Ever wonder where birds go during a snowstorm? We’re experiencing some bad blowing snow around Toronto this afternoon. I took a look out the window to the yard. At first I didn’t see any birds, but soon I started picking them out, in the barberry bushes, deep in the red osier dogwood, and along the wooden fence.
I tried to photograph the cardinals and sparrows from inside. I saw a mourning dove out front earlier but I don’t know where it’s hiding. When the storm was just starting, several chickadees came to the feeder to grab some calories before it got too bad. No sign of the house finches today.
We’ve been watching spy films lately. In particular, we’ve been watching the slow, plodding films based on John le Carré novels. This includes both of those British mini-series featuring Alec Guinness as George Smiley, and yesterday we watched The Spy Who Came in From the Cold, with Richard Burton.
There are at least a couple camps. In the James Bond movies, the protagonist is fit, brilliant, a crack shot, athletic and a magnet for super-attractive women. The only similarity in the other camp is that the protagonist is male. Le Carré’s characters are older middle aged men, somewhat frumpy, and certainly not athletic. In the case of George Smiley, everyone asks him how Anne is doing. Anne is his chronically unfaithful wife, and of course everyone in the spy community knows who she is bedding at the moment.
The Bond films seem to me much like super-hero comics, with simplistic plots in which nasty (but wealthy) bad guys live in swanky secret lairs where they plot the destruction of western society. They usually have many employees who shoot machine guns (a lot) and plenty of stuff blows up spectacularly. The good guys always win. Sort of professional wrestling for spies. In the other camp, everything is grey, from the skies to the plots to the morals of the characters. There isn’t a lot of action. The characters mostly drink and smoke a lot. Double-crosses are the rule.
My dad was a fan of the John le Carré novels. I recall as a teen trying to read on and not getting very far. I couldn’t handle the slow pace of the damned things. These days I enjoy them, and the movies too. I’ve never been a big fan of the Bond films on the other hand, although I suppose a few of them are watchable.
Next up we have a curious cross-over between the two camps. The Russia House is based on the Le Carré novel of the same title (which I’ve read), but it stars Sean Connery, who made his career as James Bond. This one is from 1990. Connery’s co-star is Michelle Pfeiffer. It gets mixed reviews, a 75% critic score on Rotten Tomatoes (and a 50% audience score) – it should be right up my alley.
Of course there is a third camp, where all spies are spoofed. Remember those wonderfully terrible Matt Helm films starring Dean Martin? And let’s not forget Our Man Flint, with James Coburn. Wait, maybe we should forget these? Better in the spoof department was the stylish British show, The Avengers.
Where do those Michael Caine “Harry Palmer” films fit in?
At a certain point a number of months ago, a space alien appeared on my face, more specifically on my right cheek. It was subtle at first. It looked like 3 or 4 raised lesions, slightly lighter than my skin colour and it was not very obvious. Over the past couple months it became somewhat more pronounced. You may not have noticed this though, as it lived just under the bottom rim of my glasses.
I made a “note to self” to get it checked next time I visited the doctor. I did this. “Hey doc”, I said, “Check out the space alien growing on my face.” “That’s odd,” he said. “Not that I’m necessarily worried about it, but I’m going to send you to a dermatologist.” I was expecting it to take a long time to get a dermatologist appointment, as that is often the case when consulting with a specialist, but in fact it only took a couple weeks.
Friday I sallied forth up to North York to the clinic. It was easy to find. There was a big sign, and there was a parking lot. Of course they charged for parking, and of course the neighbourhood around it was full on no parking signs. I paid up and went in.
I wasn’t sure how long it was going to take to get up to this clinic so I arrived early. Those who know me know I’m early for everything. I rode up the elevator thinking, I guess I have a long wait. After all, how many doctors are on time, right? It turns out I was wrong.
The clinic was hopping. There were several employees behind the desk and loads of people in the waiting room. I checked in, filled out a form and sat down. They called my name moments later, 10 minutes early. I was led into an office and joined the doc just a couple minutes later.
He introduced himself, and got right down to business. “Let me see the thing on your cheek”. He looked at it through a lens, and immediately told me what it was. It had a specific name which I forgot even as he told me, because all I heard was the adjective he used: harmless. “How did I get such a space alien on my face, doc?” “It was a gift from your mom or dad,” Thanks Mom and Dad for the space alien.
“We can get rid of it if you like, but since it’s harmless, there is a fee – $150. If it were harmful, OHIP wold cover it”. I asked the only reasonable question under the circumstances. “How exactly would you get rid of my harmless space alien?” “Well,” he said, “There are two options. If you wanted to get rid of it right away, I would freeze your face, then scrape it off.” This would take care of it, but of course it would leave an open wound to heal up.” Hmmmm. “The other option is to use liquid nitrogen. I could spray it and in a matter of a couple weeks it would disappear.”
“OK doc, I don’t mind paying to send my alien back to Saturn but I’m not a big fan of open wounds.” “OK, we’ll blast it with liquid nitrogen then”. Phazers on stun. He picked up an aerosol can, told me it would sting and then he sprayed the crap out of my cheek. This caused the space alien to look bigger and lighter and angrier and it cause the rest of my cheek to go beet red. “OK, we’re done. If you need a touch-up in a few weeks, I can do that no charge.” I was in his office no more than two minutes.
space alien 2 days after blasting
The stinging disappeared after a time and so did the redness. Now the space alien is starting to look sadder. If Spock were here, he would make contact using a Vulcan mind meld, I just know he would. And the alien would tell him, “I WAS HARMLESS AND NOW IT IS ALL OVER.”
Last evening we trundled out to Tarragon Theatre to see Kiviuq Returns: An Inuit Epic, which finishes its run tonight. This is a performance based on legends of the Inuit hero Kiviuq, as remembered and shared by Inuit elders.
This play is performed entirely in Inuktitut on a sparse stage, which make use of movable screens and video projections to bring to life the landscape and to show elders recounting the stories. It was fascinating watching a play performed in a language we don’t understand. We were emailed the program notes in advance so we had a chance to read up on the material presented in advance. This helped some, and although it was difficult to remember all the notes, the acting also helped clue us on on what the stories were about. There were some moments in which I found myself confused along the way, but on the whole I thought performing the play in Inuktitut made perfect sense.
From the director, Laakkuluk Williamson Bathory: “Inuktitut is the language of Kiviuq Returns. Let it wash over you. Look for the intent, listen for the emotion, hear the cracks of smiles, the lines of sorrow.
The play entertaining and moving, and the throat singing was fantastic. The play tells us Inuit stories on their terms, some of which were apparently banned in the past by missionaries and the Canadian government. It generously shares with us a glimpse of Inuit culture, and we appreciated the opportunity to be there to take it all in.
I woke up this morning hearing freezing rain warnings on the radio. I was not too happy about that since today’s winter nature walk with Miles Hearn was happening at 10:00 AM at Ashbridges Bay across the other side of Toronto.
cottonwood buds
The good news was the freezing rain never materialized. The bad news was a light rain, which persisted throughout the walk. Fortunately, I layered up well and have a good rain jacket from my Canada Post days. I also tucked a pair of hand warmers into a pair of thrummed mittens, so I was toasty.
Mulberry – very distinctive orangey bark
It turned out to be a lovely walk. The chickadees at Ashbridges Bay are very bold and I’m convinced some of them were following us around. Miles carries seed and we stopped so those who wanted to could hand-feed the chickadees. We also saw cardinals, gulls and a variety of ducks, including gadwalls, long tail ducks, common goldeneye, mallards, buffleheads and mergansers.
Gadwalls
The plant I enjoyed seeing most this morning was sea buckthorn. There was one bush still full of berries. Sea buckthorn berries are edible and nutritious – but sour – and are good in baking.
Sea Buckthorn berries
I’m fascinated by the ice formations in the lake and along the shore. When I first looked out into the bay, it looked like it was totally frozen over, but as we walked along away from the beach it became obvious it wasn’t actually frozen and this icy surface was undulating. I shot a bit of video.
Icing up, Ashbridge’s Bay
Here are some shots of some of prettiest ice formations we saw on today’s walk.
Our old furnace is just that – old. But it’s been serviceable. Our nephew Terence is in the heating/air conditioning business and he’s been suggesting over the past two or three years that it might be time to get a new (and more efficient) one. Of course it’s never a good time for a big cash outlay, is it, and it’s been working so we once again said, let’s try to get it through another winter.
Then came yesterday. Intense cold. It started with a water main break up the street causing Twenty Seventh Street to flow like a river. Our water was out for much of the day. As I type this there is still a crew at work performing whatever magic they have to do to restore balance in the universe.
Next, out furnace crapped out. Terence came by and messed around with it and got it working again but that turned out to be a temporary condition. We decide to bite the bullet and get a new unit rather than pump cash into a furnace at the end of its natural life. This will cause outdoor temperatures to rise significantly, right? In any case, we need a working furnace, and the new one should be reliable for many years to come.
Cedar waxwings tend to hang out in groups and I never know when I’m going to see them. This morning, Tuffy P left for work, got as far as the car and came right back. “Red alert – cedar waxwings!” They were in our locust and in the crab apple next door, and they were flying over a few at a time to grab some rose hips from the wild rose bush beside the driveway. I grabbed the camera and went out in my slippers, no jacket, to snap a few shots.
27th Street 