Ar-beauty by the sea

We have a very comfortable home, nestled in the midst of a mini-forest it seems. So I wonder sometimes, why is it we go away to take a holiday.

A water view is probably the only element we don't have at home, so maybe getting to see (and smell!) the ocean is part of why we travel.

The arbutus above (okay, madrona if you live in the US), leaning out over the sea, was a bit of a bonus we encountered on our way home.

The trip back was lengthy (eleven hours to go not a lot more than 100 km as the crow flies), as it involves taking ferries, and not all of them offer the luxury of making reservations in advance.

By the time we got to the last ferry (where we did have a reservation, but for a boat leaving in two hours), we took a break and found a walking trail that led us along the shore.

Tired though we were, the walk (and the trees) helped revive us for the last leg of the journey. In fact, this tree in particular, leaning out and reaching, seemed to offer a kind of comfort -- encouragement that we were getting nearer to our destination.

And today, though I don't have ocean or arbutus just outside, I'm happy to be home. Almost September, when surely it'll be time to go on to bigger things.

A poetic Earth Day experience

Yesterday, Earth Day, I celebrated by taking the ferry to Victoria and participating with other writers who were reading poems for the planet. It felt nicely 'Earth Day ish' seeing the Recycling bins on the boat and watching to see how careful people were about looking, then thinking, before tossing their items into the appropriate bins. A small step, but an important one. Awareness.

The event was organized by Victoria's Poet Laureate, Yvonne Blomer, who's approaching the end of her four-year term.

Among her accomplishments is her legacy project, the anthology, Refugium: Poems for the Pacific.

The reading was held in the city's Centennial Square, where life-sized statues of Orcas hold court, so our poems about the ocean fit right in.

Each of the poets read and spoke to the situation facing us. There was even a scientist in our midst, a man doing research at U Vic's Department of Oceanography. He reminded us of Carl Sagan calling our planet "a pale blue dot" and called the image itself the most elaborate-ever selfie.

This time, the Orcas in the square were the only ones I saw, as I didn't see any whales on the ferry rides. But I did get slightly meditative (for lack of a better word) watching the gulls floating on the sea and feeding along the tideline. There was something about the way the surface of the water was constantly moving and shifting that made me consider the absurdity of us thinking we can lay claim to a patch of earth -- even if it (luckily) doesn't shift and move the way water does.

We can't own the planet. If there's any owning to be done, the planet owns us, and we owe -- not only our existence -- but our fealty and respect to it.

If you didn't get to see it, I hope you will track down the Google Doodle from yesterday -- Jane Goodall's life and lessons. She's gone beyond awareness and respect, by living her life in service to the planet, its animals and the environment. May we all learn from her, and act accordingly.

Whales and ...

I don't usually write about books on this blog, especially not ones that have my work in them, but this book is somehow different.

Maybe it's just that so many things seem to be on the cusp of change -- politically, decisions are soon to be announced regarding both the Kinder Morgan pipeline proposal and plans for Site C. Anyone who knows or follows me understands that I don't support current plans for either of these going forward, and it tuns out I'm not alone in my thoughts about the Burnaby Mountain project. Today the City of Vancouver has put out a court challenge to review the approval process that took place. There are also several organized protests today, highlighting the dangers of the plan. It looks as though we'll have to wait a few more weeks to know any outcomes.

But back to the book, Refugium: it's an amazing collection of works that honour the Pacific Ocean. Edited by Yvonne Blomer, Victoria's Poet Laureate (that's her in the photo on the left), it brings together poems that celebrate, that praise, and that warn.

It seemed significant when I traveled to Victoria to be part of the launch on the island that, on both legs of my journey across the water the ferry's captain announced the presence of humpbacks nearby. On the trip over, though I dashed to a window, all I managed to see was the roiling water left by their deep dive. But when the same announcement was made on the way back, I got see part of a long, long body curling across the surface, and even got a glimpse of the tail, complete with its own distinctive white markings.

At last week's Vancouver launch one of the presenters, Stephen Collis, startled many of us by mentioning that humpback whales (that's the species pictured on the book's cover) have been known to come to the aid of other sea animals. He called them 'peacekeepers' -- that wonderful term that once, not so long ago, was applied to Canada and its military. And then, as if to back up that tidbit, the next morning's paper had a piece on the social awareness of whales.

With the crazed and crazy ways we (and some of our world's leaders) have been behaving, it's hard to be positive about outcomes for the future. So it's good to know that if we blow ourselves up, perhaps the whales, swimming deep in the oceans will remain. And even if those whales and dolphins don't have our opposable thumbs which have enabled us to create buildings and technologies, we'll be leaving the planet in 'good hands', probably better than the ones it's currently in.

Superb Owl, the annual quest

Yesterday, while many were hunkering down in front of the tv for some overhyped football game, I was walking the trails at nearby Boundary Bay. My quest, the visiting snowy owls, a species that fits my definition of superb.

Although I didn’t succeed in spotting the visiting owl (it turns out, I went to the wrong arm of the bay) I had a great walk and saw many other birds – ducks, gulls, herons and the always-magnificent-looking eagles. And, as is so often the case at the shoreline, the clouds were the ones putting on the best show of the day.

As for superb owl, there’s always next year. And who knows, maybe later this week I’ll make the time to head out that way again.

Same ocean...

...here as there -- meaning in Japan.

The same waves that we admire here, near Cannon Beach in Oregon (I think actually at the lookout near Gearheart), belong to the same Pacific Ocean that recently wreaked such havoc on Japan. How ironic that the name Pacific should mean peaceful.

Folks around here at least understand the potential power of the sea. Tsunami procedures and evacuation routes are posted on signs all over the place, like this one, right next to the local skate bowl.

As we made our way down the highway, I found myself tensing up a bit each time I saw that we were entering another 'tsunami' zone. At first, I'd thought the image of the little person near the big wave meant it was a great place for surfing. Looking more closely, I saw it was actually a tiny person trying to get away from that giant wave.

A good reminder about the power of the sea.

And a good time to move on.