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Welcome to INCOMING BYTES
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Morgidoo’s Christmas Carol: The Bells of Blister
A Timeless Christmas Legend
*For readers of all ages.
“What if bells no longer rang?
In this unique tale, bells do not ring. They have been silent since the Great Silver Bell disappeared hundreds of years earlier -and snow, once as warm as popcorn, turned cold. Villagers may scoff at the old bell ringer and his stories, but Morgidoo Morgan believes the legend, and offers hope as he follows in the footsteps of his father to search for the Great Silver Bell. Will bells ever ring again? Enjoy this unique, timeless classic written to be enjoyed by readers of all ages.https://www.amazon.com/Morgidoos-Christmas-Carol-Bells-Blister/dp/1523683821
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Category Archives: Yard & Garden
Writing Life: Spiritual Contentment in Gardening
©2008, 2013 by Raymond Alexander Kukkee
[caption id="attachment_1636" align="aligncenter" width="584"] Early-morning Serenity in Gardening[/caption]
Spiritual Contentment in Gardening
Breathe deeply in the freshness of the earth and carefully pull the weeds from the garden and listen to the early birds chirping at seven in the morning. The sun is coming up, and a gentle breeze is refreshing, but cool. Why be so early? The weeds in the vegetable patch can wait, can they not? Perhaps one should procrastinate and sleep late, but the serenity of gardening in the early morning is preferable. I find spiritual contentment in gardening. Weeds aside, in my garden everything works perfectly. Perhaps the weeds, too, are perfect, for they do encourage me to think, to examine every tiny plant in detail and to decide which is which . I know most of them. I choose the weeds. The roots come out of the moist earth easily after a gentle rain. Chickweed, amaranth, crab grass, and even stringy wild buckwheat that grows like ivy decorates my vegetable rows. Canadian thistles, even as babies, are perfectly protected with thorns, reminding me to put my gloves back on. Dandelions in the middle of the wide carrot row are in flower, their brilliant yellow flowers waiting to be picked by a curious gardening child and offered to Grandma as a gift from heaven. I leave them. Somehow, earlier in the spring, the cultivator missed their deep, powerful roots too. How wonderful for Grandma. How perfect. Pear, plum, cherry and apple blossoms are out, it is so natural, so simple; the blossoms smell wonderful and sweet and in the perfection of God's plan, offer the cedar waxwings something to eat. The waxwings prefer the pink crab-apple blossoms for some reason. Maybe they taste better, but it matters not, there are thousands of blossoms to taste. Spiritual contentment allows choice. Dogs lay in the grass silently, wagging their tails and quietly watching me when they are not gazing at the squirrels high above them in the black ash trees. The squirrels in turn chatter at the birds; the robins hop from branch to branch, carrying twigs, grass, and long strands of white horse-hair for weaving and nest-building. The nests are almost finished.. I am almost finished the third row, and it is time to lean against the hoe, straighten the complaining muscles, and watch the bottom of the sun leave the horizon. I close my eyes and thank God for the blessings of life offered by our wonderful garden. I have found spiritual contentment in the earth itself, in the spiritual patience that comes naturally with growing things. All weeds are included, as we have decided weeds are special plants offering special and unique reasons to be with us. As I watch the sun rise, my mind is at peace, a strange and total serenity, but I can smell fresh morning coffee. Spiritual contentment is everywhere we seek it. The next word, the next page, the next row,- the one with little beets and lettuce in it -and chickweed- can wait until tomorrow morning. And then there are always the potatoes. Is that incoming I hear? photo © by r.a.kukkee
Posted in Home & Hearth, Life, Reflections, The Human Mind, Writing Life, Yard & Garden
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Gardening Life: Two stones
© 2013 Raymond Alexander Kukkee
[caption id="attachment_1574" align="aligncenter" width="584"] Garden Rocks of the Past[/caption]
beach silt casting sand so fine somebody might be tempted to cast bronze bells with it, but we haven't found anyone clever enough to buy it yet. Besides, we're holding out for surprises, we're gardeners.
"What's that," you ask, " What kind of surprises?" Yes, well, bones. Unidentified bone, remember? The bone nobody could identify, relaxing in cool, damp, pink clay for centuries, undisturbed, perfectly sealed and protected. Until I dug it out, that is. That was an interesting surprise. See?
They look at me strangely, exchange knowing glances, and try to escape to Timmy's for coffee, leaving me mumbling to myself. I offer them a shovel. "Let's not get too carried away, that looks like work." I hear one laughing as they leave.
The real question is, "where did those big stones really come from?" might have occurred to genuinely interested and even inquisitive coffee-drinkers. Every wise gardener knows visitors they show up unannounced.The stones, I mean. Uh, huh. The fact is, much to the dismay of cultivators, gardeners and disbelievers all, Jack Frost heaves them up, a little bit every year, one at a time, two stones at a time, or dozens annually, like it or not.
I resign myself to the unnecessary ways of Jack Frost and get back on the shovel. Not leaning on it, but genuine digging. That's a given if I want any teeth left on the antique cultivator next season..... I dig'em out, the stones, I mean, there's no stopping me, gardeners are brave and persistent. I think better of it and go have coffee first.
[caption id="attachment_1577" align="alignleft" width="584"] Original Garden Rock--Several tons-Removed from the same garden plot[/caption]
By the way, there's actually a simple method to get huge stones out of a hole in your garden, hundred-pound brutes or bigger. Even thousand pound beasts. I'll fill you in on that technique, you can find that here. Let's say you have two stones to work with. Big ones. Anyone can lift pebbles out of the garden, but to get big, clay-covered, slick, wet and rounded rocks out of a hole? That takes some work...but it's amazingly simple. You'll see that it's a good idea to dig them out before they get any bigger.
Is that incoming I hear?
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Photos © r.a.kukkee
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"Big Stones Grow in Ontario"
In the gardening life, when the new growing season finally rolls around, loyal growers of vegetables working hard at tilling the dark earth never know quite what to expect. Gardening is discovery. It's a given that some fortunate gardening types have discovered lovely, rich organic soil in the back yard, a foot or more deep with nary a stone in sight. Others have discovered converted gravel pits. Have you ever seen signs, "Clean fill wanted" on undeveloped lots? They get it free, 'clean fill with boulders, old cement blocks, bricks and assorted trash, you get the idea. Surprises for the new homeowner/gardener. Yet other folks have discovered bone-dry, brick-hard clay, not easy to till, and it grows flat potatoes. In the annual spring ritual, some lucky stiffs have even found dirt-encrusted diamonds, gold nuggets, old fishing lures, the odd old skull, or even older mason jars full of cash. It's called gardening. We, on the other hand, discovered stones. In times past, long ago- we discovered we are blessed with a quasi-usable offering of heavy dirt containing clay, loam, and a mundane collection of very ordinary stones of various ages and sizes. Glacial till might best describe it. No diamonds or gold nuggets here. Perhaps the odd tiny piece of quartz, or bloodstone,-- those can be exciting, but no, most are ordinary rocks. That flash of red was a wrinkled beet I missed last year. Sprouting already. No matter, it's another 'good earth' garden discovery in the weedery. Perhaps that top layer, enriched by a few centuries of grass, leaf mold and forest duff -extends down 6" or 8" in our garden if we're lucky. In Northwestern Ontario, the local topsoil --the best stuff--supposedly went down south with the glaciers. Underneath our remaining topsoil there is a layer of clay, two feet thick or more, with a hardpan layer beneath that-- so hard it tests the patience of a pick-axe. The stuff is hard. It looks like concrete. Well, okay, not quite, it's brown, but so what, it's got just as many assorted pebbles in it and gravel bits, you name it. Beneath all of that exciting stuff is an undetermined thickness ofTwo Stones
Then there are stones. Big ones. Two stones. Two new ones this year, that is. They keep appearing out of nowhere. For a garden that's been in the same spot for 30 years with the stony soil turned and cultivated annually, one would think all of the stones should have been found, or migrated into handy rock piles on the sidelines somehow by now. Some softer types may may be turned into sand by the aging rototiller, which hates stones, -but that's another story. Regardless, they should be gone by now, discovered by the weeder's hoe, shovel, or unfortunate toe ---but no. These are intact, dedicated rocks, hard, stubborn rocks that apparently were too big to wash up on ancient beaches and rolled back into the garden wannabe backwash sediment and stayed there, lurking. Until we came along to garden, that is, a gazillion centuries later after the ancient lakes disappeared. [caption id="attachment_1575" align="alignleft" width="300"] Two NEW garden stones[/caption] This year, twice again, the antique cultivator went flying, and we don't have to wonder why, the poor old teeth hit huge stones. Two stones. A hundred+-pounder and a relative baby, perhaps sixty pounds of sub-rounded, field-smooth greywhacke -- heavier than I care to have to lift out of a hole. "How come there are still stones in your garden? " casual observers ask. "How is that possible?" "Why didn't you just take the stones out of your garden in the first place?" They ask innocently, smirking with devious intent. "I do, " I say, "every year, see this one?" politely refraining from whacking the inquisitor upside the head with my long-handled shovel. "They grow, like magic mushrooms" I explain. "They grow faster than potatoes, just below the surface of the soil, and lurk there like icebergs, waiting to attack my cultivator." Sometimes the curious even believe me. Maybe. They scratch their heads in wonder. If they turn out to be non-believers, I try the birds and the bees approach for comic relief. "Two stones or more procreate, hatching pebbles and small stones in endless generations of gravel and rocks" .
Posted in Home & Hearth, Landscaping, Reflections, The Unknown, Yard & Garden
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