Now that the Mother Country's finances are back on even keel ..... and Mother Earth back on her axes and rotating well......and faith restored in the democratic process ..... I feel that I can once again fly the flag of the happy blogger. To boot ....one hell of a big decision has been made since the last time I posted ..... followed up with life - altering practical moves in its wake as you are surely aware of since you are all avid readers of Fluff's diary. My brain and emotions made the decision ... Fluff was on board immediately since she had already fallen in love with Saint John and the locals but my old bones took a wee bit longer to convince .... however , they finally came around to seeing things my way..
Not only are we moving back to my home town but our apartment building is nextdoor to my old grade school with a magnificent view from our livingroom and balcony northwestward towards Pokiok Road where I grew up ...... In fact , in the top left picture you notice a hump on the horizon just left of centre...... and that green speck on the cliffs overlooking the lower reaches of the Saint John River is the house where I was born. Unfortunately .... in hindsight I guess... I sold the house in 1993 when my Mom died.
In closing this blog I might add that I feel a kindred spirit with the Queen Mary 2 in background....... both our bows ( noses ) pointed in the same direction..... seaward towards new horizons. Best wishes to you all.......Mona and Timmy , Cindy in her new house on stilts , Julie - Ann , Jim , Chris , Pat over in Switzerland , Raenie in Mass., Barb who's voting Green Party.... as well as anyone else who might wander onto this site.
The above pic gives a "close up of the "hump on the horizon" which Raenie sweetly refers to as the "bump ". The drop off behind the house is roughly 600 feet over jagged rocks directly into the river below. Back in the 1940s two runaway horses dragged a delivery wagon and driver over the cliff . During a stag party back in the 1980s the groom's friends and brothers took him up to the cliffs to scare the living daylights out of him..... and they did just that !!! While trying to avoid being caught .... and being likewise very drunk......the poor fellow lost his footing and plummetted to certain death on the rocks below. Even my dear old Dad .......in his early 70s went over. Luckily for him and all of us the sturdy mountain cedars which grow profusedly there broke his fall and he managed to crawl back up to the top in spite of having broken his left arm.
I went out one sunny morning in July and there he was......hunkered down on one of my red pompom dahlias......... such a fine - looking wee "sauterelle "or grasshopper. I didn't think any more of him until I came out the following morning and found him still squatting on the same dahlia...????? The third morning I named him Raoul... pronounced with a long , drawn - out Texas drawl ! Wondering whether Raoul had simply landed there , liked the surroundings and view and pitched his tent OR had chosen that specific dahlia because of the colour....... sooo I grabbed him and set him gently on the neighbouring white dahlia named Sterling Silver ( my Dad's nickname for a big white dahlia ) , stepped back to see what Raoul would do .... if anything. 
