a peek inside the fishbowl

We found a crow around the corner from where we live. Actually, Piper found it. We were walking and she spotted it, and put on all the stops as she is wont to do occasionally. I turned to look at what was holding her up (it’s usually an irresistible scent of some kind) but it was a black lump in the grass. Upon closer inspection, that black lump turned out to be a crow, galumping awkwardly across someone’s front lawn, unable to fly.

We decided that the crow needed our help. I hesitated (let’s be honest, I didn’t really want to touch it) and we attempted the animal rescue thing when the girls were small so I had a small feeling it wasn’t going to go well.

The three of us found a cardboard box at home, a big towel, and a pair of two work gloves (which I later discovered were two lefties) and set out to perform what would surely be a very admirable rescue.

I was steeling myself for the moment I had to pick the thing up. Would it attack me?

We were marching down our residential street when we heard a car pull up behind us. It was Mark, thankgod, returning from a golf game.

“YOU’RE JUST IN TIME,” I said. “You are going to save a crow.” I said, opening the door and practically shoving the kids inside.

We found the bird hunkered down beside a tree. Mark picked him up (yay!) and put him in the box, and covered it with the big beach towel. We were going to leave him out on the veranda but it was actually pretty chilly out there, so we brought him into the downstairs bathroom and put a bit of dry dog food inside the box with him along with a dish of water. And then we thought about what to do with him. The Wild Bird Centre was closed for the night. I was pretty sure they have a drop box but this seemed a little cruel to do to Kenwood (who, by now, had a name, although it started out as Philippe) so we just hoped he would be warm and comfortable in his banana box. Our trip to the WBCC would have to wait.

Piper woke me up at 4:00 the next morning, which is very unusual for her. I took her out and then went back to bed. But I couldn’t sleep knowing there was a crow in the bathroom, possibly dead. So I mustered up the courage to go check on him myself. I lifted up the corner of the towel and found two black blinking eyes – very much alive – staring back at me. Good news.

In the morning Mark helped us get Kenwood back in the box. The little guy was pretty weak. There’d be no poking anyone’s eyes out here:

We gathered our things and drove out to the WBCC. The lady there took Kenwood right away and put him in an incubator. The process only took a few minutes. We told her everything we knew and filled out a short form and received a number so we could call and check up on him. (Which we haven’t done yet. Maybe later today.) We left a small donation and went on our merry way. Then I realized we parked in the wrong spot.

As a sidebar, I would like to mention that the Wild Bird Care Centre has over 3,500 birds a year pass through its doors. They do a lot of fantastic work with very little. And they need donations; cash and Canadian Tire money, but also many other things including dog food and bird seed and paper towels. Just so you know.

So that’s the story of Kenwood! I hope he’s doing ok now. And I think if I had to pick up a crow by myself I could do it now. I think.

Let’s get something out of the way here. Mark doesn’t like my tomato sauce. He really only likes his mom’s spaghetti sauce recipe. And I get that: (a) the man doesn’t really even like tomatoes and (b) it his mom’s recipe (admittedly) is a really good one with lots of meat.

But I like making my own too. I get to use up a whole bunch of fresh, locally-grown tomatoes, which are in steady supply at the market right now. And I also control the salt and everything that goes into it. As a bonus, I’v figured out that making your own tomato sauce is not actually that hard to do. It’d be pretty easy to cooks some up on a Sunday afternoon and set it aside in the fridge for your next night’s dinner and freeze the rest for another time.

Andrea’s fresh tomato spaghetti sauce recipe

You will need:

• 4 or 5 fresh tomatoes
• a can of no-salt diced tomatoes (I threw it in because I wanted enough to feed the four of us and have leftovers the next day)
• olive oil, about 1TB
• one medium onion, diced
• two cloves of garlic, minced
• Italian seasoning
• a tiny pinch of cinnamon

Begin with the fresh field tomatoes. It doesn’t matter if they’re a little beaten up (this is not a beauty contest!), but they do need to be nice and ripe and have a good tomato smell.

First, you will want to take the skins off. Take a sharp knife and slice a big X along the bottom of each one, just through the skin.

Boil them in a pot of boiling water for a few minutes until the skins start to wrinkle and peel off. Take them out of the water with a large slotted spoon. They’ll look like they’ve been hit with the ugly stick. Tomatoes from Planet Wrinkle!

While you’re waiting for them to cool, chop up the onion. I used a bit of red onion I had leftover, but anything is fine:

… mince the garlic, and sautee it along with the onion in a bit of olive oil. It’ll need about five or six minutes to soften. While that’s going on, core and chop the tomatoes into chunks:

Throw them into the pot along with the can of tomatoes:

Add your spices. In my recent batch I used 1TB of Italian spice mix, a pinch of salt, a bit of pepper, and a pinch of cinnamon (don’t overdo the cinnamon). Cinnamon, as a seasoning, is used quite a bit in Spanish and Moroccan cuisine. I like a bit of it in spaghetti sauce because if adds some je ne sais quoi, but it’s totally optional. You might want to add oregano and more basil, but it’s a personal thing. Tomatoes are cheap this time of year, so experiment!

Simmer until the sauce has reached a desirable consistency. Serve hot, over your pasta of choice, along with a healthy sprinkle of Parmesan cheese and freshly ground pepper. The freshness of this meal will knock you over, and you’ll love it even more knowing that it didn’t come out of a jar.

p.s. Can you believe I forgot to take a photo of the final dish? I guess I was too hungry. :)

Mark knows me well. For my 39th birthday he suggested we bring the family on The Hardest Hike Ever. Although that’s not how he presented it. He introduced the idea in a much gentler fashion: “Do you remember the hike we went on in the Gatineaus, the one with the waterfall?”

DO I REMEMBER??! Ooof.

We hadn’t been dating very long. Mark suggested we go on this great hike that he knew of, and so we set out for Lusk Falls Trail in Gatineau (not to be confused with the trail to Lusk Caves). We didn’t bring any food or water with us and I had no idea what lay ahead. It was – without a doubt – one of the hardest trails I’ve ever encountered. Mark and I went partway up, and then, defeated, went back down.

Also worth noting, I was so hot and thirsty that I was beginning to think that a weeklong bout of the runs was a fair trade for a deep drink from the waterfall.

This was not good date material.

But, of course, I didn’t fall on my belly with my face in the water like a dying horse. That would have been uncool. We ventured back down the hill and eventually re-hydrated our weary bodies. Amazingly, our relationship survived!

So.

It was time to revisit that blasted hill, but with kids in tow. As a birthday present! (Ha ha!)

Our first stop was the Art-is-in bakery at the City Centre for picnic food. I can’t begin to tell you how many treats there are to be found here. It was very difficult to exercise restraint. We bought flaky croissants, chocolatines and a cinnamon twist to eat in the car, as well as four sandwiches (made on their famous bread) to be eaten later. I chose a tandoori chicken sandwich. It was, how shall I say, perfecto:

Mark had some kind of steak sandwich (which he proclaimed to be excellent) and the girls had ham and cheese (which was a bit too saucy for their liking but was ok).

This part of the Gatineau Hills (it’s actually the Eardly Escarpment) is one of the most beautiful places in the Valley. Honesttogod. It is one of the region’s most fragile and interesting ecosystems.

This is what it looked like as we approached the trail by car:

There’s a lovely picnic area at the base of the trail. (Note the use of the word BASE here. In case you missed it, you should interpret this to mean that there’s a bit of a climb ahead of you.)

It’s so restful here. Doesn’t it make your eyeballs breathe a sigh of relief? Say it with me now, AHHHHH.

Heed take my advice and don’t unpack your picnic yet. Save it for the first stop. The way up is not for sissies, but trust me, you will get there soon enough.

(Confession: those two previous photos were staged. Ha.)

Before you know it, you get to the first notable point along the trail. The waterfall. I should note that I’m using the term “waterfall” rather loosely here. This time of year it’s really just a dried out trickle; a humble tear.

This is where we ate our fabulous lunch. After that we had a decision to make. Should we go back to the car, or keep going up towards the lookout and then, possibly, the fire tower? Distance-wise the hike isn’t that long. It’s only about 2.8k, which is a cinch. What isn’t a cinch is the, ahem, uphill side of things, along a trail that looks a lot like this.

Here’s a tip, bring twice as much water as you think you’ll need, because you will need it. (I think 2L per person should do the trick. More if you’re staying longer.)

The secret is to take lots of breaks along the way:

We got to talking to a fellow on the way up the Lusk Trail. He was hiking alone. We exchanged pleasantries, and he told us that he’d tried to hike up to the tower ten times and but had never made it. He was determined to do it today, come hell or high water. It was admirable, but I have to confess that I looked for him along the way. I was a little worried. The trail is very well marked, but still.

We made it to the Pontiac lookout. It’s true what they say, that you enjoy a good view much more when you feel like you’ve earned it:

In my books, good hikes come with a payoff. And the view of the valley below was one of them:

Here’s another view.

Eventually the trail made its way back to the falls, but this time there were larger pools of water to explore so we hung around for awhile:

We could have stayed there for hours. The water was full of frogs (which only adds to the enjoyment factor for two young girls and their critter-loving father). Thank goodness for small mercies:

Me: I was content to stay behind the camera. :)

We met up with our lone hiker as we approached the fire tower. We asked him if he made it, and he told us he had, and that he took a rock from the top as a memento. He attributed his success to a 40lb weight loss.  We congratulated him on his accomplishment and pushed on.

Finally – after much sweating and some grumbling and some “I don’t think I can make it” – we made it to the end. The old fire tower! We were disappointed to learn that you can’t climb it anymore.

I didn’t think we’d make it, but we did. Victory was ours! Now all we had to go was go back down. Did I mention that this trail has an elevation of about 900 ft?

Happily, it was a lot faster doing down. It was nice to have gravity working with us instead of against us for a change. The trail loops a little and ends up back in Frogville, which we were happy about.

When we reached the parking lot we compared sore spots and congratulated ourselves on a job well done. It was a great birthday gift indeed.

Interested in visiting? It could be your Greatest Summer Challenge! More info and directions can be found here.