Summer Doldrums

15 Jul 25

06:15 hrs

     The summer heat is apon us. Every day in the Valley the morning begins calm. Peaceful. And then, the wind picks up. The cool of the night soon becomes a persistent hot push as if some unseen giant is using a massive hair dryer that builds in intensity throughout the day drying out the lawns, the crops and, most concerning, the forests. About a week ago, Environment Canuckistan had promised a fair amount of precipitation. I was working that day and the Valley recieved less than a misting while across the Strait i watched great sheets of rain sweep up the coast. Yesterday was hot. Today will be hotter. Not as hot as the Keystone province mind you but hot enough for us here at the Wayward Inn. The southern part of Ontari-ari-ari-oh has been suffering from a massive heat wave. It happens every year and every year the rest of the country has to listen to the populace whine. It doesn't bother me. I've learned to close out the noise from the Whine Country.

      My summer has been sown up with a large project at work. And a lot of it is night shifts. Specifically, graveyards. Gordo and I are alternating weeks on the project which gives us a break and flexibility to the Boss. 

     My Friend from Over the Hump is having a knee replacement done in the next couple of days. It's about time he gets some new parts. He turns 80 next year.

     The Catio Annex has been rebuilt. It is now smaller and more vertical. We also have a new tenant. Miss Mocha. We gave back the two fosters as they could not mix with our two fuzz balls. But, my Better Half decided we needed a third that would, hopefully with fingers double crossed, get along with Da Boyz. After the prescribed time and coordinated interactions we are back to square one with Da Boyz running and hiding the entire day whenever Miss Mocha is loose. If she spots them she puts the run on them so we end up sequestering our two and she gets the run of the house. Jack is a nervous wreck and Mr. Wilson finds a spider hole to crawl into for the day. Miss Mocha was a straight adoption. Not a foster to adopt, so I do not know what to do. 

     Despite the tariffs slowing down some construction in Canuckistan there are some mystery projects going up here in The Valley. Over towards the Big Box Store and Home Despot something is slowly taking shape. Everyone hopes it will be a new restaurant but some believe it will be another gas station. A restaurant would be nice as long as it's not another chain burger joint. We have enough of those. Unless of course, it's a Harvey's. A Harvey's burger is bloody amazing and if you have one in your neck of the woods I am envious. 

     There is also a new multi-purpose building going up about a klick or two from the Wayward Inn. I heard it will be a store front with apartments on the upper level. Time will tell. 

19 Jul 25

06:30 hrs

     Two days ago I quietly remembered my father's passing. I called the Sage and spoke to her. Both of us remembering him with great fondness. No one at the Wayward Inn said a word. Have they forgotten him already? I haven't  and will not.

We've been invaded!

29 Jun 25

17:00 hrs

     That's right Campers, we have been invaded. Not by persons untoward. Nor by some multitude of creepy crawlies. This particular invader is huge and airborne. 

     Close to the Wayward Inn is a patch of forest that has been home to the odd trash panda, a bambi or two, rooks, songbirds and eagles. This spring we began hearing something like ducks softly quaking. It sounded like it was coming from the MAGA Albertan's backyard. Wouldn't surprise me as he ripped out his back lawn three years ago and installed an ASTRO turf putting green with a water feature. We soon learned that it was not a duck or two puddling in a pond. A shadow crossed the lawn and then another followed by some very loud clacking in the nearby woods. This was soon followed by a cacophony of caw, screams, clacks and other sounds that I cannot even begin to describe. The sound continued all night. A couple of days later my Lobster spotted not one or two but four mysterious birds flying above forest. She called me outside to take a look at them. What I saw looked more prehistoric than anything else. By all accounts I was looking at a bona-fide pterodactyl. Long necked, long heavy pointy beak, wide tapered wings for soaring and a set of legs trailing aft. In the coming days the two pairs, likely mating pairs I might add, were discovered to be only a fifth of the squadon of aerial beasties. That's correct. Twenty or more likely ten mating pairs all squawking and screeching off and on throughout the day and night. I think someone should rename the patch of forest as Jurassic Park.