The homes to the west of St. Joseph's Hospital in London were once owned by the elite of the city. Many of these grand, old places have been demolished over the passing years but a good number are still standing and in good condition. Walking about the neighbourhood while waiting for friend to be discharged from the hospital can be a real pleasure if the weather cooperates as it did the other day.
My wife and I had to take a senior friend to the hospital to visit the eye clinic. Recently, the friend's one eye endured an operation. The wait for the operation was incredibly long unless she agreed to drive a hundred kms southwest of London to another clinic, a private clinic. The trip was long and the treatment was expensive. And the results were questionable. This was the bad,
The recent trip to the London clinic was her second follow-up appointment. With the eye now fully recovered from its recent ordeal, the examination went well. The doctor told her he could improve on the treatment result. He'd take a laser and reshape the lens in her eye. And, best of all, he would perform the operation immediately. After an hour spent recuperating, she emerged from the hospital with her vision immensely improved. This was the good.
And the ugly? The new hospital addition. Compared to the older, yellow-brick Victorian building, the addition, at least to me, looked downright ugly.
The guitar music sounded distant and possibly slightly distorted. It was both. A young man was bearing down on me rather quickly, rollerblading down a paved path while simultaneously playing his guitar. I was unable to grab a picture of the multi-talented musician approaching, but I did get off one fast photo before he disappeared.
The trade between ancient cities and civilizations always fascinated me as a child. Today, as an adult, I am still fascinated by the extent of trade, often global in nature. And I puzzle over what exactly it all means.
Breakfast this morning was waffles. The waffle-maker was made in China by an American company. The waffle mix came straight from the States. The strawberries, maple syrup and whipped cream are Canadian in origin, while the peaches are from Austria of all places.
When I was a boy Ontario canned and bottled a lot of peaches. No more. All the canning plants in Ontario are long gone. Closed. There are but very few bottlers of peaches remaining in the province.
These tomatoes looked wonderful in the store. Big, bright red, a bit of green from the vines still attached. These tomatoes are almost works of art. Hot house grown, carefully nurtured for the perfect look, what else could one ask of a tomato?
Well, not to put too fine a point on this, but how about taste and texture to start. These tomatoes are rock-solid hard. They lack juice and are even missing the distinctive tomato fragrance.
There was a rumour a few years ago that the latest hot-house tomatoes being grown in southwester Ontario were going to be more like the tomatoes so many of us recall from our youth. Since shipping was no longer a problem, these tomatoes are grown but hours from market, tomatoes able to resist the worst handling imaginable would no longer carry a premium. Breeding for taste would become the dominant driver.
I'm disappointed to inform all that tomato breeders are finding it difficult to dig themselves out of the tomato hell into which they have tumbled. Meanwhile, oddly enough, there are still diced tomatoes in cans and those wily canners seem to know where to go when seeking tasty tomatoes.
I often read that the suburbs are horrible places. Why? Well, for one thing, there are too many rows of look-alike homes. I cannot speak for all towns and cities but in London the developers try to NOT sell two homes of the same design side-by-side. There may by a number of similar, even very similar, homes in a new development but these are rarely located right beside each other.
But, in older heritage neighbourhoods, building rows of similar looking homes was not only common but it was often the rule. I think these old times builders must have thought that imitation was the sincerest form of flattery.
The row of homes shown are in a very desirable heritage neighbourhood in Stratford, Ontario, about forty-five minutes northeast of London.
If you go out, wear a mask. If possible, don't go out. Stay in. And millions of folk are staying home, staying in and going quietly stir-crazy. Spring and the promise of getting out gardening is the bright light at the end of the covid-19 tunnel.
My wife has vacuumed all carpets and rugs. She has polished all our wood floors. Our bathrooms are so clean you could . . . well, you get the idea. At second thought, put that idea out of your mind.
Heck, the other day she wiped down my bald head and treated it with some fancy lotion. I sparkle.
Today I caught her cleaning our aging toaster. She could smell bread crumbs burning, she said. When she could not knock every crumb loose, she got some blue-striped, plastic straws and made her own unique bread-crumb nozzle.
She got the toaster clean but I'm getting worried. What's next? Spring cannot get here too soon.
Our front door is worn. The steel is dented, the paint is chipped and a kick plate is missing from the bottom. We need a new door. So, my wife and I went looking.
I was surprised to learn there is a door maker just on the edge of London. The company is located in the county to save on taxes. This is not uncommon.
I'm surprised at how much and how little companies like this know today. When I was a boy, I believe if one needed a door, you bought a door. Today the installers much prefer to install a whole package including the frame and sidelights.
If you'd like the weatherstripping repaired in the future, this request may overtax these installers talents. The company can make doors, steel doors, fiberglass doors or even an old, solid wood exterior door. But don't ask for too much maintenance or repair. Weird.
When I was a boy, big fences in residential neighborhoods were exceedingly rare. When I was a teen, the first backyard pools began being installed. If you saw a tall privacy fence, one immediately thought "pool."
Not today. Fences are now easy, quick and relatively inexpensive to erect. Some people like the look of the light, panels made from a plastic-like material. Others see the stone-wall look, or whatever pattern has been used, as a bit on the tacky side. Me? I like 'em.
The first time I went to Europe, I was surprised by all the big walls around residences. The look has not come to North America, at least not yet. But it may be slowing coming here.
It is now March 2nd. Come March 21st or thereabouts it will be spring. When one goes for a walk today, one see the memories of summers past and tries, often without success, to ignore the snow and envision the world green rather than white.
London Daily Photo is a blog associated with the City Daily Photo group. This is a global group of blogger posting an image every day from wherever it is that they live. As one would imagine, most of the images share views of the blogger's hometown. The first day of the month is theme day. Today the theme is reflections.
The garage is well cared for, it is painted, its roof doesn't leak and it is unused except for storing patio furniture. Most vehicles today are too large to be maneuvered around the bend in the driveway and eased into the small garage. And if the skillful driver got the car in, it might not all fit inside. Many cars are too long for the aging structure.
This Stratford home does not have an historical plaque. I think it needs one. I love the small roof extending out over the porch and front steps from above the front door. The semi-circular window surrounded by decorative shingles is a nice touch.
What I find most amazing about this heritage neighbourhood is the mix of early owners. Some of the original owners were wealthy and the homes show this if you are attentive to detail. But other homes were owned by factory floor workers. The detailing is restrained but by today's standards it is great.
More and more Stratford is a town where retirees are going to enjoy life in their senior years.
The ski hill has greeters positioned at the entrance to the facility. The number of lift tickets available is severely curtailed. Only two skiers are allowed on a chairlift seat. Four are only allowed when all four riders are family members living at the same residence.
With freezing rain expected overnight and a forecast high of seven degrees Saturday, forty-five in Fahrenheit, skiing season is going to be very short.
If you are thinking that's not London, that's Chicago. You're right. I'm posting this not just because it's a great image but as evidence of the amazing tonal range captured by today's smart phones, especially in the highlights.
Recently I was given three cameras. One was an old Leitz film camera. The other two were simple point and shoot digital cameras. Thanks to the ever-present smart phone, I discovered these cameras have no value. The bottom has fallen out of the used camera market, at least here in London.
The Ontario government has loosened the covid-19 lock-down restrictions. One result is that the local ski hill is finally in limited operation. My granddaughters had all their ski lessons canceled. There is simply not enough winter left. But, they did get three hours in on the weekend. They had three hours of semi-private ski lessons. The snowboarder shown was hitting the hill alone and appeared to be enjoying being back on the slopes.
The two Michaels, Michael Kovig and Michael Spavor, have been imprisoned in China for more than two years with no release in sight for either. Macleans, Canada's newsmagazine, reports:
They were detained by Chinese officials in December 2018, in implicit retaliation for Canada’s arrest nine days earlier of Meng Wanzhou, the chief financial officer of Chinese tech giant Huawei, and the two men have since been formally arrested and charged with espionage, which means a virtually certain guilty verdict.
Canadians are incensed but finding the action that will free the two men and bring them home to their families is proving elusive. Signs are appearing in windows calling for the freeing of the two Michaels.
The Grand Trunk Railway relocated their locomotive repair shop from Toronto to Stratford in 1870. In the early 1900s the repair shops were expanded and Charles Heppler moved to Stratford looking for work as a machinist.
In 1905, Charles married Ann Hansuld, a Stratford dressmaker. in Stratford. The couple bought a lot on Water Street and their future home was completed in September of 1907. Within two years the couple was looking for another place to live. They sold their large home to the former owner of the Queen's Inn and moved to another Stratford home.
Architecturally, the home is a good example of the style of home being constructed throughout Ontario at that time.
This home is one of my favourite homes to be found anywhere. It was finished in 1915. Immediately the builder, Charles Moore, 27, and his new bride Myrtle Harris, 22, moved in. The couple had postponed their wedding for a year and half while their home was completed.
The young couple lived in their Edwardian Classic home all their lives. They grew old together in that home. Myrtle passed away in 1983 at 90 and Charles was forced by his advancing age to move into a senior residence in 1990. He died three years later at 105 years of age.
Wouldn't you love to see the interior of this home. They rarely build homes with such elegance today. Agreed?
While visiting Strathroy I noticed the window treatment on the large windows on the rear wall of an older home. These windows were unique in number, in shape and even in the decoration surrounding each one. I thought this window treatment amazing.
I stopped, got a picture and then walked around to the front of the home. The front of the place was equally amazing and tomorrow I'll share the why with members of the group.
The rabbits around our home enjoy feasting on many of our decorative shrubs. The green holly with the bright red berries is a favourite with both birds and small animals, like rabbits.
The answer, I believe, is that the berries are the best food, even for cold and hungry rabbits. That said, the berries are not apparently dangerous when eaten but in small amounts by hungry, little animals like our local rabbits.
The rabbits around our home enjoy feasting on many of our decorative shrubs. The green holly with the bright red berries is a favourite with both birds and small animals, like rabbits.We worry that the red berries, while enticing to wildlife during the depths of a cold winter, may not be good for them. Are the berries toxic, we wonder.
The answer, I believe, is that the berries are the best food, even for cold and hungry rabbits. That said, the berries are not apparently dangerous when eaten but in small amounts by hungry, little animals like our local rabbits.
The berries seem to be well tolerated.
Part of the hill, so popular with children and even families, has been closed by the city. A father who operates a popular exercise gym in the city, was seriously injured while sledding on the hill with his family. Reportedly, there was a fairly dangerous jump created by neighbourhood kids and the gentleman struck the jump, became airborne and struck his head. It is not known if he was wearing a helmet. A fractured skull was his most serious injury but he suffered other injuries as well.
Most children sledding on the long slope gravitate to the area with smooth, deep snow and devoid of brush and trees.
London, like much of North America, is getting snow, lots of snow. And when snow comes, the snowplows are not far behind. (Oh heck, I confess, in truth the plows can be quite far behind. There have been times when two, even three days, have passed before a plow appeared to clear our suburban street. On occasion the plow never shows up at all. The city just leaves it to the sun to clear the street and court.)
But today I was happy to see a plow. I was also surprised to note that it was a Champion grader. This make of grader was made in Goderich a little more than an hour north of London. Sadly, it must be
reported that the plant, after more than a century of operation, was closed and the work moved to the southern States where workers make few demands.
Ontario, like many northern states, has lost a lot of manufacturing jobs to the southern States. I don't know the details but the move didn't seem to benefit the Champion company. After moving, it closed.
Visit the southwestern Ontario city of Stratford and you are sure to see signs protesting the locating of a Xinyi glass plant in the town made famous by the Stratford Festival.
CBC reports: A Stratford, Ont., citizens' group is demanding a review of glassmaker Xinyi Canada and its proposal to build a $400-million float glass factory in the community. The group is alleging the Chinese-owned company is a threat to national security.
The critics also claim the proposed factory would more than double the size of the community's carbon footprint. Anyone familiar with Stratford would understand the immensely damning quality of that argument.
The CBC goes on to report that in a letter sent to Minister Navdeep Bains it is claimed:
"The ownership of the company is basically a bit of a network of holding companies and sub-entities, almost all of which are registered in the Cayman Islands or Virgin Islands and many of the principals involved in those companies have overt links, either to the Chinese government or the Chinese Communist Party."
This snowman had a very faithful dog. How do I know it's faithful? Every time I drive by, the dog is at the snowman's side.
When big, old trees growing on front lawns in London die, they are not always chopped down -- at least, not completely. Sometimes, if the home owner can afford it, an artist is hired to carver the first ten feet or more of the tree trunk, stripped of bark, into a work of art. A huge, eye-catching wooden sculpture is the result. And it's a plus for the neighbourhood.
For many decades, while The London Free Press was owned and operated by Walter Blackburn, the newspaper was not involved in a strike. Blackburn kept unions at bay by forming his own in-house organization to look after employee concerns and complaints. Under Blackburn it worked.
Under Walter Blackburn the newspaper did not have a layoff, even when the economy was in recession. Blackburn said when times were tough the employee who could best weather a downturn in the economy was him, the newspaper owner.
If he laid off a pressman, that man's life would be in tatters. His family would suffer. Walter Blackburn, on the other hand, kept his chauffeur driven car, he and his wife wouldn't lose their home nor would his children drop out of university.
Once when a longtime employee had a death in the family, a death in England, the employee was given time off to attend the funeral and the money to cover the trans Atlantic flight home. Blackburn was a capitalist, a generous, caring capitalist.
After Walter Blackburn died things changed around the paper. Slowly at first and then the paper was sold to an expanding chain. And then that owner, a rather small fish, was gobbled up by a much bigger company, a much larger fish. Today the paper is but a small memory of the local media empire Walter Blackburn built during his lifetime.
My gut feeling is that if local newspapers had remained under the control of owners like Walter Blackburn and others of his ilk, daily newspapers would be much different today. Walter Blackburn was a visionary. This is not a word I would apply to the hedge fund owners of today.
The Second World War had ended and the economy was on the rebound. Suburbs were sprouting up all over the world but in North American, where land was ample and cheap, suburban living was a huge trend.
Many argued that living in the suburbs meant increased car ownership. Suburb dwellers argued that when they lived in the core they owned a car but had to park it on the street. In the suburbs, they said, they had the luxury of a carport. The luxury of a carport! Ah, those were different times. Today luxury doesn't kick in until one has a three car garage, at the minimum.
It was the nicest celery my wife had ever encountered. It was fresh, green, blemish-free; it was perfect. And when she checked to see where this amazingly perfect produce was from, she discovered it was from Spain.
I confess, this makes me uneasy and I cannot say exactly why. I have a gut reaction that this is not good for the earth. When I worked at a newspaper this feeling, this hunch, would not be enough for story. But, it would be enough to assign a reporter to investigate and determine whether or not there's a story here.
Is there? I think so.
For instance, when produce is shipped thousands of miles, it raises the possibility of introducing plant diseases to areas where the disease is as yet unknown. When I googled celery from Valencia, Spain, I learned a bacterial plant disease has been found in celery grown in Spain. This bacteria is found around the world. The question is whether or not the variety of the bacteria that is infecting Spanish celery is unique to Spain.
Another problem raised by attempting to grow produce in gigantic, factory farm fields is water for irrigation. Over-exploitation of water resources is an ever present threat.
I should have considered this last item, in my short list, as it is problem right here in Ontario, Canada. All too often huge farms producing relatively inexpensive food in vast amounts operate successfully thanks to poorly paid and poorly treated migrant workers. According to The Guardian, Spain may be among the worst offenders globally when it comes to the abuse of migrant workers.
A U.N. worker reported workers living in a migrant settlements in Spain are forced to live in conditions that rival the worst conditions anywhere in the world. The settlements are located kilometres away from water and all too often lack electricity and even adequate sanitary infrastructure.
I hope my celery was grown in a responsible manner. I pray it was but I don't know for sure.
Back in the '50s and '60s little bungalows were popular in Canada. The neighbourhood below the uplands in Byron was developed back then. I drove through there today and thought that this little place had aged well. It has the look of a home that has been showered with love.
Dr. Oetker was a German pharmacist who started an innovative food company some 130 years ago. Today, the Dr. Oetker group is still under family control as a global enterprise with a pizza factory right here in London, Ontario.
Like so many big firms with a global reach, traditional local firms may fall to the expanding German giant. It is almost 30 years since Dr. Oetker purchased the Canadian Shirriff food company with a line of products going back to 1880s.
My wife and I find the Dr.'s pizza generally overpriced and more than the crusts are thin. But when they go on sale, we buy a half dozen or so. We only get the cheese ones. And then we add our own toppings: sweet peppers, mushrooms, artichokes, hot peppers and dark, pitted olives.
Reportedly, Dr. Oetker is one of the best selling frozen pizza in the world. Hmmm. Surely, most folk are dressing these pizza up with a lot more toppings before serving. And I hope they are being bought on sale.
When I was a boy, suburban streets were state-of-the-art: no sidewalks accompanied by slower than the normal traffic speeds. Often the streets were curved to encourage drivers to slow down. If necessary lower than usual speed limits signs were posted.
Today, sidewalks are back in style. Folks living on the older, sidewalkless streets are finding that when their street is repaved sidewalks are installed. This is done whether the residents want the sidewalks or not. Often the resident do not.
My wife has been after me for days to shoot the morning shadows on the snow in our backyard as seen through the kitchen window. She insists this is different from my other two shots. And so, I begrudgingly submitted today's photo for consideration.
The big path immediately behind the suburban homes is usually deserted in the winter, certainly not busy, but this year it is one popular place as it leads directly to the best sledding run in the neighbourhood.
I saw this photo of downtown London taken possibly a century ago and I thought I'd share. It's sad to think that London had streetcars then but found it impossible to bring them back when it was attempted a few years back.
Dundas Street, the main drag, was a fine looking street at the time this image was made. Agreed?
A day or so later, I noticed the light had changed. It was stronger, brighter, more directional. I took another shot. Despite the subject being the same, it was a different picture.
This young lady was selling ice cream cones from a small stand in Fort Frances. No one should have as much fun flogging to tourists ice cream as this girl.
She gave out a generous scooping of ice cream accompanied by an even more generous helping of giggles and big smiles.
When the BBQ looks like this I always smile. Judy loves a BBQ. Me? Not so much. I see this and have an ah-hah moment. Ah-hah, BBQ season is over!
For these five boys, covid-19 was the last thing on their minds. Surviving a long slide down the Byron tobogganing hill took their total concentration. They managed to keep their sleds linked for more than half the distance down the long, somewhat steep slope.
Watching all these people doing dangerous stuff as they were sliding down the crowded slope, made me recall the movie On The Beach. Out-of-control covid-19 isn't exactly the same as nuclear war but both seem to encourage folk to take chances they previously wouldn't have taken.
Not quite enough folk to make a modern day Currier and Ives but it still recalls many paintings of people out enjoying winter.
My neighbourhood hill has never attracted so many folk and on a Tuesday no less. I'm sure it's not only the attraction of the hill but also the promise of a brief escape by families desperate to get out of the house. The province is in shutdown and cabin fever is beginning to take hold.
Up and down the long sloping hill one could see kids with toboggans, sleds, saucers, snowboards and even skis out enjoying the big, snow-covered hill in Byron, London's southwest neighbourhood.
I estimate that at a very minimum there were 150 kids and adults crowding the hill. It was the busiest I have seen that hill in twenty years. Why so much interest? My guess is covid-19. People are aching for something to do. Almost everything is closed. A simple, hill deep with fresh snow was simply irresistible.
With one of the three quad chairlifts sitting quiet in the background at the idled Boler Mountain ski hill, a large snowmaking machine continues to pump out snow in anticipation of a February opening.
If the Boler Mountain snowmaking crews have their way, the slopes will open with one incredibly thick base. The hill is clearly trying to position itself for having the most successful spring skiing season on record. I hope Mother Nature cooperates.
We must support our ski hill.
A year after the end of the Second World War, a group of mainly Londoners gathered at the top of Reservoir Hill to enjoy a new sport they had learned while serving overseas: downhill skiing.
By 1949 the group was large enough to incorporate as the London Ski Club, a not for profit organization. They found a good-sized hill near Byron, purchased it, and carved a variety of trails into the hill to accommodate skiiers from beginner to advanced.
Governed by a volunteer board of directors and operated by a combination of volunteers and paid employees, the annual surplus income was plowed back into the operation to maintain and expand the ski hill.
At first skiers used rope tows to get to the summit. These were replaced by T-bars in 1968 and 1970. Then in 2003 the T-bars were replaced by a Quad chair lift. Today there are three quad lifts, a moving carpet on the beginners' hill and another moving carpet serves the tubing area.
In the '60s Thames Valley Childrens’ Centre worked with volunteers from the London Ski Club to provide skiing opportunities for the blind and disabled. Today there 250 volunteer instructors serving over 120 disabled skiers each season.
The little hill just keeps expanding. It spends its limited money very wisely. Boler Mountain is a big plus for the city. Now, after some seventy some years of operation, covid-19 threatens the survival of the hill. I'm trying to start a movement to allow the ski operation to keep all the money paid for lessons that were not supplied because of the virus. The hill needs the money more than I do. It's loss was in my budget.
We must support our ski hill. (Originally I wrote "save" but that may overstate the situation.)
Boler Mountain is closed and not slated to open until, at the earliest, February 12th. Despite being closed, the snow-making team at the small hill is busy readying the slopes.
I'm retired and in my 70s. I am not rich. Yet, I put the cost of ski lessons for two of my granddaughters into my budget. It is money well spent. At least, it was until this year. This year, so far, neither girls has had even one lesson. The ski hill has been kept closed by the provincial government fighting covid-19.
How the little ski hill will survive this financial disaster has me concerned. I'm trying to convince those who are out money for prepaid services and activities to not request a refund. Everyone budgets for skiing. The money is not missed. The skiing is missed but not the money. No one will suffer if the money is not refunded but the ski hill will suffer if everyone demands a refund.
I say support our local ski hill. "Do not ask for a refund!"
