Running out of steam

I have been neglecting my blog lately. Yes I still post, but my posts seem uninspired and don't contain much of interest. Most of the rest of my life seems charging ahead at breakneck speed, so by the time evening comes, my energy levels are flagging and my mind's ability to even think of words, let alone type them is limited.

I spent an hour and a half wasting time waiting for someone after work today. I was to pick up something and there were delays, so I wandered around, wasting time til I could return and retrieve what I set out for originally.

I drove through newish subdivisions of very large houses set on handkerchiefs of lawns that looked out of place with perhaps 6 or 7 feet between houses. Ostentatiousness abounds in these estates and I find it amusing to see For Sale signs on a number of these large houses perhaps a year or so after people move in. Obviously, living as opposed to existing overcomes eventually and putting every last dime into housing doesn't get you anywhere.

Where has this craving for bigger come from? Do you remember living in houses where only one bathroom existed? And four people or more needed that one bathroom? Then basements. Why do people need basements? They say 'Oh, the kids will go down there and play.' No they won't. They want to be where you are and that isn't in the basement! So it sits finished, almost lined with dollar bills with no one venturing there unless its to rediscover what you put in boxes there originally or to avoid the rest of the family or relatives. Basements are horrible places, no matter what people do to make them more attractive. You're underground virtually! What use on earth does a basement have unless you want to store vegetables, as the original purpose likely was?

Flatrock 2007
Why Flatrock gets its name. The rocks are layered and stretch out into the sea from the land.

Even after not getting home til 7pm I guess there may be a couple of brain cells left to rant. Or not. The tree in the photo was a tuckamoor, the image taken this past weekend overlooking Middle Cove. A tuckamoor is a weatherbeaten conifer, black spruce here usually. They grow near the sea often, battered by wind and weather which rearrange their growth patterns and leave them clinging perilously to the edge of rocks, making you wonder how they manage to pull any sustenance out of the sparse soil and rock they are perched on. I wanted an image of such a tree for a drawing that I'm doing. I'm not sure if this will be the image. I need a few more and I couldn't get close enough to this tree without risking seeing the ocean really close up, so I'll keep looking for more easily accessible tuckamoors.