Of Ice And Men

22 February 2011      1.00PM       Temperature 7 F       Beautiful blue skies and sunny.

I was lying down on the snow today, between Friddy and Kazek, gazing up at a perfect blue sky with the sun blazing down and the following phrase popped into my mind. Les petits oiseaux chantent sur la branche d’un arbre sous un ciel bleu.  It’s a phrase from my childhood, used by my best friend at the drop of a hat in every essay he was ever required to write by our French teacher.  To be totally honest, all I ever remembered was the bit about the “little birds” and the “blue sky”  but I know there was something about a tree in there too.

So there I am, sunbathing ( in my Carrharts, jacket, hat and big boots – after all, it was 0 F out there, despite the blue sky and sun) and thinking about my youth. Half remembered stories and thoughts like the day we had to do a Listening Comprehension test for the Latin class. I could have sworn that she definitely said something about a soldier standing behind the curtain with a sword – turns out it was a servant with a candle or it could have been Colonel Mustard with a lead pipe. To this day, I’m still surprised I ever passed my Latin O Grade exam – the only Latin test I ever did pass, it has to be said. Not that there is a lot of call for Latin in daily life, well not mine anyway. However, I will always remember “Flavia puella est.”

Anyway, having misremembered phrases from my past, I did deliberately butcher the title of Mr Steinbeck’s literary classic. It was either that or else call this blog “Ice, Ice Baby” and who would ever admit to knowing where that comes from.

Big ice dams on our gutter
The ice factory has been operating well
A long icicle hanging from the gatehouse roof
3 foot icicle Feb 2011

Of course, these are natural ice productions, the warm spell a while ago caused the snow to melt but it had no where to go so it then refroze and now we have gutters full of ice and icicles. Unfortunately the really big ones have all been broken off. The 3 foot one is on the gatehouse out in the yard.

Then there are those man made ice sculptures. Or should I say dog made. In our yard, we actually have very poor production from our artists. I have seen some truly amazing output from some sled dogs. Friddy is the only boy who seems to take any pride in his “art”.

Yellow ice sculpture
Friddy's yellow ice sculpture
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One thought on “Of Ice And Men

  1. Ho there! It was “gazouillaient” (twittering), and the sky was “sans nuage” as well as being blue, but, yes, those birds were in the trees every time. And spooky spookiness. Only this week did I recount to my long-suffering secretary that a recurring feature of a certain person’s French essays were little birds twittering etc etc! Hope the back continues to improve. Keep on with the blogging. It’s good to see the odd familiar face.

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