photography and the horse fly nation
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-seven years and one million words
I'd forgotten how much fun horse flies can be. They combine the bite and speed of deer flies with the persistence of house flies, and add a solid weight into the mix. There's nothing like them. Friggin' things.
I made my donation to their nation while stumbling around in some forgotten corner of the Haliburton area trying to photograph a bit of a "waterfall". The term 'waterfall', I've found, is like the term 'mountain'. No matter how flat a given district is, the locals will find something to apply the label to. In the Niagara area, for instance, the escarpment is called a mountain. In central Germany a collection of hills that has been cultivated and farmed for a millennium are called mountains. In the Haliburton area, a relatively innocuous rapids is called a waterfall.
I managed to replace the tubes and tires on Tracey's bike yesterday, and oiled up the chain and tested the gear transitions. I hadn't done the tires changes before, and I'm very glad that I thought to ask the fellow in the bike shop how it's done. It took no more than ten minutes to do both, and I expect that I'll be able to repair my own with relative ease when and if the time comes that I get a flat while commuting.
Hopefully she'll be able to pedal the thing into town if she needs to.
In the afternoon we went and splashed around in the lake up where the docks are. The water is surprisingly warm. I'm told it's been as hot and sunny up there as it has in Toronto. While I find the locals's assertion that it's also been as humid and smoggy a bit dubious, I'm happy for pleasant swimming temperatures. They're not always a given in this country.
Tonight we had steaks and tandoori chicken skewers from the organic butcher's in our neighbourhood in Toronto, and corn on the cob (prepared in the fire pit) and asparagus and salad. It was delicious and a real feast.