When I replaced our front deck 3 years ago, this little tree was growing under the deck, right up against the cement foundation. it was just a few inches tall when I transplanted it in the lawn. I wasn't sure it would grow, but here it is, well over a foot high and doing very well.
In keeping with the name of our street, Sprucewood Drive, I planted a small blue spruce in 2004. It has grown about eight inches a year and now stands over three feet tall. I tried to post a picture for each year, but for the life of me I couldn't get the images to appear in the proper sequence
These appear fairly well arranged when composed but I have no idea how they will look when posted. Although the pictures are of the kids at various ages, the youngest are at the top and the oldest at the bottom.
After much frustration, trial and error, experimentation and tearing of hair, we managed at last to establish contact by webcam. This is Couch Potato, late at night, after receiving an update from microsoft in response to an error report, as viewed on my computer monitor. I guess she was laughing at my unsightly appearance on her own screen.
Caught by a photographer for the local paper, two grizzled old vets shiver in the cold Yarmouth April weather at a ceremony held to commemorate the Battle of Vimy Ridge, fought by Canadian troops in the first world war. They don't look very happy. The one on the right looks vaguely familiar.
While delving through my slides, scanning some to put on a disk, I came across these two gems. Susan, (the name Nannan had not yet been coined), heard that goat's milk was very nutritious. So she decided to get herself a nanny, (goat). Here it is, tethered to a stake in the pasture. The problem was, she didn't know how to milk it. So she invited me over to give her a few pointers.
Now, I had no experience milking goats, although I had milked a lot of cows while growing up on a farm. A job we often referred to as "pulling tits". (never once, in my years on the farm, did I hear a farmer refer to those things as "teats). But I thought the principle must be the same so I agreed. Unlike milking a cow, which is done from the side, a goat is attacked from the rear. As I leaned over to do the job, I remarked to Susan, "I never thought I'd ever stoop to this".
Unfortunately, the goat project didn't pan out. Apparently the kids were not enamored with the taste of goat's milk. So poor Nanny lost her job. However, during her short stay, she aroused quite a bit of interest, as shown by her admirers here.
When we were posted to France in 1957, one of the first things I bought was a new camera. I have accumulated 13 trays of slides, each tray containing 140 images. Since my projector broke down recently I needed to find some way to make use of the pictures. When I saw a scanner with an feature allowing the copying of slides at a reasonable price, I took it home. Since them I have spent hours making copies. Here is a picture I took at a cemetery near Marville, France. Hundreds of skulls, and a stack of arm and leg bones stacked up against the wall on the left. Kinda gruesome, eh? Lord knows how long ago these people passed away. On a more cheerful note, Nannan is shown above with our new zephyr automobile, somewhere in France.