THE MAGNIFICENT VISTAS OF THE MIGHTY CRATER LAKE

View of Mt. Shasta along the way.
Please click on photo above to see the complete set of pictures. 

An early start for the day. Leaving the quaint town of Jacksonville, near Medford, Oregon. Picturesque countryside before taking on one sweeping curve that deserved another through the mountains leading to Crater Lake. Stopping at The Rogue Gorge - watching milky white waters gushing through 'The Chasm' down the mountain was a sight to behold.

One of natural wonders of the world, the Crater Lake is a caldera in the western United States, located in south-central Oregon. It lies about 128 kilometres driving distance, north by north-west of Medford city. It is the main feature of Crater Lake National Park and is famous for its deep blue color and water clarity.

 The lake partly fills a nearly 2,148-foot (655 m)-deep caldera that is believed to have been formed around 7,700 years ago by the collapse of the volcano Mount Mazama.

There are no rivers flowing into or out of the lake. It is the deepest in the United States, and one of the deepest in the world.

Crater Lake is also known for the "Old Man of the Lake", a full-sized tree which is now a stump that has apparently been bobbing vertically in the lake for over a century. The low temperature of the water has slowed the decomposition of the wood, hence the longevity of the bobbing tree.

A winding road runs almost right on the rim and around the entire crater giving the viewer a panoramic and breathtaking views of both the lake and the mountains surrounding it. 

Two islands are in Crater Lake; Wizard Island formed from a cinder cone that erupted after Crater Lake began to fill with water, and the smaller Phantom Ship has seven different trees living on it.

I was lucky for having been able to be at a vantage point to capture a boat cruise around the 'phantom ship' in the lake at the right and very moment we stopped at a vista location.

Thanks to Shawn for stopping at all the vista points and Denise for having created this extraordinary adventure for us, where the magnificent views were an excellent treat for me and my camera. 

ENOUGH TREES FOR ME TO LAST A LIFETIME

A DAY OUT

TO

KLAMATH TREES OF MYSTERY
California, USA.

A Tale of Tall Trees & Other Stories

ENOUGH TREES FOR ME TO LAST A LIFETIME

With an early morning head start from Brookings, Oregon, with cautious, safe driving by Shawn, and navigation/coordination by Denise, brought us into the Klamath Trees of Mystery - a huge nature's collection of giant trees - that lies along the scenic Pacific coastline in the northernmost part of California, about 80 kilometres (50 miles) south of Brookings in Oregon. The size of the redwood trees here is simply astonishing - some of the mightiest, graceful, weirdest, eerie trees that Edna and I will probably remember for the rest of our lives.

Tall tales as tall as the trees!

The legend of Paul Bunyan is a giant lumberjack in American folklore. His exploits revolve around the tall tales of his superhuman labors, and he is customarily accompanied by Babe the Blue Ox. The character originated in the oral tradition of North American loggers, and was later popularized by freelance writer William B. Laughead (1882–1958) in a 1916 promotional pamphlet for the Red River Lumber Company. He has been the subject of various literary compositions, musical pieces, commercial works, and theatrical productions. His likeness is displayed in several statues across North America.

There is a gift store there at the attraction which is a model for other tourist attractions. Bucking the trend of souvenir standardization, it features many customized mementos, like gold-trimmed shot glasses commemorating Trees of Mystery's 50th anniversary. According to a historic display, the original Bunyan, constructed in 1946, lasted only one year. Paul's head, made of paper mache, melted in the winter rains and caved in.

As we drove through the Redwood Forest the 1944 song 'This land is your land was briefly brought back to life by Shawn singing a few bars while negotiating a sharp bend through the woods. This song was even popular in Bombay and Goa in the 1960s, when several artists of the new folk movement, including Bob Dylan, Pete Seeger, The Kingston Trio, Trini Lopez, and a few others all recorded their own versions of this evergreen song as green as the trees themselves. Peter, Paul and Mary recorded the song in 1962 for their Moving album. The Seekers recorded the song for their 1965 album 'A World of Our Own'.' 

A token fee gets one started on a tour to delve into an enchanting, interesting and mind-boggling forest with paths that lead you into a world of massive trees of varied shapes to look up to (pun intended)! The path leading up to the top of the mountain eventually culminates into taking one of three options: 1. Skytrain to the extreme height to the apex, or (2) a walk back for the faint-hearted, or (3) a cozy golf-cart to take you back to the starting point.

With sincere thanks to my other 3 companions for their patience in putting up with yours sincerely trudging along behind or stopping at times to take a new breath of fresh and invigorating mountain air.

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Mysterious trees are familiar sites in the USA, and these trees are no exception. However, America's only Trees Of Mystery billed as such are in California, at the northern end of that state's Redwood Exploitation Zone, and prove that you need not be a magician to turn wood into gold.

Giant statues of Paul Bunyan and Babe the blue ox guard the entrance of Trees of Mystery, as a mid-morning crowd pours off the coast highway to embrace freaky Redwood hoo-ha. Paul's right hand gives a continual sluggish wave as his breast-pocket loudspeaker greets all who enter in cheery lumberjack fashion. "Hiya, kids. Hi, folks."

Blue Babe
Most of Paul's banter involves describing the clothes that people at his feet are wearing, so they don't think he's a recording. "Hello, there...you're wearing a blue sweatshirt! And the lady next to you is wearing a green jacket!" He'll also answer your size questions (Paul is 49 ft. tall, has a 24 ft. long ax, and 10 ft. high boots).

A forest trail winds its way past Paul, up into a giant, hollow, redwood log, and then back to the actual mystery trees, the ones shaped like pretzels and DNA strandoids. "Entirely by the forces of nature," you are reminded. Recorded messages recite each mystery.

Baby Bunyan.
The trail takes you to the Cathedral Tree, a cluster of six redwoods growing out of a single root in a tight semicircle. Pompous music plays over hidden loudspeakers while Nelson Eddy croons Albert Joyce Kilmer's poem, "Trees."

"I think that I shall never seeeeee,
a po-em lovely as a treeeeeee...."

Signs inform appropriately awestruck visitors that countless weddings have been performed at this most beautiful of redwood spots.

The last section of the Trees Of Mystery recounts the exploits of tree-biter Bunyan, told through audiotaped "tall tales" and redwood chainsaw carvings. One can only wonder what Joyce Kilmer would've thought of it.

BROOKINGS, OREGON, USA - A VACATION TO REMEMBER

Trip to Brookings, Oregon, USA

http://tonferns.blogspot.ca/2014/07/blog-post_31.html

One of the most exciting, adventurous and wonderful holidays of my life. These pictures are dedicated to all the beautiful, loving people of Medford, Jacksonville and Ashland - who made our vacation so enjoyable, a big thank you to our kind hosts Lori and Dave Duval - the newly married couple, thank you for your hospitality, to Bruce, Michele, Rick, for your wit and sense of humour. To Shawn : thank you for your excellent, cool driving, and to our daughter Denise for the excellent planning and for generally looking after us. A special thank you to Shawn Evans for stopping at various points for me to photograph the magnificent and breath-taking vistas.

Kanvllea Kiteak Roddtai Darant - A Goan Folk Song

GOA OF THE 1950's

For a few years when I was very young, I lived in Goa with my mother while my father worked in Bombay. I remember my Mum often hummed this beautiful tune under her breath while going about the house doing her daily chores. Brings a tear to my eye.

English translation of the folk song: 

Kanvllea kiteak roddtai darant

(Translated by Joel D’Souza)

O Crow! Why do you caw at the door?

Someone may shoot you,

If you’ve brought tidings from my husband, Crow dear,

You better fly away.

The crow came in the morning,

He began cawing on the drumstick tree (moringa tree);

While the crow was still cawing

My beloved husband arrived home.

My husband reached home

He kissed me lovingly,

And our heart’s desire

Got quenched eventually.

Yamaha Electone B35n

Baby Returns after 10 years

       Purchased circa 1980. Unavoidable circumstances led to selling it to a good-hearted friend in 2004. By chance met this gentleman again after such a long time. He smiled and said: "Hey Tony I have good news for you. I know how sad you were to part with it, but now I would love to give it back to you free". He probably saw the glee on my face when I did not hesitate to say: "Yes, thank you".

       In the words of my wife, who was also touched by this gentleman's kind gesture, had the following to quote: 

       "When you long & miss the things you treasure and which were meant to be together find their way back; they may take a few detours, but they're never lost. Happy to see you smiling."

An Evening with my Grandson

Ari fell asleep in the car on our way to the Park. We parked under the shade of a tree and let him sleep for about 45 minutes. My wife later put Ari on her lap because his head was beginning to slump over his chest!

Everything was peaceful...until he woke up.

What happened later...the pictures will tell.

It was fun to spend time with our grandson Ari. He's such a joy to be with. Trying to catch up with him running around was quite a feat for me, making me realize that I am getting old after all.

Ari was kicking the ball well in keeping with the present fever and spirit of the World Cup, and some folks passing by were watching him keenly.

He was quite fascinated by the geese waddling around the park. Ari boldly ran right through a gaggle of them unflinched, far ahead of us towards the play area.

As soon as he found himself comfortably perched on the swing, Ari was saying 'push', and insisted that he wanted to be pushed even higher, in keeping up with a small girl swinging on the side next to him!

Then suddenly the skies turned grey as evening fell. It started to drizzle signalling that it was time for us to return home.

REMEMBERING MY FATHER & THE TOY SOLDIER ON FATHER'S DAY

MY FATHER & THE TOY SOLDIER.

Long after my father passed away, I often reminisced about the good days when I was young. Later, through my own uncertainties and obstacles, I found strength in the thought of the wooden toy soldier my father had once given me, motionless yet hardy, strong, protective and inspiring. Every time when I had played with the toy soldier, I did not fail to keep it back on the shelf.

Then, as I grew up, I realized that I had looked at that toy soldier more than I had played with it, perhaps in an unconscious effort to preserve it, and in turn replace the absence of my father. There were many times when I would take it down from the shelf, dust it and put it back in its apparent rightful place as always. This toy was my favourite and in retrospect appeared that I had that toy in my possession for the longest time. 

But unlike that idle wooden toy soldier on the shelf, my own dad was a real life soldier. He worked hard in his life, cared, loved and did the best that he possibly could for his family. He stood tall against all odds and provided me and all those around him with good advice, hope and inspiration, successfully setting an example to march on through my own.

I still miss my father. He was a good man. Many among us surely must miss their fathers. Happy Father's Day.

To read the full story, please click on the following link:

http://tonferns.blogspot.ca/2009/06/fathers-day.html

St. Anthony of Padua

Queen of Peace

Queen of Peace

Croation Catholic Church & Centre,

Brampton

Felicio the Altar Boy

SURSUM CORDA

(LIFT UP YOUR HEARTS)

Felicio the Altar Boy

I had risen early that morning and my mother and I had briskly walked to the Chapel in order to wear the vestments, prepare and get ready for the Mass on time.

I had managed to pour just the right amount of wine into the chalice, rang the bell at the precise time for the ‘Sanctus’ and successfully carried the missal along with the stand from one side of the altar to the other. I had also steadily poured water over the priest’s fingers as he washed them, and there had been no sound of any cruets clashing together. My co-server and I had also bowed and genuflected in tandem, as we alternatively stood and knelt on the polished white marble floor of our village Chapel of Our Lady of Assumption in Vancio Vaddo, Guirim, Bardez, Goa.

My biggest fear and concern was not to trip while climbing or getting down the steps to the altar. I was grateful that the senior server had trained me well, and that Padre Capelão (the Rev. Chaplain) had been very kind and understanding in teaching me the right pronunciation of the Latin words.

My great moment was yet to come and that would be when people would line up to receive Holy Communion. I accompanied the priest as he proceeded to the front pews as the village folks knelt to receive. Just then I noticed that my mother was standing in line in the centre aisle. Soon, I thought, she would be kneeling for her turn.

This was my moment of great and significant pride and joy as I held the shining gold-plated communion serving paten under my mother’s chin. I felt that this was my highest privilege and honour. I thought that perhaps my mother’s wish was granted that I had learned to serve the Holy Mass in Latin, and officially become an ‘ajudante’ (Latin) or server. With a quick glance I was then surprised to see my relatives and neighbours in the queue as well. I could see that there were hints of sustained smiles on their faces. Perhaps, I thought, my mother must have requested them to attend the Mass in order to give me big surprise so that they could receive Holy Communion served by the "new altar boy Tony (a.k.a. Felicio) always in a blue shirt" from the village of Cumbiem Morod in Guirim, Bardez, Goa.

After the Mass, we had all walked home together. It had been a wonderful morning and the beginning of a great day indeed for me and for all the members of my family. My mother had prepared a special breakfast as well to commemorate the special day in my life.

The Latin Mass that I had first served in, continued for another few more years until 1969. It was then replaced by a New Order of the Mass when the priest faced the people. In a way, the new procedure must have been good. This way the priest could constantly keep an eye on his flock during the entire service, as opposed to the days of the Latin Mass when the Padre/Capelão along with his flock, the sacristan, the altar boys and the singers in the choir, had all stood facing in one direction – that is, towards the altar – lifting up their hearts! And saying: Sursum corda! (Latin) ~ Lift up your hearts!

Tony Felix (aka Felicio) Fernandes
Guirim, Cumbiem Morod,
Bardez, Goa, India.

1. The Mass of Paul VI is a form of Mass in the Catholic Church, promulgated by Pope Paul VI in 1969 after the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965). It is now the ordinary or normal form of the Roman Rite Mass.

Mural on a Pylon - Don River Valley - Toronto

Evergreen Brick Works - Toronto - Canada

Caledonian Sunset

Southfields Village, Caledon

Spring Blooms at the Distillery Historic District - Toronto

SPRING BLOOMS AT THE DISTILLERY HISTORIC DISTRICT - TORONTO

SPRING IS COMING TO TOWN

Caledon, Ontario

BLUE SKIES OF SPRING, CALEDON

Caledon, Ontario

Happy Mother's Day

The following poem is not my own,

but it is one of my favourite poems.

Its author is unknown.

SOMEBODY’S MOTHER

The woman was old, and ragged and gray,

And bent with the chill of the winter’s day.

The street was wet with the recent snow,

And the woman’s feet were aged and slow.

She stood at the crossing and waited long

Alone, uncared for, amid the throng,

Of human beings who passed her by,

Who heeded not the glance of her anxious eye.

Down the street with laughter and shout,

Glad in the freedom of ‘school let out,’

Came the boys like a flock of sheep,

Hailing the snow piled white and deep.

Past the woman so old and gray.

Hastened the children on the their way,

Nor offered a helping hand to her,

So meek, so timid, afraid to stir,

Lest the carriage wheels or the horses feet

Should crowd her down in the slippery street.

At last came one of the merry troop,

The gayest laddie of all the group;

He paused beside her and whispered low,

“I’ll help you across if you wish to go.”

Her aged hand on his strong young arm

She placed, and so, without hurt or harm,

He guided her trembling feet along,

Proud that his own were firm and strong.

Then back again to his friends he went,

His young hear happy and well content.

“She’s somebody’s mother, boys, you know,

For all she’s aged and poor and slow;

“And I hope some fellow will lend a hand 

To help my mother, you understand,

If ever she’s poor, and old, and gray,

When her own dear boy is far away.”

And “somebody’s mother” bowed low her head,

In her that night, and the prayer she said,

Was, “God be kind to the noble boy,

Who is somebody’s son and pride and joy”.

Farms of Caledon, Ontario

Caledon, Ontario

COME WHAT MAY

Come What May

by Vicki Leandros

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DTAmtEIYkzY

'Come What May' is the English version of Vicky Leandros’

monster hit 'Après Toi.' (“After You”).

'Après Toi' won the Euro-Vision song contest in 1972.

It was very popular song with the expatriate community in the U.A.E.