Puzzling

Yesterday's meeting of the Vancouver Metro Board was supposedly the day for them to make a decision regarding the fate of the Hazelmere Valley and the area around the Little Campbell River. But one of the directors (a Surrey City Councillor) made a last-minute motion that would pause the matter. Despite some grumbling from others on the Board, the motion squeaked past by three votes. 

I'm not sure what to do next in terms of actions to continue advocating on behalf of protecting the area. 

So that's why I'm puzzled.

But I suppose that state is somewhat appropriate, as today--strange though it may seem--is National Puzzle Day! 

It sure seems as though there's a day for just about everything, and in light of today's observance, I'm declaring it Clear-Off-the-Table Day, so I can start working on a puzzle I've been delaying for too long. It will be a nice diversion from the research and reading I've been doing, as I try to learn all I can about aquifers and groundwater and protecting the last vestiges of natural, green environment. 

I take heart though, because even before I start dealing with organizing that tumbled pile of pieces on the table, I can see quite a few hopeful spots of green.  

Countdown...

...to decision time for the future of the Hazelmere Valley, an area the City of Surrey has casually renamed South Campbell Heights. 

Here I'd thought renaming was exclusively the domain of settlers who determined that English names were better than the names given to places by the Indigenous peoples who'd lived here for centuries. 

The current renaming practice is more a matter of hiding what's actually at stake -- in this case, a small forest, some farmland, a river, and an aquifer. 

If you haven't already seen it, here's a video that offers a few reasons for protecting the area, reasons that are only becoming more critical by the day as we move inexorably toward climate disaster.

Cheery thoughts for a Monday, eh. Friday morning will be the time of reckoning, when Metro Vancouver Regional Board determines whether they will move the Urban Containment Boundary, a protective element that is part of their Metro 2040 vision for the region. 

Here's hoping that sanity (and thoughts for the future) prevail. 

Travels missed, travels found

Today is just about the midpoint of what was supposed to be a holiday on the beach in Cuba. But no, that had to be cancelled, owing to the O-word.  

To console myself, I tried to pretend -- even went so far as to turn on a sunlamp to 'tan' my winter-white, dry-skin legs. 

Best consolation though was where I usually find it: in one of the books I'd planned to take along. 

The title, The Body on the Beach, sounds as though it might be a bit grisly as holiday reading, but no, that wasn't the case. For one thing, the beach in question was about as far from Varadero as one could get while still being on the Atlantic Ocean: Harbour Grace, Newfoundland. 

As it happens, that's a town I've visited more than once, as it played into the research I did for Flightpaths, my book about Amelia Earhart. But this 'visit' is during the 1920s, the era when Model T cars were still relatively new. 

It's hard to pigeon-hole this novel as any single genre, as it qualifies not only as detective story with questions that range at first from who was it that died, to a series of increasing challenges regarding the details of that death (how and why being foremost, though there's definitely a whodunnit aspect as well). 

But that isn't all it is, as it's also a love story -- about the love a man has for a woman from his past as well as a growing romance in his here-and-now. 

All of this is complicated (in a good way) by the many historical details author Patrick J. Collins has layered into the book. The biggest of these, and the one that causes the most tension is Prohibition. Being a port town, one that engages in shipping both to and from the US (remember, at this time, Newfoundland was not yet part of Canada, but its own independent dominion), Harbour Grace's location makes it convenient for would-be smugglers. 

Even though now and then I'd get a little lost in the crowd of so many characters, the book kept me engaged enough to not fret too much about a missed opportunity for travel. In fact, it allowed me some of the best travels of all, those travels we take via the mind. 

Merry Christmas, reboot

Today's the day that many people around the world celebrate Orthodox Christmas. We're among them, though we do so in a smaller way than on December 25th. 

It's easy enough to get in the mood, especially with so much of our local world looking like a Christmas card. The photo is one I took while we were out for a walk in our neighbourhood. 

Often, it turns out that the last week of December will be cold here. But this year, that cold spell has extended well into the new year, and managed to break a number of temperature (and snow depth) records along the way. 

I'm mostly grateful that today's Christmas celebration will be much lower key than that other one. No one's coming over to open gifts (there aren't any), and there won't be a turkey in the oven, not even a fresh batch of butter tarts. Though on second thought, I may have to rethink that last bit. 

Here's to a brighter year!

No parties for us this year. No decorations, no fire in the chiminea. Not even bottle rockets here. 

Some of the neighbours put on an exciting fireworks display, so at least there was a great excuse to holler and hoot a few times. 

As for us, it was mostly a matter of a few sparklers tucked into the snow pile. Nonetheless, a bright light to shine for a few precious minutes. Hoping that they point toward a much brighter year.