Saturday, August 29, 2015

Ghostly Galleon

The nearly full moon hung like a golden orb in the indigo sky last night. Around the camp, details not normally seen at night were fully visible. The wind was absent and the waves almost silent. I could hear the faint strum of a guitar and wished that I was there. Groups of people gathered around campfires, an activity as old as mankind. Safe in the circle of light there was laughter and murmured conversations.

We hadn't bothered to pick up firewood so we retreated to the brash light from the TV.

This afternoon I was feeling antsy, even after a walk down lighthouse lane, so invited the people across the way for a beer. John, Maureen, and their daughter Catherine, joined us for a few hours of conversation. I don't know what Carm and John talked about (maybe some of it was about working for the Ottawa Fire department), but the rest of us talked about dogs, training, feeding, and anything else canine. They have a chocolate lab that was with her breeder having just had puppies - they are getting the 2nd pick of the litter. Puppies! I love puppies.

The writing books that I have been reading suggest writing a memory every day. I don't know if I remember enough to do this for long, but I'll start today with this memory that I was recalling with Mom just the other day.

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In 1991 we got our first Blue & Gold macaw, Zack. There were few supplies, toys and cages to chose from in Canada but Zack needed a proper cage so I started looking farther afield. I poured over 'Bird Talk' magazine, a US publication, comparing features and prices until I found what I wanted: a large black iron cage with outside access feeders for a reasonable price. I placed my order with the company in California and started waiting, impatiently I might add. Googgle maps was years away from being created, so I checked my paper atlas as it made its way across the US and into Canada.  Zack was quickly becoming too big for the dog crate he was in - his new home couldn't get here fast enough.

There was one problem though - we had a small hatchback and this was a huge iron monstrosity. Mom to the rescue with her trusty van. She picked me up from work and we wended our way through the industrial area until we found the depot. The freight guys squeezed it into the van and may have wondered how we'd get it out again. We hadn't thought that far but knew we'd find a way. My mom has passed her resourcefulness to me, so together we are a formidable pair! Oh, we struggled, lugged, and heaved and hawed and finally got it across the grass to the front door. As we stepped onto the cement sidewalk we looked at each other and laughed, nearly falling down at the hilarity of our 'dooh'. We could have simply parked the van further up the laneway, removed the cage from its box, installed the wheels, and simply wheeled the cage down the path! Resourcefulness arrived several minutes too late.

With our sides still aching from so much laughter we man-handled the cage in the door and up the stairs. We'd done it!

I installed an assortment of toys and perches then put Zack in his new home. He seemed pleased and oblivious to the trouble it had taken to get it to him. The next day he learned how to open the door to let himself out. Hummm. Technology, in the form of a padlock put an end to that!

Zack stopped living in that cage many, many years ago - now it casts its shadow on the back deck as Grace's outdoor playground.

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The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.  ~Alfred Noyes