To blog or not to blog, that is the question

 Why do I do this? Write this blog, I mean. I was wondering this the other day as I got behind on my self-imposed quota of entries for the year. I suppose writing helps me sort myself out and, I like to write. I don't like it enough to make serious space for it every day, or to want to write the Great Canadian Novel. I write a journal entry every day and have done, off and on, for much of my life. I have journals piled up in boxes on a shelf and someday I may go back and read through them or, once I kick the bucket, someone else may consign all of them to paper recycling or use them as fire starter. By that time it certainly won't make any difference to me.

I guess writing is a bit like woodworking: it's the process as well as the end result that matters. I like getting things down. It's a way of figuring out what I want to say and also, once I've said it, it's a way of moving on. I also use writing as a kind of punctuation to say to myself, this is important; remember this. It's easy for me to get bogged down and grumpy at the world and when I focus on the things that are going well, the everyday things that make me smile, it helps me see the world and myself with a kinder eye. I don't want to come across as terminally cheery because I'm far from that; however when I remind myself in words of the 'good bits' in my own life it makes me feel a better. So, I guess I write first for myself.

Why don't I just keep my ramblings in a notebook instead of publishing them?  Knowing that someone other than me is reading this makes me more thoughtful and more careful. Is this really what I want to say? I can't take back the words once I've sent them off into the cloud. Putting my thoughts in the form of a blog helps me the check-in with myself on what is and isn't worth saying. In hindsight I may change my mind but, all I can do is honestly consider the question in the moment and then let the words go. Knowing you are out there, that some of you read each post I make and look forward to my new ones helps to keep me at it. It's about companionship as we stumble through day-to-day existence. We can be in different cities, time zones and countries and still connect.

Thanks for the company; it's important.

Challenges

Well here it is February 2018 and I haven't posted for a while. I've have half a dozen drafts on various subjects and it's been a challenge finding one that I actually want to publish. I've been thinking a lot about challenges lately, both the ones we choose and the ones we don't. It's been a tough couple of months. My brother-in-law died in December and my father-in-law had another stroke on Christmas Eve. Close friends have also experienced deaths in their families. In an effort to balance the worry and sadness I've challenged myself to find moments of delight. I follow a couple of bird photography pages on Facebook and every day they provide me with photos of Alberta and Canadian birds. I'm in awe, not only of the birds but also of the photographers who get out there in the snow and cold to capture moments in the life of such wonderful creatures.

Tiny Box #2

Tiny Box #3

Of course, a dependable source of delight is my woodwork. I saw a YouTube video on making tiny boxes and decided to give it a try. I've made three so far mostly by hand. I like making the boxes and I like holding them in my hands once they are made. I like the painstaking process of fitting the corners one plane stroke at a time. The boxes aren't perfect but my skills are increasing and I'm very pleased with the results. As I was turning one of the boxes over in my hands I had the crazy idea that I might try to build 100 tiny boxes this year. Practically speaking, I'm behind because I would need to build almost two a week and I have built three in a month; however the absolute improbability of reaching such a goal makes me smile whenever I think about it. What if I really could pull it off? What if I don't pull it off? It simply doesn't matter. It will be fun. It will be a challenge. Thinking about the possibility makes me feel good.

I subscribe to a number of woodworking channels on YouTube and every once in a while I get a suggestion to take a look at a video of someone's workshop. One of the video suggestion was about the workshop of a dulcimer builder. I've never given much thought to dulcimers but down the rabbit hole I went. I watched the suggested video. Then I looked up other dulcimer makers. I read a bit about the history of mountain dulcimers, listened to people play them and found an article on how to make a dulcimer without using any power tools. I was hooked and another idea occurred to me.

Boards for the dulcimer top ready for glue-up

Most years the Southern Alberta Woodworkers Society has a 2X4 contest. You don't actually have to use a 2X4 but you do have to use the equivalent amount of wood. I began to wonder if I could build a mountain dulcimer from a 2X4. My research tells me that the folks who first made dulcimers in the Appalachian mountains used whatever wood they could get their hands on and sometimes they used bent nails for the frets. I decided to use one of the cedar 2X4's that I had in the garage. I ordered fret wire, tuners, and strings off the internet and they should be here in the next couple of weeks. I'm learning how to plane thin pieces of wood by clamping one end to the bench. I'm excited to get out into the shop and start work at the beginning of the day. I've checked the back and top pieces to see what they sound like when I tap them. I don't know exactly what I'm listening for but I know I want wood that rings and doesn't go 'thunk.' I'm a little worried about getting the frets in the right place but I'll take it one step at a time and learn as I go. Of course, once I get a dulcimer built I'll need to learn to play it at least a little and that too, will be challenging and exciting.

I think another reason to attempt a dulcimer is as a precursor to a ukulele build. With the encouragement of a member of SAWS, and partly because of my new desire not to put things off, I contacted a luthier who helps people build their own instruments. I asked if there was a chance I could work with him. He emailed me with a 'yes' and a request that I phone him. I did. We talked and I might be able to start a build as soon as the end of February.

I know there will be frustrations and moments when I wish I had never thought of tiny boxes, dulcimers or ukuleles, but I'm excited by the possibilities. I'll let you know how it goes.

It doesn't pay to get complacent

Odie and the carrier

A couple of weeks ago we had Robin, the bird trainer, back to see how things were going and to give us some suggestions about how to get Odie to go into his carrier willingly. That's important so that eventually either of us can take Odie where he needs to go. As it stands now, Richard has to put him into the carrier for visits to the vet or when Odie 'goes to camp.'

I was worried that Odie would decide he didn't want to cooperate while Robin was there but he was a regular little show-off. He targeted on cue, turned around when I asked him to and stepped on and off the rope perch. When he's out on his gym he often rings the bell on one of his toys and I've been giving him a treat when he does it. He even showed Robin his bell-ringing prowess.

Robin was delighted with the progress we've made. She gave us some suggestions as to next steps with the carrier and she encouraged us to keep working with Odie the way we are doing. I admit to feeling a bit smug when she said that Odie and I both got A+ for the training.

A day or so later we were in a festive mood and decided to add a battery- operated candle to the dining room table. We had it on while we ate and then set it to come on before dinner the next night. I so happened that Odie was on Richard's shoulder the next night when the candle came on. Odie freaked out. He lunged at Richard's face and bit him on the cheek. Richard tried to get Odie back onto his cage while Odie hung on with his feet and flapped his wings furiously. Not knowing how best to help, I offered Odie the rope perch and, to my surprise, he stepped on it. I put him back onto his cage while Richard went into the bathroom to mop up the blood.

When a bird perceives a threat it will sometimes try to drive its mate away from the danger. We think that's what Odie did when the candle came on. To say that the experience was a wee bit unsettling for all of us is an understatement. The bite wasn't deep; it healed up quickly and gradually our interactions with Odie returned to normal. It's just another reminder never to take Odie's behaviour for granted and to try to anticipate things that might scare him as he has a tendency to bite first and think later. It also makes me very thankful that we opted for a small parrot and not a cockatoo! And, by the way, we moved the candle to the living room.

On coloratura and hand saws

On the weekend. I was fortunate to be able to attend a workshop given by Andrea Hill who is in Calgary to sing Rosina in Rossini's The Barber of Seville. The time flew by as Andrea talked about her experience as a singer and what she has learned.

The gathering was informal and Andrea was down-to-earth. She often prefaced a remark with a phrase like, “This is what I've found works for me,” or “What I've learned so far is.” She noted that two teachers might say completely opposite things and both be right depending on the student's experience and physical make-up. Andrea told the story of a teacher who helped her move her singing forward in significant ways. Then the progress stopped and it was time to move on. She spoke of how colleagues had helped her with different aspects of her singing and she stressed the importance of finding out what your voice can do and developing that to the best of your ability. Andrea told of a colleague whose voice enables her to sing one type of role brilliantly; however, she hates that kind of role and wants to do other roles not suited to her voice. Andrea said, “You have the voice you have and you can't exactly return to the store and get a new one.” She talked about putting in the hours of practice, finding the people who can best teach you what you need to learn and then giving up control and trusting that your body and voice know how to do what they need to do.

As I listened I found myself thinking about my work with hand tools and wood. I am beginning to understand how to let go and not overpower the saw when making a cut. The turning point for me was a phrase Paul Sellers used in one of his videos: he said to start a cut you stroke the wood with the teeth of the saw. Because of the hours upon hours of practice and frustration I have put in, that phrase at that time allowed me to let go and let the saw do the work.

That's cause for a huge celebration but I know I haven't got it made. Things can go sideways at any moment. David Pye, who was a professor of furniture design at the Royal College of Art, said when working with hand tools a person engages in 'the workmanship of risk.' One cut may be perfectly perpendicular and the next one may stray at a slight angle. One note may be sung accurately and beautifully and the next one may be slightly off. A piece of writing may flow smoothly and the next one is a total slog. On some ordinary days life seems to sail along while other ordinary days are grey and crush the slightest attempt to move forward.

Andrea said for years she avoided singing coloratura, those passages in opera which seem to have millions of notes that go blindingly fast and either lie high or ridiculously high in pitch. It was difficult to learn and to do it she needed to stop thinking about every note and instead think of anchor notes and broad gestures in the music. She had to sing legato in order to sing the rapid passages. She spoke often of learning to 'ride the breath.' She advised us to learn to sing coloratura if we really wanted to sing well. That stopped me. I've always assumed that it was too hard and I wouldn't be any good at it anyway. I gave myself a mental slap upside the head. How many times have I said to students that purpose of doing something is to learn from the experience? Andrea stressed that lessons we need to learn in singing are lessons we need to learn in life and visa versa. In life, as in singing, there comes a point where a we must let go of control and trust. Andrea characterized moving through her life and her career as constantly seeking a balance between control and grace and, she observed, “Control never wins.”

To do something with grace, to me, is to step off a precipice into an abyss knowing I will either fall or soar and that, either way, stepping off is what I must do. I want to be able to work wood with grace. I want to be able to sing with grace and, most of all, I want to live my life with grace. I have so much to learn and I am grateful for Andrea Hill who has taken the time to hone her craft, to reflect on what that means and to share both craft and meaning with others. 

The Graveyard of Blog Posts

The wonderful thing about writing a blog, at least the way I do it, is that I have no deadlines and I'm not obliged to write to keep food on the table. Thinking that some of you might be interested in our cycling trip to Holland and Belgium, I tried three times to write a post about one aspect of another of the holiday. No go. One sounded extremely whiny and nobody wants to read that. Besides, I enjoyed the trip overall and whining about bits of it would give the wrong impression. The two posts were just plain tedious and if they're tedious to me why would anyone else would want to read them? It was tempting to get something posted because I'm behind on the self-imposed number of posts this year but all the writing felt awkward and uncomfortable so I decided it was better say nothing.

I'm not sure why it's so hard to write about holidays. When I try to cover what we did and where we went it ends up sounding about as interesting as a shopping list. Maybe it's because I spend a lot of time in my head and when I'm seeing so much that is new I'm busy taking it all in rather than thinking about it. Even the funny or dramatic incidents sound trite when I try to capture them in words. So where does this leave me? I don't think I'm going to be writing about the trip in the near future and I know some of you would be interested in it. I have put together a photo album with captions and, if you like, you can go to this address and take a look. https://photos.app.goo.gl/zpcO7M4mSlrimiL83 

Apologies to those of you who have already seen this album. As I have time to recall bits and pieces of the trip something blog-worthy may come up and if it does I'll follow the lead. This tiny dilemma has reminded me to stop, take a breath and ask 'why am I doing this?' It has also helped me to realize that I want to offer something to think about in this space. It feels good to have discovered and articulated that.

Thanks for reading this. I appreciate your support.

Side note: I wrote this is a word processing program and pasted in the text rather than working directly in blogger. The text is too crowded but I'll leave it for now and experiment with other possibilities in the future.

Weird and wonderful bicycles

A bike that can walk!

After supper in Cuijk, Marijka, our guide, announced that she was going to take us on a walk to see some bicycles.  I was feeling lazy and didn't think I really needed to see any more bicycles but decided to go along. As we walked she told us the story of how she had met the maker of these bikes.  She was walking one night and came upon a huge bicycle in front of his house.  He was in the yard and she stopped to talk. He invited her into his back garden to see some of his other bikes. She was captivated and, as she prepared to leave, she asked if she could bring some of her tour participants by the next day. He agreed and his garden has been a stop on her tours ever since.

Within moments of entering his back garden, everyone was smiling and the braver of us were trying out the bikes. I think the one with the wooden shoes was my favourite. As the rider pedals the feet walk forward providing a rather slow and bumpy ride.

The saddle-testing bike

Sometimes it's hard to choose a saddle.  No problem try one and if you don't like it just rotate it out of the way and try another one.







Got a set of long horns? Use them as handlebars.

Richard trying out the longhorn bike.

I'm not exactly sure what this one was.

Glenn, part of the small Canadian contingent, checking out a cruiser.

I'm very glad I decided to go on the walk. The bikes and the photos of them provide me with a long-lasting gift of whimsy.

A different take on cycling

A bike parking in front of a home

We recently returned from a bike and barge trip in Holland and Belgium. Of course I had heard about the prevalence of bicycles but it was hard for me to imagine how important bikes are to everyday life there.

Bike with a kiddie seat in front

Everywhere we went we saw bicycles and not just one or two, bike lanes and pathways were crowded with bicycles. There were special traffic lights for bikes, and many many miles of beautiful pathways in the countryside. Our guide told us that kids in The Netherlands ride bikes from the time they are small.  They ride to school in all seasons and in all weather because that's the only way to get there. Dutch bikes are thoughtfully designed for everyday transportation. They have plastic chain guards so you don't get your clothing dirty and some have platforms welded to the front to support boxes or bags of groceries. For children too small to ride their own bikes there are seats in front of the adult rider.

We saw the lycra-clad folks on road bikes whizzing along in neat lines outside the cities but most of the folks on bikes were in ordinary street clothes.  There were gangs of teenage boys riding together and laughing loudly, seemingly delighted to pass the odd-looking tourists in their helmets. Only the roadies seem to wear helmets in The Netherlands. There were women with bags of groceries on their bikes. There were construction workers in their heavy boots, hard hats and reflective vests.  We saw women cycling in high heels and folks older than we are out on their bikes on the canal paths. On a ferry we met four people who were cycling to a nearby town for lunch on a Sunday afternoon.

Toinne parking our bikes on the higher level in the garage

Then there are the bike garages. We parked in one that had 4500 spaces and that wasn't the largest one in the country. In Utrecht the main garage will eventually hold 12, 500 bikes and, as The Guardian reports in this article, some think it will be too small. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/aug/07/worlds-biggest-bike-parking-garage-utrecht-netherlands

The big bike parkades are located near the central train stations so that people can park their bikes and then take the train.  Some people have two bikes, one to get from home to the train and one to get from the train to work. They ride in the rain and in the snow and hop on their bikes as we would hop in our cars. Car drivers are used to cyclists and they wait patiently behind until there is room to pass, even if there is a line of 20 cyclists on a narrow rural road.

A bike parkade

The Netherlands, of course, is a smaller country than Canada. There are  approximately 17 million people in The Netherlands and 36 million in Canada.  The area of The Netherlands is around 42,000 km2 while the area of Alberta is roughly 662,00 km2 so there are more people in a smaller area to make use of the infrastructure. I can't help wondering if the city of Calgary, for instance, could ever be more like Amsterdam in the way it accepts and provides for cycling as a way of life. There is sometimes the heavy snowfall and cold temperatures but there are still usually 6 months where the pavement is free of ice and, during the winter, the city does clear some of the more heavily used pathways into the downtown core. I wonder what it takes to create a culture where a bike isn't either for kids, roadies or people who want to ride on mountain trails.

Maybe the terrain also has something to do with it. Holland and Belgium are not 'flat' but the hills are relatively gradual. I found I could easily tackle most of them by hanging back from the cyclists ahead, shifting to a lower gear and the powering up the hill. The steepest hills seemed to be coming off ferries or climbing up to an overpass over a busy highway. Rarely did I need to shift gears in the middle of the hill and it was a totally different strategy than riding the hills at home where I tend to put the bike in a low gear, find a fairly low cadence so I can keep my feet moving and so I don't get too out of breath. The bikes we rode had 8 speeds and I found 6 sufficient for my needs.

Richard's noble steed for the trip

The bikes we rode were of a totally different design than our bikes at home and we wondered how we would adapt.  All have lower beams rather than the high bar of the triangular frame of the road or mountain bikes making it easier to mount and dismount. The riding position is more upright, perfect for sight-seeing without crooking your neck. Our bikes had gearing in an internal rear hub and a grip shift to change gears.

Since coming back from Holland I'm trying to regard my bike differently, as a vehicle for transportation as well as a vehicle for recreation and fitness. I don't think I'll ever get to the point where I see the bike as my primary mode of transportation but I now consider the possibility of riding to pick up a few groceries or to an appointment. I don't have to go fast and I don't necessarily have to put on all my bike duds. I do wear a helmet which most of the Dutch and Flemish riders didn't. I also wear my cycling shoes since I like the clipless pedals on my bike. One of the things that drove me slightly crazy on the bikes we rode was I couldn't clip in and pull up on the pedal to get it to the correct level for starting off.

I enjoyed the trip and I'm intrigued by what it would be like to live in a bicycle-centric culture.  I also wonder what the rate of head injuries in Holland is compared to Canada where helmets are more common. Are the Dutch more skilled riders since they ride almost from birth?  Are the speeds slower so injuries are less severe? That's something I'll have to investigate. In the meantime it was an eye-opening trip to a small country with rich agriculture, great art and miles and miles of places to cycle.