Enduring

If she were alive, she'd be turning 128. A birthday no one (at least not yet) seems interested in observing. And yes, once again, I'm thinking of Amelia Earhart, born on this date in 1897. 

Despite so much time passing since her disappearance (back in 1937 when she would have been turning 40), her persona and the mysteries surrounding her life endure. 

Earlier this summer, The New Yorker (June 9, 2025 issue) published an article called "Turbulence". It's full of some fairly damning thoughts about Earhart's husband, George Putnam. It suggests that he pushed to do things she shouldn't have tried, specifically the ill-fated flight around the world. 

Earhart is still enduring in my own thoughts, partly because the mysterious theft of her statue still has no resolution (though it's assumed that it was stolen by metal thieves who found an unscrupulous dealer who melted it down), and partly because I always think of her on this, her birthday. 

The plane above is the 'twin' to the one she flew nearly all the way around the world. Called 'Muriel' (named after Amelia's sister) is now ensconced in the museum at the town's airfield. It's the only original 1935 Lockheed Electra still in existence. A special aircraft, to be sure. 

The Amelia Earhart Festival in Atchison, Kansas, has always been a memorable weekend of celebrations. My favourite part (besides meeting up with friends) has been the amazing fireworks. 

Celebrate! 

This little flag has been hanging on our front door for a few months now. It was made by a longtime friend who happens to be an amazing quilter. 

If you want to see just how intricate her work is, you might want to click on the photo to look closely at the patterned stitching inherent in the design. 

The whorls and complex stitching aren't produced by AI or any program on her sewing machine--they're all her devising. 

Looking at these complex patterns, I think they serve as a good metaphor for the fabric of our country--a mix of so many cultures and people. 

This year, with the multitude of threats coming from the south of us, it seems all the more important to take this day to think about not only who we are, but who we want to be. 

O Canada, our home on native land...

Celebrating the Earth

The miracles that nature delivers continue to amaze me, though you'd think after so many years on earth, I'd be getting accustomed to them. 

Still, looking at the photo above, it's hard to imagine that at least some of those flowers will sometime in August be ready-to-eat peaches. 

But miracles aside, it seems odd (a polite term) that today should be the day when our own "Mr Drill Baby Drill" should finally be releasing details of his party's platform, one that will no doubt include plans for more pipelines, more reliance on fossil fuels, more pretending that climate change isn't a critical issue. Am I the only one to notice the irony of these announcements on Earth Day? 

As I'm finding my own ways to observe this year's Earth Day, I'm happy to think of it as an event we should be celebrating every day!

Ten-four plus two

Sometimes, my brain gets distracted by internal number games. Probably that's one of the reasons I like playing Sudoku. 

But the other night as I was falling asleep, it struck me that the day's date, October 4th, 'translated' as 'ten-four,' a phrase I've heard on too many cop shows (think: the classic Highway Patrol for one).

So yesterday (10/5), I thought I'd start poking around to check out the meaning of ten-four. And sure enough, it not only translates as 'okay' or 'all right' it turned up as an answer to a clue in that day's New York Times Crossword, another of my almost-daily addictions. There it was, 31-across: "Understood" and indeed, the answer, strung across seven blank squares required filling in T-E-N-F-O-U-R. Which means that I got at least one of their brain-teaser clues answered correctly. 

I took that as confirmation that I needed to look up what ten-four really meant, and found (who knew) that there's a whole list of 'ten-' codes with today's date (10/6) meaning as 'busy' (which it was). 

A further trip down the rabbit hole of the Internet informed me that October 4th is indeed ten-four day, and a special day for saluting radio operators, though I'm not sure how many of those there are anymore. 

I figured before I tried figuring out codes for the whole month, this would be a good way to end the week--especially where this is the long weekend when we celebrate Thanksgiving. I know that I have much to be thankful for, in particular, the bounty of this season's harvest. I certainly hope that you have much to be grateful for too. And to that, for now, I can only say 'ten-four'. 

Gettin' ready...

I'm one of those people who take a long time getting ready to do things -- almost anything. And Christmas is one of those long-to-prep celebrations. 

First place to start is summertime, picking berries. That's when the jams that will be gifts start getting made. 

Probably all year long, I enjoy trolling second-hand stores. It seems I always find something or other that goes into my stash of potential gifts for Christmas time (though birthday gifts often arrive this way too). 

One of the most fun parts of my big preparations is the making of the cards. This is a tradition, probably ten years on now, where my friend and I sit across from each other at the table (piled with our crafty supplies) and create our one-of-a-kind greeting cards. 

Yes, they've all been mailed by now. I can only hope they've all arrived at their destinations. 

From here, it's just a matter of continuing with the baking and other cooking (Swedish meatballs tonight, Cornish hens tomorrow). 

Whatever you do to celebrate, however you prepare for the day, I send my best wishes for a way to spend time with people you care about -- and yes, before too many more days go by -- some time to sit back and do nothing. 

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. 

Yep!

Snow happens. And I guess I was right about thinking that change was about to happen.

This eerily blue image is how the world looked from the front door just after 8 this morning -- in other words, only a few minutes after sunrise, which just keeps getting later and later. 

This is the time of year that makes me wonder whether the people who seem to want Daylight Saving Time to be in effect forever whether they've thought about what mornings will be like. Dark. The sun won't come up until 9. Ugh. Hibernation well become the next new norm. 

This also happens to be the day when many observe the Feast of St Nicholas. When I was a kid, and even brattier than I am now, I convinced our mother that we deserved candies and other small stocking-type treats on this date. I suspect the reason she relented was solely because the day was named after a saint. Those kinds of arguments worked more than once on my behalf. Yep. Bratty could have been my middle name. 

As for this morning's snow, it was very wet and heavy and dragged down part of the bamboo 'trees' that provide such nice privacy from our neighbour. Here's hoping that a 'splint' job will help it to stand tall again. 

Share a poem today

Sometimes it seems that there's a designated 'Day' for just about everything. 

Yesterday was (and it came as news to me) the International Day of Happiness. That seems like a day we could use more often than once a year. 

Today is another such observance. In 1999 the United Nations declared this date World Poetry Day. Some years, a specific theme is declared. In 2017 the theme was 'Freedom'. 

This year, while there's no specific theme, the preservation of languages plays a role. 

Since I don't write much in anything but English, the best I can offer for a poem today is a small piece particular to this challenging year we've been enduring. 

Haiku in isolated times

sitting at the table

so many days together

we remain in love

Tomorrow

Tomorrow is International Women's Day, a day when I'll be celebrating with a reading from my book about Amelia Earhart, Flightpaths. 

Her accomplishments as an aviator would be enough to make her a worthy mentor, but I admire her as well for her courage, especially in the many ways she stood up for and spoke out for the rights of women.  

Even though she was speaking about opportunities (or rather, the lack thereof) for women in the field of aviation, this statement of hers from 1934, sadly remains somewhat relevant today: "If and when you knock at the door, it might be well to bring an ax along; you may have to chop your way through." [from Susan Butler's excellent book, East to the Dawn]

The photo above is one of the monuments to her in Atchison, Kansas, the town where she was born. They like to celebrate their most famous citizen by having a festival in her honour every summer (every summer except 2020, of course; fingers crossed for this July). 

This weekend's edition of the Globe and Mail offered an interesting idea for a way to celebrate Women's Day. The article made the suggestion to read a book by a woman author. While that doesn't sound too radical a thought, the article reminded me that men don't always read books by women writers. 

This is something I've wondered about before, as women and girls certainly aren't afraid to read the works of men. Is this just another of those double-standards we continue to live with?

Tomorrow -- and by that, I don't mean only tomorrow, March 8th -- but all the tomorrows on into the years when things can only continue (we hope) to improve for women around the world. Onward!

The start of a lucky year?

Happy New Year! Or, as many of us have learned to say (perhaps mistakenly), "Gung Hay Fat  Choy!"

While that greeting may no longer be quite the right thing to say, the ideas behind the greetings at Lunar New Year remain. Those sentiments range through all sorts of good wishes -- for good health, prosperity, success in ventures undertaken (especially studies), and peace.  

The lucky red packets traditionally hold money. The ones in the photo above contain chocolate in the shape of coins. As far as I'm concerned, not a terrible substitute. 

Here in the Lower Mainland area of British Columbia, this day is generally observed with parades and fireworks and plenty of public celebrating. Naturally, with the pandemic in full bloom, those events have been cancelled, replaced with several virtual observances. Not the same, but at least safe. 

The plan here is to have an array of dim sum treats for supper. Most of those are purchased, pre-made frozen treats that don't require much more than a ride in the steamer. But because this year is unique, we've taken extra steps and are preparing (actually, we started yesterday) special beef tendon and even chicken feet. 

The Year of the Ox (the Metal Ox, no less) sounds, at least to my Western ears, much easier to welcome than last year's Year of the Rat (which, not too surprisingly, links in my mind to 'plague').

Do you know which animal rules the year you were born? Finding out might (or might not) help you learn just how lucky you will be this year. 

Christmas Redux

We must love Christmas more than most people do, as today we're observing it again. Why? Because today is Orthodox Christmas. 

The day started with a big breakfast, one that's lasted us long enough that we can wait 'til supper for a Christmas dinner.

Presents aren't a part of this celebration. In fact, tomorrow we'll be packing away any gifts still sitting under the tree (not an evergreen, a decorated hibiscus). That's when we'll also be taking down the lights and other decorations. 

The amaryllis, now on its second branch of blossoms, can stay for a while. Its beauty helps dispel the mostly rainy days we've had of late and seems to offer the promise of spring. 

Midsummer Bee-yoo-tee

Perhaps it's just part of being a contrarian, but I can't help wondering why today (or maybe tomorrow) isn't the day called 'midsummer' as in Midsummer Night's Dream. After all, August 4th is pretty much midway between solstice and equinox -- in other words, the middle of summer, i.e., midsummer. 

The midsummer festival is apparently a very big thing in many places, especially in Sweden, with much in the way of eating and drinking and even doing a sort of 'froggy' dance as part of their celebrations. 

This year, as part of my trying to learn more about this observance (as truly, it has puzzled me a long time, at least as far back as Woody Allen's A Midsummer Night's Sex Comedy), I poked around and even found a novel The Hidden Beach. 

The book is set in Sweden, and the festivities feature prominently. Unfortunately, I only made it about halfway through, as the sub-plot proved to be overly romantic for me. Maybe I gave up too soon, but really, an awful lot of other books are always calling to me. 

As for me, I think I will do my own celebrating tonight. The moon is nearly full, and we're just about exactly halfway along the path from summer solstice to the arrival of autumn on September 22nd. Until then, I'll keep picking blackberries while the bees buzz their work-songs in my ear, and be glad that we're all still able to spend so much time outside. 

A new way to celebrate

Although the first Monday in September is the day both Canadians and Americans observe Labour Day, many countries around the world celebrate Workers' Day on May 1st.

I'm sticking with the September observance, especially because a friend of mine (and a longtime union worker, no less) has come up with a brilliant new way to mark the date.

She's suggested that it be Jammies Day -- a day when those of us who get to stay home should spend it lolling about (knowing us, probably reading) in our pyjamas.

I'm just having a hard time deciding which of my two favourite nighties it should be: bunnies or kitties. But if that's the most difficult task ahead of me for tomorrow, I'm certainly not going to complain.

Here's to honouring workers of all stripes, especially those brave souls who fought for such basic rights as an eight-hour day or, praise be, the concept of the weekend. Yesss!

Some big birthday!

For all of the theories that exist about Amelia Earhart, the one thing I am sure of is that she's no longer alive. If she were, she'd be celebrating a very big birthday today -- her 122nd.

As mentioned in my last post, I spent the weekend attending the Amelia Earhart Festival in Atchison, Kansas, the town where she was born in an upstairs bedroom in the home of her grandparents.

The town makes a very big deal about celebrating their most famous citizen. And I suspect Earhart is one of the main drivers of the town's tourism industry.

Several plaques and statues of her are placed around town -- this one is at the International Forest of Friendship, a site that recognizes many of aviation's pioneers and current heroes. Even our own Julie Payette and Marc Garneau have commemorative stones there. I'm hoping that next time I go back, I'll find one for Chris Hadfield too.

But now, I'll just say Cheers! to the woman whose life continues to inspire people everywhere (including me).

Shoulda known better...

This photo of snowdrops in a planter box is one I took just over a week ago, on Saturday, Groundhog Day. Because I couldn't see my shadow cast across the blooms, I fell prey to believing that not seeing it meant that winter was just about over -- that we wouldn't have to wait another six weeks for spring breezes to be upon us.

But oh, silly me, look at what today looks like for those same snowy snow drops in the planter. The poor things are buried past their necks. Even the straggly geranium appears to have given up.

Yesterday we celebrated a dear friend's birthday -- with a nice supper and even a homemade cheesecake. Looking outside this morning, it looked like a yard full of birthday cakes, and all of them risen higher than yesterday's celebratory dessert.

I guess this must be what I get for trying to think like a groundhog.

I've always loved pigs

That's the start of a quote about pigs by an author I love, Maurice Sendak. It's there because today marks the lunar new year, this year beginning another Year of the Pig, to which I admit unabashedly, I'm proud to be one. According to some legends, pig is twelfth (not a problem for me, as that's my favourite number) because he overslept. Yep, that'd be me, all right.

Today's photo looks more like something I might have posted on the old "What's Fer Supper" blog, the site where I wrote about what we ate, every day for the year of 2009. Every once in a while, I still add something or other, like this post I did for Lunar New Year in 2015.


The past few days our produce stores, most of which carry an array of specialty Asian items, have been extra busy as families prepare for the feasts they will no doubt have this evening. This brunch of ours was much easier to make than it probably looks, as it's a mishmash of foods from our freezer and pantry. I certainly can't claim any skill with making Asian dumplings from scratch.

Depending upon what sign you might be, the Year of the Pig is supposed to be one that sees dramatic change. With an election here in Canada later this year, that's a strong possibility. But in case you're curious what changes might be in store for you, here's a site you can click on to find out.

Ruled by the moon

So many people, so many different places on Earth, observe a calendar based on the moon. The Asian calendar, with its welcome this weekend to the Year of the Dog, is one of those.

We celebrated in our own small way by cooking up some delicious (store-bought, frozen) siu mai (shumai) to go with the rest of our decidedly western supper (spaghetti -- though, wait a minute, weren't noodles invented in China?). If you look carefully, you'll see that there's a traditional red envelope in view, though ours didn't contain money, but a couple of lottery tickets.

It wasn't long ago that I learned a bit about a First Nations tradition called Hoobiyee, a celebration that marks the new year according to the moon. It was also linked to the return of the oolichan to the river, an important event marked by the Nisga'a.

I wasn't able to see the moon last time it was 'new' (February 15th), but I'm hoping its shape was more of an upturned crescent than a downturned one. My reason goes back to one of the concepts I learned about Hoobiyee: the first new moon after the new year indicates what kind of harvests there will be. An upturned one (cup-like) indicates bounty, while a downturned one, the opposite. Especially where I've just pruned our berry bushes, I am already looking for a good harvest later this summer.

And after our yummy sampling last night, I suspect, before the week is out, I am going to want to go to a restaurant for a celebratory feast of more dim sum.

What puts the 'festive' in Festival?

For a festival to truly live up to the meaning of the word, it must celebrate a thing or an event. The festival I've just been to takes place every year and the 'thing' it celebrates is a person, Amelia Earhart.

The Amelia Earhart Festival has been a tradition in Atchison, Kansas since 1997, and every summer it seems to only grow bigger and more exciting. This year's festival certainly bore that out, with the town of her birth attracting too many visitors for me to be able to count, though I know that at least one came from as far away as Spain -- and another from Ukraine -- to attend. Truly, a 'round-the-world' celebration!

Although it doesn't officially start until Friday, tradition dictates that the celebrating starts with Thursday evening's fundraiser, an old-fashioned ice cream social. There's an assortment of homemade pies and cakes, plenty of ice cream (at least four flavours to choose from), colourful sprinkles to scatter over top.

Dramatic performances, author readings, a speakers' symposium --  even a carnival of rides in the downtown area -- mean there's something for everyone. Flight aficianados had plenty to be excited about this year, as the airport in Atchison is now home to the last remaining Lockheed Electra 10-E, twin to the plane Earhart flew on her last flight. "Muriel" (named after Amelia's sister) is the gorgeous machine pictured above.

And another of this year's highlights had to be a slide presentation by Ann Pellegreno, who successfully followed Earhart's round-the-world circuit in 1967 -- fifty years ago. History alive!

Plenty of visitors come to the Birthplace Museum, where they took plenty of photos of the many articles there that belonged to Amelia and her family.

Culmination of the weekend is always a spectacular display of fireworks set to music. I got to sit in a rocking chair for this, surrounded by friends old and new. What a time!

Pot is on the table

At last! It was 1969 that the LeDain Commission was called -- an official government inquiry into the non-medical use of marijuana.

Over the course of the early 1970s their findings were reported, and -- surprise, surprise -- even back then, their conclusions were that it was time for marijuana laws to change.

Finally, with Thursday's Cannabis Act, Canada has begun to move forward towards legalization.

Sure, there are still kinks to work out. I plan to follow as this process unfolds. I'm just hoping there isn't any back-pedaling from the government. Considering how they've backed out of other promises they've made, I'm going to pay close attention.

One thing I am sure of is that next week's 4/20 events will truly have cause to be celebrations!

Celebrating and Un-

Today is Orthodox Christmas, so it seemed like a good excuse for a bit more celebrating. I'd heard that the British call it 'Little Christmas,' but when I checked, it turns out that was yesterday, and that it sounds to be more of an Irish tradition than an English one. Today is also a friend's birthday so it was a good excuse to visit with her and have a celebratory cup of tea.

But along with celebrating went a bit of 'un-celebrating' as today was the day for packing up the ornaments and taking the wreaths down from the doors. Un-Christmasy, I suppose, but in my own homely way, practical.

Still, perhaps today's best celebrating was taking in a matinee at the local bijou, a place that's actually called the Rialto. This name proved to be more than simply nostalgically traditional, as the cinema featured within the film we saw had its own Rialto a scene which got an appreciative chuckle from the audience.

And yes, the celebratory fantasy was LaLa Land, a fitting title if ever there was one.

At first, I was hesitant, especially with the over-the-top (literally) opening scene (though it did present a nice alternative to road rage), but I soon fell under its charm (or maybe Ryan Gosling's).

Oh, it's corny, to be sure, with numbers reminiscent of Donald O'Connor and Debbie Reynolds. But it's also a lot more than that. There's a story, an actual story, a story that even has layers.

The music, much of it terrific jazz -- especially piano, the instrument I'm the biggest sucker for -- may well be the real star of the film, though Ryan Gosling's piano playing is certainly in the running.

The film's been praised like crazy and has also received nearly as many pans. I'm on the praise side and can't help but think that -- like so many things -- it's all about the timing.

Maybe this little movie, with its clever (even if not-quite Cole-Porterish) lyrics and peppy dancing is a dose of exactly what we need right now.

As 2016 was winding down, it seemed nearly every source was reporting doom and gloom, telling us what a dark time it is. Well, maybe it doesn't have to be. I'm all for un-dark.