Listening to Way Out West, by Marty Stuart and His Fabulous Superlatives. This is Marty Stuart’s ode to California, full of twangy surf guitars, excellent songwriting, a taste of far-out gospel and as a bonus, some irresistible instrumentals. This is the kind of record you… Read More
From a Go game last evening: the large white group on the right side is dead. White was doing OK with a good territory in the lower left and another along the top, but I poked at his shape on the right side and my… Read More
Toronto City Council has approved a one-year pilot – beginning this fall – which will significantly change the way people get around the city. For a 2.6 km stretch between Bathurst and Jarvis, there will be no through traffic from private vehicles allowed. If you… Read More
I met up with my brother the trout, Salvelinus fontinalis, this morning to do a little foraging. The good news is chanterelles have begun fruiting in the Enchanted Mushroom Forest. They’re still pretty small, many still buttons, but we found around 30 of these tasty… Read More
I learned this tune at Midwest Banjo Camp at the beginning of June this year, from Cathy Barton Para. It was in a class about tunes played by Ramona Jones, but I think she got this one from Jimmy Driftwood. This tune is played in… Read More
Over the past several days, there have been black-crowned night herons hanging out in Sam Smith Park. If you want to see them, head for the bridge just to the west of the yacht club and look north. You will likely see a couple people… Read More
We took off for a few hours today, leaving The Partners to look after the house. Before we went though, we took them to the leash free park over at Etobicoke Creek so they could romp and swim and chase and generally have a ball.
I’ve been making paintings for a lot of years now and sometimes the whole damned thing remains a mystery to me. I guess that’s what keeps me doing it. I’ve never been a painter who exhibits a bunch of variations on a motif or anything… Read More
That’s what my father used to say whenever we’d have a rainy stretch. Never mind he never grew rhubarb. He grew just about everything else though, and he had a green thumb. My love for gardens and gardening came from him for sure. He’d start… Read More
It’s Murry McLauchlan singing Down by the Henry Moore…
27th Street 