wash ducks," I repeated.  He said "You want to wash dogs?"  "No!"  I said.  'Ducks."  There was a pause and he said "You want me to take you to watch ducks?"  Exasperated I explained the train wreck, the environmental impact, and my desire to help, and that what I wanted to do most of all was to spend the night washing oily ducks and I wanted him to help me.  His response was "No."  "NO?"  I said, my brows furrowing as I spoke into the phone.  "No," he repeated.  "I work with oil for a living.  I am not going to get my hands dirty and soak myself in toxins on my night off for a bunch of ducks."

Look at how cute they are...how could you not held a duck in need?

I would like to tell you all that at that point I reached into the phone, dragged him through it, and beat him senseless for being selfish and uncaring.  But at 29.9 years old I still didn't trust my instincts and told myself to give him the benefit of the doubt.  However, at 29.9 years old I was also aware that I generally don't have the ability to hide what I am thinking very well.  I tried to contain it, I did.  I asked..."well, if whatever I want to do doesn't suit you, what is it that you would like to do?"  "I don't know," he said with a tinge of attitude "I was thinking maybe dinner and a movie."  Well if that isn't the most boring and ordinary thing in the world, I thought but did not say.  I told myself that I promised him a Friday night, I would make the best of it.  I would really try.

He picked me up for the dinner and the movie...in a pickup truck because it's Alberta of course.  I got in truck.  He drove one block to the end of the street, took a left for another block to the stop sign, and I could no longer help myself...in less than 2 blocks I stared him down and said "I can't BELIEVE you won't wash ducks.  They are helpless and injured and we are in a position to do something and you want to go for dinner."  In a rather desperate but one minute too late attempt to change the course of events he pointed to the horizon where a hot air balloon floated by and said "look at that, don't you think it would be amazing to ride in one of those someday?"  "Pfftt, I've jumped out of those" I said...and I had.  I skydive.  We do stuff like that, it's not a big deal.  He hit the brakes, turned to look at me and said "You know what, you're just WEIRD!  That's what you are, weird."  "Great, can you take me home so I can get to the ducks now?"  I am not sure that the vehicle actually came to a complete stop before I got out, and my last sight of that guy was tail lights in the dark.  More importantly, I got to my ducks, and his job eventually transferred him to Siberia (that, my friends, is a little thing called karma).

Once my ducks were cleaned, and in a row if you will, this story became somewhat of a legend.  As I relayed it to friends and acquaintances with total indignity..."What kind of a man won't wash ducks????" I asked anyone who asked.  The odd sweet and brave soul immediately pledged to wash any duck I thought looked grubby, but, I was in no mood to entertain suitors.  My best of friends were equally horrified.  I am not sure if I am meant to name names, so I will keep it anonymous but those who were there will recall that one of my friends' significant other came home from a long day of manual labour to find her sitting cross armed and cross legged on the couch with a furrowed brow and brooding look on her face.  "What is is?" he asked?  She slowly eyed him up, and with absolutely no explanation asked him "Would you wash ducks for me?"  Smartly, he grabbed his jacket and said "I don't know what's happening but yes.  Where are these ducks?"   To quote an email I received after the blog post yesterday referencing the ducks, "It became a measuring stick for all men."  Would he, or would he not wash ducks alongside you if you chose to.

I have seen this line used for over a decade now.  It has become one of my favorites.  Ladies, you know how you are out with the girls and some guy comes over and starts chatting, and you don't want to be rude but you just aren't interested for whatever reason?  Want to lose him quick?  Look him in the eye and say "would you wash ducks for me?"  98% of the time he assumes you are mentally imbalanced and flees the scene, and that will alleviate your problem and get girls night on track again.  Got a friend who is with the wrong guy and struggling to figure it out?  Ask her if she thinks he'd wash ducks for her.  Since this doesn't happen every day one is forced to answer without excuses...saves people time once in a while.  And if you are thinking about keeping him throughout whatever life throws at you, you certainly want to know he would wash ducks with you.

The story of the man who wouldn't wash ducks is almost complete, but there is one more fabulous detail to share.  After telling the couple who initiated the set up that he not only would he not wash ducks, but I never heard from him again, they finally must have convinced him that social propriety demanded as much, or perhaps as little of him as close out phone call.  And so, more than 2 weeks later, and ironically on my 30th birthday, that strange day in the female universe where one is faced with the uncertainty of whether or not life as you know it will actually end at the stroke of midnight (don't worry, it actually gets better), he did phone just to say "I don't want to see you anymore."   I live in a perpetual state of irony, and it provides a lot of laughs  So before he had spit it out and finished the call the doorbell was ringing, and flowers were being delivered by a wonderful guy-friend who did appreciate me for all my weirdness.  Shoulders shrugged, a pretty bouquet on my table and I was quickly on the phone with my girlfriends trying to decide if my book should be called "Men Who Won't Wash Ducks," or "My 30 Worst Birthdays...So Far."  Never did get around to it.  Thank goodness for the blog.

Thoughts on a Sunny Saturday

2nd day off.  Bliss.  As I sit at my computer today, coffee in hand, scrolling my mouse down the screen, I have to say how much I love social media.  I grew up with a wall mounted telephone where you had to use your finger to spin the dial for each of the numbers in the phone number...and it was a party line, meaning that the neighbours down the road had the same line, and could pick up the phone and hear you, or if they were using it you would have to wait before being allowed to dial out.  Now you could pick up the phone and interrupt the conversation and ask the other party to please let you have a turn (noting that I was the chatty teenager down the road and my poor neighbours had to resort to this once in a while to gain access to the outside world).  That sounds like many lifetimes ago, but really it was still the best technology we had as late as 1988 in Saskatchewan.  Those experiences stay with me, and so it is with delight that my smart phone functions as my alarm clock, emergency camera, and video camera.  Before I crawl out of bed I have used it to check email, answered the friends on Blackberry messenger, answered anyone on Whatsapp, responded to regular emails and facebook emails, and begun scanning facebook notifications.  I LOVE not needing to be awake when a conversation starts or ends, they just plunk along at convenient moments throughout the day, distant smiles and descriptions waiting to be discovered in a spare moment.  The only thing I don't use my phone for is voice conversations...if I have answered a phone call from you in the past couple of years, be impressed, for I am not actually sure what my ringtone is, and in general I don't have even have sound turned on on my phone.  I use it on my breaks, in line ups, and in the moments in between.  I keep in touch in the day's pauses between face to face conversations and tasks that require my attention.  I no longer turn on a ringer that will interrupt or distract me from the moment I am in.  I do skype, when I am home and stationary.  But my phone and I are always together and will check in soon, but we don't respond to being summoned on demand by a ringtone.

Phone aside, now there is facebook and blogging.  I have heard legend of things such as twitter and instagram, and flickr, but I have my hands full with the technology I know already.  I know a lot of people scorn the amount of personal information on facebook, and I agree there are some valid concerns.  But I confess I delight in drinking my coffee and scrolling down my news feed each morning.  Thousands of miles aways from some of the people dearest to my heart, unable to talk about the little stuff each day, I see the newest photos of their children and the updates on all of their firsts, I watch my friends as they explore foreign worlds and smile as they post the treasured pictures of the discoveries of the day...through their eyes I see them building homes in Belize, careers in Jeddah, Doha, Perth, and memories in Cambodia, Vietnam, Switzerland, France, Czech Republic, and beyond.  I see familiar scenes in America and Canada.  I witness reunions in Scotland, England, Ireland, and the Phillipines between my friends here and those dear to them that they speak of while here.  I see friends fall in love with people, places, sports, and occasionally even with an iguana type thing (that's you Tam!).  Whether you just landed from a skydiving record or spent the evening with candles, a book, and a bubble bath I read and smile knowing you are happy with your day and are living it just the right way for you.  From my adventure, I follow all of yours, and am grateful for each tidbit that you share.  I love all of my social media, but blogging is becoming a favorite...because it allows more detail than a status update.  And I don't mean that I love providing that detail, I genuinely enjoy reading the longer posts that a blog affords from my friends who are travelling, and hearing their own unique voices in their posts.

That said, back to my post.  I left off yesterday uncertain where the day would go, but with the sole hope that I would get a clear sky and a nice sunset picture to post today.  The day exceeded all expectations.  I took a lot of pictures today, but in order to get to the sunset one in this post, I will have to write like one of those movies where the ending happens first, and then you fade to the beginning and unravel the story from there.  So here it goes.

200 days and counting.

I have approximately 200 days left on the island.  If each of them were like today, it would be perfect.  And it would also break my heart to leave.  I guess that's why we have work.  I mostly jest, I have always loved what I do, and in some ways working here will be one of my favorite jobs, but I do crave a new experience and that is part of what compels me to go.  After publishing my post, I threw on some yoga pants and a light sweatshirt, grabbed my camera, and hopped on the scooter.  I had it in my mind to search for the first pairs of longtails rumoured to be back on island.  As I drove away from my yard I racked my brain for what had been on my list to see or photograph that I had mentally developed before all the rain last month.  The first thing that popped into my head led to an unsuccessful detour -- the site was closed on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays.  I doubled back and thought that I would drive up an interesting road I had never been before -- despite seeing as much of Bermuda as I have seen, I know there are countless treasures hidden off in the myriad maze of tangled little roads off the main ones.  This one however, was a private estate road, no trespassing.  I decided to honor it and get back on South Road and head back towards the hospital.  This required a second drive past some construction workers who were happy to pause and yell "hey baby!!!" and do a little dance.  While this in not uncommon in Bermuda, it did cross my mind that I should have expected it wearing leggings and an oversize t-shirt slipping off one shoulder with a neon tank below...when you dress like Flashdance, Flashdance will happen.  Duly noted.  Anyway....Echoing in my head was the voice of my old photography buddy Phil Gee, gone now for 4 whole days, not quite long enough to call him my long lost old photography buddy Phil.  It was just a week or so ago that we had talked about returning to the botanical gardens, as the flowers are different there in the different seasons.  The last time we met to do photos there was July 2013, so February should look very different.  I pulled into the gardens and the first thing I saw was...ducks!

He is pretty fly for a duck.  I shall call him Duckereux

Now, I have a bit of a soft spot for ducks.  Here's why.  As a kid, the first environmental disaster I ever heard of was the Exxon Valdez, and those images of oily suffering animals on TV stuck with me for life.  Had I been older than 15, I would have figured out how to get from Saskatchewan to Alaska to help.  My parents seemed to frown upon international hitchhiking attempts, so I was kind of out of luck.  In the summer of 2005, a train derailed near Lake Wabamum in Alberta, spilling 1.3 million litres of oil into the lake, only an hour and a half away from where I lived.  I promptly headed to the site on my days off work ready to scrub ducks as I had promised my 15 year old self I would do if it was ever needed again.  It was a lot different that I expected.  Unfortunately, the animals are not cleaned immediately, not even within the first few days.  Water dwelling creatures have an insulation system that makes them like feathered (or furred if you're a muskrat or beaver) wetsuits.  A drop of oil is like a hole in the wetsuit and can make impossible for the to keep body temperature up.  Then there is all the oil and toxins in their eyes, jammed into their noses and bills, all the toxins accidentally ingested.  No, the first days are spent collecting the animals and assessing them and cleaning the oil out of beaks and bills...a lot of euthanasia happens as many are too far gone.  Many more don't survive the following days.  They have the stress of human handling, fighting to maintain body temperature, and not succumbing to the poisons they were immersed in.  The next step is hydration and nutrition.  If they are going to survive, they need sustenance, and that's where rubber tubing and bottles of enfalac come in.  Afraid of steeping into a pen of hissing geese?  That's nothing until you step into a pen of oil covered hissing geese and start trying to slip a feeding tube down their throat.  Anyway, in the first days, after meeting a few university kids from Quebec who actually had hitchhiked across the country to help with the cleanup, I quickly ended up in the intake area with the vets, swabbing out oil, taking temperatures, tagging, and making records.  One particularly feisty little duck gave me a honk when I pulled her out of the collection box, and bit me with all the ferocity she could muster.  It was about as scary as facing down a butter knife and an irritated peanut butter sandwich...I couldn't help but laugh as she ground her little serrated bill against my fingers.

The duck that once bit me looked a little like this

The vet took a look at her blue tongue and said she was too far gone, too cold, and marked her for euthanasia.  I snatched her back and said she had spunk, and a lovely older volunteer did the most amazing thing....she distracted the vet with the next intake and took the little duck and placed her in a box she had in the corner...that she had plugged an electric blanket into.  It didn't take long til the vet wanted her back, and while impressed with her sudden improvement in temperature, he doubted that the hemoglobin was good enough but there was no way to tell.  "I'm a lab tech!" I said enthusiastically.  Next think I knew I was putting in 17 hour days with nothing but a refractometer and some capillary tubes to do hematocrits...it was a tough sacrifice, but in the absence of any other solution, I confess that I resorted to "mouth pipetting" duck blood.  The feisty duck lived, and it was worth it! Ever since then, I have had a kinship with ducks.  After the chaos of the first few days, I had to return to my official work.  I never did wash a duck, but I am sure i saved a few.  For the record, I have also used Dawn dish washing liquid exclusively ever since, not only does it clean up ducks, but you can log in each purchase and they donate to wildlife rescue for ever bottle sold.

Anyway, I had a lot of fun rolling in the grass photographing the ducks today.  I came across a pretty girl with unusual markings....

Pretty girl

And enjoyed their different looks, the little blue patch on this girls back was brilliant and reflective...

Project Runway Duck, flashing the hint of a surprise blue panel under practical brown

I looked down before scooting off and realized I was covered in leaves, grass, and dirt that I had rolled through and heard my mother's voice when she used to just shake her head when I came in from outside and say "you look like a ragamuffin" (it's a real word, I just checked), but it was worth it both then and now to have a day off in the sunlight admiring nature.  And this was just the start of my day....to be continued, I have more photos to take today to keep the blog rolling through any rainy days that may come.

Quack on....

Loving Lazy Friday

As it is with shift workers, I have today and tomorrow off, and work Sunday.  So my lazy Sunday has been moved forward to lazy Friday.  This involved a nice sleep in, 2 full cups of coffee before my healthy whole wheat naturally vanilla flavored cereal modelled upon my childhood favorite, Kellogg's mini-wheats (with the white frosted sweetness on one side of each one), flavored of course with almond milk rather than dairy milk.  I have adopted many of the well publicized health trends...greek yogurt, always whole wheat if it involves bread, pasta, or flour, choosing natural items, or at least the option with the least chemicals and preservatives.  I hope somewhere inside some cell is quietly thanking me for the reduced toxins and extra antioxidants...because it certainly has not made me slimmer.  In fact, I have gained weight the last couple of years as I have transitioned into healthier eating.  So I hope some microscopic good has come of this.  Although to be fair, I have my transgressions, and that box of delicious home made cookies that arrived earlier this week from upstate New York are likely to have lived a longer life in their journey here than they will in my home (recalling my previous posts, you will be happy to know that these cookies arrived in less than three months, making a speedy trip across the ocean to arrive in only 21 days!  A big shout out to Lanie and Tim for the gift.  Much like Karen cookies, Lainie cookies are a coveted prize, and have been used around the shores of Marley Beach as a currency over the years.  I believe a small package of them are travelling around Asia to be used as bribes at the present as well, and I recently heard that Qatar is brokering for some as well.)

On my lazy morning I perused the recent activity on facebook, read the online news, and caught up on everybody else's blog.  Through this I learned the Olympic Games opening ceremonies are on, but alas, they are listed on the Cablevision guide, but are not playing.  Another quirk of Bermuda.  I know some of the games will eventually show up on one of the channels, but the coverage is not as comprehensive as I recall from my days in Canada.  The cats are lounging, content with having me home for the day.  I wouldn't say hey are enthusiastic about it, just non-interested with my extra time here today as cats sometimes are.  Nothing is so humbling as co-habitating with felines.  I also learned that I was not the only one to open a closet on the weekend and find mould.  Facebook had abundant stories of leather jackets and favorite outfits and accessories that had succumbed to the scourge of January dark and dank.  I pulled out a pajama top from the bottom of the drawer last night and didn't realize til I saw my reflection in a mirror that I was modelling more mould.  Perhaps more cleaning needs to go on my to do list today.

The weather outside is pleasant but cloudy.  The last 2 nights have boasted gorgeous sunsets over town, and it is on my wish list to have clear skies at dusk today so that I can venture out and get a picture.  The news is already reporting signs of the returning spring, and therefore returning tourists, such as humpback whales sightings by researchers, a very early return of a few longtails, and union strikes by labourers resulting in the shut down of the bus and ferry service.

One of the nuances of life in Bermuda is the ants.  Much much lower on the list than cockroaches and mould, are ants.  I read somewhere once that the standing joke is that Bermuda is not a British colony, but an ant colony.  These are nice, ordinary little ants, not like the fire ants my friend Jody is contending with in Belize, but they do have a tendency to try to take over.  A while back there was a video going around that showed an American researcher who poured molten metal into an ant hill and dug it up to show the intricacy of their tunnels.

A metal cast of a regular ant colony in America (photo borrowed from internet, no credits were attached to share)

In Bermuda, if you do the same thing with concrete, it looks like this.

Initially you notice one of two, and despite knowing they are little scouts, you let them go because they aren't really bothering anything.  But within 48 hours they are back with friends, visible rows of 2 lane traffic coming in and out of the electrical outlet, the unseen gap in the frame of the door or a tiny opening between one of the tiles in the bathroom.  One of my cats, Harry, stays slim by chasing each kernel of food before he eats it.  This leaves lots of decoy areas on the floor, so my house ants never really interfere with the higher surfaces.  But nothing makes the cats more despondent than ants in their food bowl.  I hate killing them with spray, so I do my best to sweep the streams outside, and shake them out of the bowls before washing (and drowning any hanger-ons), but inevitably a few are sacrificed when their point of entry is sprayed with raid.  They are creative though...they will stay away from the sprayed spot, and pop out somewhere else you hadn't dreamed of.  After a particularly long battle of back and forth between me and the ants last spring, I finally sprayed around all of the windows and doors and every crack and crevice of the main floor.  I returned from work that evening.  I came home and was met at the door by JJ cat who let out a mournful yowl that was extremely out of character.  Always a hearty eater, I knew he was ranting to me about the injustice of ants in his food bowl.  Sure enough, I walked to his bowl and found it swarming, and followed the stream to its source.  The ants had scaled the outside wall of the house to the 2nd floor, accessed the house via an unsprayed window in the bedroom, trekked across the floor to the stairway, and unable use the spiral staircase, were marching up and down it's support pole and across the kitchen directly to the food bowl.

The ants are non-discriminating.  They also like to visit the lab where I work.  In the summers we will often find one or two, wondering where exactly they come from (we have never been able to find their entry point).  A petri dish of bacteria doesn't seem very enticing to most of us, but one morning I came in to work to find this note from my coworkers in place of the normal stack of cultures we keep at arms reach to perform tests with.

Well, pesky as they are, they are part of life in Bermuda, and not the worst problem on the list.  That said, I believe I have some ant sweeping to do today before I head out and see what awaits me on my day off.  If anyone is looking for something to do tonight, I heard a great recommendation for Lido, which has a buffet and wine tasting tonight and tomorrow.  Rumour has it $75 gets you a great meal and 10-12 wines to taste...this weekend France is being featured.   I suspect Lido has it's own ant issues, and the little fellas will be very happy tonight and slow moving tomorrow.  Happy weekend everyone!