Who Knew?

They look so content as they walk on a beach in Finland.  All appears calm.  That's my grandfather on the far right, with my grandmother at his side.  They are walking with friends.  The man in the hat looks like he'd be a fun guy.
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In a few years, my grandfather was dead.  He died in the war, 
fighting for Finland on the Russian front.  He was a man who loved playing his violin.  He enjoyed writing and drawing pictures as he did so.  My grandmother was left a young widow and my mother never got to know her Dad, as only his body returned.
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In the photo below, he is playing with his siblings.  BTW, notice the cat.  I guess it's a genetic thing.  His sister's husband ended up  also dying, according to Mom, on the front.  As a result, she suffered with emotional issues.  As to the younger boy, he too did not survive, if I recall what my mother told me.
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The wages of war effect and destroy many.  Let's hope there's a chance for Peace on Earth, although I doubt it.
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When a Photo Tells a Truth

This photo certainly captures my mood as of late.  

She's Hanging On

I've written about Dot's odd tumour previously.  A few years ago, I went to  bed after working my  usual night shift.  Dot had  been sneezing, but other than that, she was fine.  When I awoke four hours later (not much sleep for most people, but lots for me), Dot had a bulbous pink lump on her nose.  I thought that she had a bad case of the snots and gently, tried to wipe it off.  The lump remained.  I worked my shift and in the morning, I called the vet to set up an appointment.  I told the bemused vet that I thought the cat had a tumour and that it had grown in four hours.  A visit was arranged.

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I'm sure they thought I was the proverbial "crazy cat lady" when I showed up.   However, as I wrote previously, the tests revealed that she had a  malignancy.    Dot went on to have two surgeries, with the second unable to access the deep rooted tumour.  It would have been too invasive.  I was told that she was not in pain and that it was only a matter of time for it to return, although it was slow growing.    How it appeared in four hours in the first place is still a mystery and I am not satisfied with the answer that it was inside her nostril and came out  because she was sneezing so much.  I think it's the fact that all the food is now being out-sourced, but I digress.

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The tumour made a sudden reappearance.  She is doing okay, although acting more neurotic than usual.  Animals can develop something akin to dementia also.   She vet gave her some pain medication. in case she needs it, but it's impossible to give it to her.  Yes, the cat has kitty narcotics!

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Dot is a paroled cat.  Her previous home was one of the local prisons and she was a tiny, rescued feral.  There used to be a number of feral cats  at the facility, and the management team allowed some to be adopted by the residents.

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Dot is nineteen years old now and I've had her since she was about one.  This is going to be hard....like John Wayne tough.  

Fields of Gold (song by Sasha Lazard)

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I've been getting the "impending doom" message from my computer for a while.  You know the signs....the wheel that keeps on spinning and the start up engine that sounds  suspiciously like a cat about to cough up a hairball.   I'm not much of a tech person at all, but I've put some of the pictures with various songs.

Battle River Trestle

https://globalnews.ca/video/rd/1076167235521/
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It's no secret that I'm a rail fan.  In October, a train derailed off this bridge in Alberta.  Reports indicate that it was most likely caused by high winds.
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In this photo, the shadow of the trestle is visible.  However, if you look on the railing itself, it is possible to see that the guiderail has detached from the pole.
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That body of water is the Battle River.
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Those are cattle grazing below.  This gives some perspective as to the height of this bridge, which was built in 1908.
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It was hard to spot it, and I really had to crop the picture, but in the valley to the east of the trestle was an old homestead.  If you click on the photo, you can see its remains.  People often have an image of the prairies as being dull and totally flat, but that isn't true.  The colour spectrum may be subtle, but so is the woven work on  a  Missonni scarf, and nobody rejects that.

Predicting the Future at Three in the Morning

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Palm up, 

Flesh and future exposed,

I trace the lifeline.

Ouija with a razor.

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Pressure gentle, almost kind.

Tempting fate, taunting time.

I await the reprieve, that last minute call.

Some Capra-esque hero to stop my free-fall.

But who am I, Judge or condemned?

Whom do I pardon; who hears my amends?

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The mirror will not bargain,

The mirror won't conceal.

Naked truth, just the facts,

This magic eight ball shall reveal.

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There is no gentle grace in this, no sweet angels.

No arias  or auras or guides.

This will just be the end.

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The bird in the mist.

Understated Pride

While taking the train, I came upon this flag in a field in the middle of  a vast prairie field.  Who put it there?   There was nothing around for miles.
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