Christmas Storm

 Rather an odd Christmas this year:

Chris, Jason, Cigi, Mike, Aimee, Avery, Maya, River and myself celebrated about a month ago in Edmonton, with the focus on the meal and the children.

Nicola, Simon, Mark and I took Christmas dinner to Mum and Dad's the weekend before Christmas and the focus was on the meal and gifts for Mum and Dad.

Rick and I had planned to go to Nic and Dave's on Christmas Eve, to spend it with them and Kevin and Broghan but that was cancelled due to the weather. Rick drove down from Hamilton in, to quote him, perhaps the worst driving he had ever done, and we spent it quietly at home. Christmas Day we drove up to Hamilton for his families Christmas dinner (focus again on the meal and I got to meet family members that I had only heard by name) and then up to Guelph for the delayed Christmas Eve celebration, sans Kev and Broghan.

All a bit messy.

But the high winds and freezing temperatures turned the Port Dover lakeshore into a fantasyland  of ice sculptures:

Some rather unhappy looking Mallards

as the harbour is full of ice pancakes

and everything is covered with a thick crust of ice.

Not the sparkly, glittering crust of ice on a sunny day, after freezing rain. No, this is so thick it turns bushes into solid mounds of ice, slightly dirty looking due to the sand churned up in the waves.

The Fisherman's Memorial is almost unrecognizable

with their three heads looking like walruses or aliens.

In the more sheltered area, by the stores, only the seats of the benches are draped in ice but that area flooded during the worst of the wind storm.

The bench by the memorial is absolutely encased,

as are the ones out on the pier

and some have been pushed out of alignment.

I have seen many pictures on Facebook and I understand why. It is fascinatingly photogenic.

The walk out to the end was treacherous, with Rick and I holding each other up (or going down together). There were more ducks in the open water

as well as Common Mergansers.

The lighthouse had some protection from the high walls at the end of the pier

but the shed out there didn't

nor did the east lighthouse,

that had grown roots of ice or

the lighthouse at the marina entrance.

We drove around to the commercial harbour

for another slippery walk

marveling at the effects

of the waves on the trees.

It didn't take much imagination

to find hooded figures with long flowing robes,

monsters, and fairies and elephants, oh my.

Even ED2 suffered, weighed down by a coat of ice.

The temperatures are supposed to rise this week and all of this will disappear.

December birding

 It has taken me a while to get over the bronchitis and Christmas prep has kept me busy, but everything is tinged by saddness at the loss of Aimee Todd. The following is from her obituary:

Aimee “Lou Lou” was a legend: at once gentle, fierce, curious, funny, compassionate,
adventurous and wise. She was warm, open and accepting. She lived by embracing her
favourite dictum, “It is what it is.” She was often referred to as a firecracker and a minx. From
the time she started driving she had a need for speed (inherited by her son) and she sought it
throughout her life with various muscle cars and motorcycles. Aimee loved to laugh and make
others laugh and when something struck her as funny there was no stopping the full-on
hysterics. She was a feminist and a passionate advocate for people with disabilities, animals and
water conservation. Aimee celebrated diversity and was keenly curious about the world and all
of the people in it. Her love for travel and adventure never wavered.

Aimee had the singular gift of seeing people in the fullness of who they were and accepting
them unconditionally. The many gifts she provided to her family and friends will be deeply
missed but her spirit will live on in the hearts and minds of all who loved her. Good-bye and
good luck, Aimee Lou. 

Greg and Aimee were our next door neighbours, in Paris, for about 15years and the friendship formed lasted after they moved to another area. Aimee and I spent many Friday evenings in the hot tub (with a bottle of wine or 2), partied, walked and talked, traveled, went on road trips and relaxed at their cottage at Honey Harbour. We had 2 weeks in Portugal together this spring. I was able to spend three days with her just before she chose Medical Assistance In Dieing. I am so thankful this was available to her and cut short her suffering from Pancreatic Cancer.

Rick has been a shoulder to cry on and it has been good for me to have someone to understand that I am not that "into" Christmas this year and provide quiet companionship and a walking buddy to get me out of the house.

On our way to Long Point we found the Sandhill Cranes. Not the full fields we have seen before

but still plenty to see and hear, on the ground

and in the air.

We stopped to take pictures of the swans

by this place. I have always though it

a very picturesque derelict.

Trumpeter Swans - black legs and beaks

American Kestrel, so pretty.

We drove across the Causeway (the bridge is finally finished).

Plenty of Mallards but I couldn't get a photo of the Northern Harrier, too fast.

There was a strong Southwest wind so walked on the marsh side.

The water level is lower later in the year

so we were able to walk further out into the marsh than we had been before.

The trail ended at a little beach

and the bird life was all too far away for good pictures.

The walk back was freezing, into the wind. We stopped, on the causeway

to take photos of

more Sandhill Cranes.

Another day, a short walk at Silver Lake netted some Hooded Mergansers

and something I had never seen before, an Osage Orange tree.

 

Maclura pomifera, commonly known as the Osage orange (/ˈoʊseɪdʒ/ OH-sayj), is a small deciduous tree or large shrub, native to the south-central United States. It typically grows about 8 to 15 metres (30–50 ft) tall. The distinctive fruit, a multiple fruit, is roughly spherical, bumpy, 8 to 15 centimetres (3–6 in) in diameter, and turns bright yellow-green in the fall. The fruits secrete a sticky white latex when cut or damaged. Despite the name "Osage orange",^[5] it is not related to the orange.^[6] It is a member of the mulberry family, Moraceae.^[7] Due to its latex secretions and woody pulp, the fruit is typically not eaten by humans and rarely by foraging animals. from Wikipedia.

I had never heard of it before, Rick identified it.

In spite of what Wikipedia said, I only noticed it because

a squirrel was eating the fruit.

Closer to home, a Red-tailed Hawk taking off from my pine tree. Photo by Rick.

and finally Cigi, who thinks plum sauce is a beverage.