The Country Mice

Last week Homeboy’s Grade 9 Ultimate team had their final tournament of the season.

Yeah, they lost. So what? They always lose.

It’s a small school.

But they’ve got SPIRIT! And believe it or not, there’s a prize for that too.

Look at poor Liam up against the green behemoth. That, my friends, is why our team loses every game wins the spirit award.

Coach Jo. She used to be a member of the national Ultimate team. Now she coaches our pipsqueaks. The woman is a saint. A lean, muscled, intense and very happy saint.

These are the Grade 9s. Their last ever official game together. Wah!

No significance to their shirts. They found a cheap website where they could buy logo’d t-shirts for $5. Clever kids.

Classic.

And as they all lined up for end-of-season, goodbye-forever, love-ya-man, yee-haw-high-fives and smiled for the camera, some smartie took a picture of the mums and tots.

Tots.

Right.

More like, “Folks? It’s time for a little reality therapy.”

For all the doubters, with the inclusion of your author, here’s the evidence: He’s taller than me.

Indubitably, unquestionably, most certainly taller than me.

The top of the heads is one thing. But look at our chins — miles apart! I guess that means my head is still bigger (wha?!) . Small comfort.

And I think I’m looking kind of stooped as well.

Good grief.

You’ll note my lad is looking pretty darn happy about it all.

At least he still depends on me to drive!

Homeboy is off on a school field trip to la belle province this week.

While uncharacteristically tidy the house is empty without his artistic scribbles, his music, his lanky self.

The two accompanying teachers have posted a few pictures to the school’s Flickr account, ostensibly to assure parents their offspring are alive and well, but just as likely to let the school admin think there’s *some* learning going on. We’ll learn the truth this weekend when the gang touches down Saturday.

This one looks like Toronto airport. Homeboy was so excited about the thought of a couple of wasted hours there: “I’ll be able to show everyone around!”

Hmmm. Montréal métro, I guess. Don’t you love when small things continue to excite? Makes me so happy.

And now clearly in le vieux Quèbec. I spent two summers there, pummelling my brain into functional bilingualism, nothing more. Homeboy’s hat: Picked it up at the Monoprix in Aix-en-Province last year. Most remarkably he hasn’t lost it. I’m thinking he wore it for the French fashion flair.

Goofy kids loving their lives.

Good boy. Don’t lose that camera!

Somewhere along the way they met up with another school for a quick game of Ultimate.

I wonder if they’ve actually spoken any French this week.

And finally, they were supposed to bring clothes appropriate to going out for dinner. Evidently they planned this beforehand. Hilarious.

The funny thing is that only one of their fathers — guess whose — wears a suit to work.

Quelle bonne vacances!

Both the Tall One and the Princess were part of a recent school  production entitled ‘Star Crossed,’ a remake of the classic Romeo and Juliet.

Minor characters were given major roles, dear R&J did not end their lives in a crypt, and double entendres regarding tweeting, texting and public displays of affection made for a light-hearted romp through 15th century Verona.

Backstage, in fact the foyer of a chapel next to the school, the actors were terribly deep in concentration as they got into character.

These two were part of a ukelele-playing Greek chorus. The fellow on the left even has an amplified bass uke. Occasionally the ukeleles were employed as rifles and machine guns, while  the Greek chorus sang “Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do when they come for you” as the Montague and the Capulets were fighting.

This is a middle school, my friends. Middle. Cast adrift on the sea betwixt childhood and adulthood.

I guess we should be happy Romeo and Juliet did not return as zombies.

Lady Montague. Romeo’s mother. In real life, as lovely as her name — Aria.

Some are born to greatness, some have greatness thrust upon them. Some merely crave it. (That’s the boy from the dressing room, by the way.)

The princess here on the end, one of Romeo’s henchmen.

A remarkably happy group, minutes before going on stage for their final performance. Aren’t they wonderful? So much joy!

The play’s director, Christian McInnis, has a master’s degree in theatre and wrote and rewrote an remarkable script as well as rewriting the words of popular and recognizable songs.

As a result we heard a reworked “Me and Juliet, down by the school yard…” Try to get *that* one out of your head!

And after the final curtain call, Juliet and my own princess, fully charged.

Encore, you guys! Get going on the next one!

My tall one passed his fourteenth revolution around the sun last week. Or is it the sun that revolves around him?

Phew, no, not yet. That package of adolescent arrogance has not arrived on our doorstep yet. We are still fortunate to have him able to give us a smile in lieu of a sneer.

The Tall One has had quite a year. His feet have grown three sizes since September, his voice dropped a couple of octaves and he’s officially taller than his mother. He’s also been working on a year-long art project for school, has recently appropriated my camera for close-up photo-shoots with wee and tiny arachnids and is preparing for a school trip to Quebec this month.

Some of us are really going to miss him.

And others may enjoy being an only child for a week.

Now where did *that* come from?

It really would be good if they could just stop. Growing. Now.

So many harbingers of spring these days.

I saw a pair of robins near the front gate of our yard. One dark-breasted, one light — I’ll have to watch for signs of a nest.

A toad hopped across the asphalt drive two nights ago. The sky was too dark for identification but I felt so happy to think an amphibian still found the lands and forests clean enough for its survival. There are a few little ponds and creeks around our place — I wonder if there will be eggs?

The cherry blossoms, the forsythia, the daffodils, salmonberry blossoms, alder catkins… and…

… the skunk cabbage.

This lush and leafy vegetation is one of the first plants to bloom in the spring and grows in swamps and marshy areas. Given the abundance of rainfall the last number of months, small wonder they pop up, seemingly overnight, all over the island.

I think they’re kind of attractive, in fact. I like how large and prehistoric they look. I don’t detect much of an odour unless I’m the midst of a large number of them, but the scent is supposed to attract pollinators.

But alas, political correctness has even arrived in the land of the swamp as I understand the proper appellation for these productive plants is no longer skunk cabbage but swamp lantern.

Ever so much better.

All the little elves and gnomes, guided between the gnarled trees and weathers rocky outcrops, all the while holding aloft the blazing yellow blossom of the skunk cabbage swamp lantern.

Whatever it’s called I find I’m paying more attention this year.

It’s all beauty and it’s all so transient, whatever the moniker!