So last weekend, we had 80 km. per hour winds along with a few centimeters of snow for a truly delightful prairie blizzard! It was mostly gone in a few days, however yesterday and the day prior, a second storm arrived, sans the wind, thank goodness! It was a very wet snowfall, mid-calf deep.

The robins seemed not to mind however. Around a dozen or so congregated in our crabapple tree to sample last fall's delights, which are no doubt somewhat fermented by now. You can see him contemplating one more apple for the road (in the upper right hand corner).

Another even tried out the berries on the mountain ash. Nice color coordination, don't you think?

We farmers don't mind the extra moisture though. Spring should be back by the weekend.

Another One off the Bucket List

Rising long before dawn one day last week, Roni and I found ourselves out in the desert north of Phoenix. The occasion was our first hot-air balloon ride.

Regular fans half inflated the balloon before the propane burners did the rest (note that the hot air is in the balloon behind us).

Along with nine other souls and our pilot, the lift off was surprisingly uneventful - no sudden surge, or pop to free us from earth's gravity; nor any music from the Fifth Dimension. Just a sense that things on the ground were getting smaller.

Traveling along with the slight breeze, there was no sense of speed, nor any wind either, of course. The only real noise was that of the propane burners which the pilot would ignite for about 5 seconds to control our ascent/descent. When the burners were off, you could hear sounds drifting up from the ground - bird songs, traffic, construction noises, and so on. A little like being in the middle of a quiet lake in a canoe. We rose to about 3000 feet above ground level.

Roni discussing landing techniques with our pilot.

Another balloon from the same company launched nearby at the same time as we did, so we had a bit of company during our ride.

After about an hour aloft, our pilot brought us down in an open area about 3 or 4 miles away. We had to hop over some low bushes before finally settling down.

Awaiting us was a gourmet champagne breakfast, apparently a tradition for first-time balloonists like us!

The Balloonist's Prayer
"The winds have welcomed you with softness. The sun has blessed you with his warm hands. You have flown so well and so high, that God has joined you in your laughter and set you gently back again into the loving arms of Mother Earth."

WHAT THE .......?????!!!!

Yes, it certainly looks like the Edmonton Oilers to me....!

Scottsdale's Fashion Square Mall

The weather forecast for this week is for lots of rain and cloud, beginning Monday. We decided to make the best of our Sunday by visiting the Desert Botanical Garden at Scottsdale, just north-east of Phoenix. Heading out from the Village, we headed west on Main Street, through Tempe and the university district, right smack into the Phoenix marathon. Only a few blocks from our destination, we were told that you can't get there from here - try going back onto the freeway, switch to another freeway and make your entrance from the north - it might be open there.

OK. We do all that and end up in Scottsdale, only to be told that you can't get there from here. Maybe try another route, but it doesn't look good.

Well, folks our age can only do so much after consuming a small (16 oz.) coffee without finding a washroom. We zip into a couple of likely places only to find that they are closed on Sundays. OK. We find a mall and there, like a beacon from above is a Starbucks - hallelujah! And I'm not referring to the prospect of a coffee grande.

Mission accomplished, we wander back outside and note that this Starbucks is located in Scottsdale's Fashion Square Mall, and parked near our car is one of Scottsdale's finest, a policeman in his patrol car.

"May I ask you a question sir" I inquire politely?

"Sure" he says as he takes time out from crime-fighting. "What do you need to know?"

"How can I get to the Desert Botanical Garden with this marathon on," I ask?

"That would be real tough" he says. "Not at least until three o'clock".

"Shoot" I say! "No, just kidding! Darn it, I mean."

"That's all right", he says. "Why don't you just do what all the other white folks in Scottsdale do on a Sunday afternoon and go shopping?" (The officer in question is black.)

"You're standing outside one of the ritziest malls in the country right now. You could take your little missus in to Tiffany and Co. for a Valentine's bracelet, and pick up a new outfit for each of you at Hugo Boss. Cartier has a great spring sunglasses collection this year, and you should replace that old watch of yours at Bvlgari's. What man wouldn't like a set of BeoLab5 loudspeakers from Bang and Oulafsson? Seeing as how you are from out-of-state, you both probably need a new set of luggage from Louis Vuitton. I know Jimmy Choo has some great new 4" heel sandals that the wife might like, and you look like you could use a new belt and shoes from Gucci, sir," he says.

"If you still have some time after that, drop by Neiman Marcus and pick up one of those cute Bugatti Veyron model cars. And I don't mind saying that your wife would look darned cute in an Emilio Pucci swimsuit" he says with a wink.

Well, after being so helpful, what could we do but follow his advice? I sure wished Megan and Lenore had been along to help us find all those stores though. Where are the pros when you need them? And wouldn't it have been nice to have Laurel's counsel on choosing just the right sizes and styles? I probably picked the wrong colours on half these things. Oh well, the sales clerks did say I could always return anything as long as it hasn't been taken out of the wrapper and the Oilers win 20 consecutive games in 2010. No worries!

Raymondo on his quest of fulfilling the officer's suggestions.

Raymondo takes time out to mix with the locals.

By the way, we did make it to the Desert Botannical Gardens around three o'clock that afternoon, although with the car's trunk almost dragging on the ground. We passed up the Ferrari and Lamborghini dealerships, figuring we might well have to sell Doug and Lenore's RV just to make the minimum VISA payment next month.

You think A-Rod has it tough?

Those of you who have been following my athletic endeavors have no doubt been concerned about my recovery from those two red road rashes on my knees. To disbelief and sometimes outright laughter I've been telling people that they are rug burns. But I digress. You'll be relieved to learn that they have nearly stopped bleeding and are healing nicely; nicely enough that on Tuesday I was out on the ball diamond again with the team.

Hopes were high as the mighty Val Vista Villagers were mightily stoked to take on the Apache Wells Warriors. The day previously, we even took practice at our batting-cage facility! We each had about three sets of 20 swings at the pitching machine's offerings. If I do say so myself, my last set would have yielded about 10-15 hits.... not too bad for a guy who didn't really make the big impression he hoped the last time out.

I took my usual yoga stretching exercises, then catching warm-ups followed by fielding practice. At my first opportunity to chase down a fly ball, something rather weird happened - I couldn't run! What the heck?? I tried again, but one would never confuse me with the guy whose nickname used to be the "gazelle"!

Seems I must have overdone my warm-ups a tad and pulled a groin muscle.

Rather sheepishly, I quietly advised my manager Dale that I'd not be a position to help the team much today. His response seemed to be a mixture of disbelief and outright laughter (Dale is 75 and his brother, the pitcher, is 80).

Let me tell you, when I looked at the inside of my thigh the next day and saw the angry purple color from my knee all the way up to my ...... groin, my response was also disbelief, but certainly not laughter!

After a couple of days of very slowly hobbling around, my thoughts were that perhaps I should take a month's leave from the rigours of slow-pitch and take up something less strenuous, like kick-boxing or running marathons. I mean, I'm not 25 any more. If I were, say, like Allan, I would fully expect to recover by lunchtime. But I'm not. I might not fully recover until March!

A League of His Own?

I hadn't yet finished unpacking the trunk of the car on Sunday when a neighbour at the Val Vista RV park approached and invited me to participate in a slow-pitch game (these guys don't waste any time). "What the heck", I thought, it's not like my dance card was filled up yet. "OK" I said, where and when?

A couple of days later, Dale and his brother Roy picked me up and stopped off at the batting cage on the way to the park - "just for a few practice swings" they said. I got the distinct impression that, despite an apparent recommendation from a now-absent snowbird, they were wondering about just what they had invited on to their team. Well after about 20 pitches and a couple of hits (hey, it has been a few years since I last swung a bat in anger) we were off to Apache Wells and the diamond. These guys were 15 or 20 years older than me so what's to worry about?

Actually, I may have been the youngest player on either team and definitely the best-looking.

The sun was warm with clear skies and little wind. Everyone was friendly and laid-back, greeting each other after the Christmas and New Year's break. Most of that cameraderie evaporated rather quickly with the first disputed play. "Oh, these guys take their ball seriously" I thought. And one could certainly see that in years gone by, these players were probably all better than I had been.

Well, after a few at-bats, I managed a couple of hits, an RBI or two and a face plant between first and second base. Seems my legs were not working in sync with my visualizations.... Oh well, wiped off the blood (an initiation of sorts, I figure) and carried on. Arriving back at the RV, Dale presented me with a grapefruit right off his tree and invited me back next Tuesday. I'll see. This morning, this body is definitely feeling the effects of swinging a bat and a long layoff from almost any type of running, never mind base-running. Those guys are tough!!!


Raymondo with the proffered grapefruit (yes I know it's called a "cactus league" in Arizona, but close enough), and a smile. Notice the two skinned knees.

A Visit to Grandma's House

There are few things more pleasant than a visit to Grandma's house. We made that stop on our way back home after a recent visit to eastern Saskatchewan.

Much to our delight, we weren't the only ones with that thought. More than doubling up on the pleasure, we got to visit her with Doug and Lenore, as well as Paul and Kim and their delightful crew.

Naturally, the art gallery picked up a few new acquisitions. The gallery also witnessed an enthusiastic game of hide-and-seek.

Some of the contributing artists in a photo op with Grandma C.

Grandma also had time to show off some of her newly refreshed interior decor.

The back entry is a bit brighter these days...

.... as are the front rooms.

Good neighbour Ron S. stopped in while walking his dog and we were all proudly introduced. Commenting on how nice it was to have a good portion of the family for a visit, including two of her three sons, Grandma Clara said with a sigh, “If only Ted were here it would be perfect. Oh well, I suppose two out of three is better than nothing”.

Love you Grandma! We'll visit again soon!