Shadowy

The story of the groundhog has never quite made sense to me. As I understand it, if he sees his shadow, he runs back into his hole in the ground to wait out another six weeks of winter. But if he doesn't see it, he reckons that winter has run its course. 

I've always thought that if it's sunny outside, it might well mean that spring has arrived early. But no, legend tells us the opposite. Maybe his shadow frightens him into going back inside. 

Although I'm not sure whether groundhogs even live here, marmots do. But that's a different critter--still, it seems to be the one we rely upon to predict the end of winter. 

I've been thinking about shadows, how they grow or shrink according to the angle of the light, and of course, how they follow us, tagging along faithfully, as long as there's light to be had. Robert Louis Stevenson probably said this best in his poem, "My Shadow". Whether we're looking back or ahead, that shadow is bound to be near, just as mine is in the photo above. 

No flakes, just drops

Snowdrops, rather than snowflakes--that's what we've been getting this January. While that's hardly something to complain about, it does give me pause. Why is it we haven't had snow this winter?

There are plenty of people who choose to deny climate change, but this season's mild temps certainly seem to assert that something is not quite right with the weather these days. Locally, we've barely hit freezing/frost levels all month. And that's not generally the case for the month of January. 

I still have a fuchsia 'wintering over' out front. My hellebore never stopped producing flowers. Even a feeble geranium is hanging in, without benefit of cover of any sort. 

Bravest of all, I suppose is a persistent lettuce out back, almost aching to make its way into a salad. 

For now, I can only hope, with so many bulbs up and branches budding, that there won't be a suprise cold snap in February that threatens this season's fruit crops. 

In the meantime, I'll just have to go for another walk today, and enjoy these days, so many of which already feel like spring. 

Seeking balance

Today is the Autumnal Equinox. A day for balance. When, if we're at the Equator, night and day share the light in equal measure. The first day when the Zodiac is ruled by Libra, the seeker of justice. 

When we can only hope for some kind of balance where the good and the sane prevail in this world of ours that currently seems so dreadfully out of balance. 

To my surprise (and in a good way for a change), even though I'm not much of a Royalist, I was delighted to find this article about King Charles and the balance he's been able to find in Romania. It seemed an apt ray of hope on this day of a new season. 

Springtime in Canada

...or at least here on the Lower Mainland of the West Coast. 

While I admit that the tulips are store-bought (though raised on Vancouver Island), the forsythia brancches are ones I brought in from outside. 

Today marks the Vernal Equinox, when things are in a kind of balance, as the sun is above the equator, making the hours of daylight and darkness equal--the day we refer to as the first official day of spring. 

After this winter, spring is more than welcome. Snow. Cold. Disruptive news. Balance sounds like something that's very badly needed. 

The Big Countdowns

When I was little (and same for when my kids were small) we'd count the number of sleeps until Christmas. 

These days I'm more inclined to count the days until Solstice, when the darkness finally begins to recede. With sunsets these days happening around 4, the days can feel mighty short. 

This year will see Solstice occur on the 'traditional' date for it, the 21st of December which means, I suppose by Christmas, sunset will occur a wee bit later, though I'm sure we won't notice much until sometime early in the new year. By mid-month in January, the sun will be rising before 8, and not setting until closer to 5. 

Which means, I suppose, we'll be feeling the return of light, though I'm not sure, following events scheduled for January 20th that things will feel much brighter. 

A natural bouquet

I guess I'm just a sucker for nature. Sometimes its beauty seems almost too perfect to be real. That's the case with this stand of natural grasses that grow in the shade of our back yard. 

If ever there were a natural bouquet that says 'autumn' in my mind, it would be this batch of grass. 

And I think, even though we haven't yet experienced the equinox (but coming soon, it will arrive here on the west coast on September 22nd at 5:43 a.m.) that autumn is upon us. The batch of mushrooms that I picked the other day serve as one more sign convincing me. 

To all things, yes, there is a season. And in every season there is its own special beauty. 

A harbinger of things to come

Coming out of my local library this afternoon, the world sounded different. There was a kind of rustling, along with a hint of even a different scent. For once, the scent wasn't smoke from a fire up country, it was, I decided, the scent of autumn.

Where it's not even mid-August, it seems early for this, but maybe I'm some kind of optimist who still doesn't expect any such change until closer to September. Nonetheless, early autumn certainly seemed to be in the air. 

Then, walking to my car, I stopped to chat with a woman who felt the same change I did. So at least it was comforting in a way to know I wasn't alone in my feelings. 

And sure enough, leaves beneath the trees only confirmed these early autumn thoughts. 

I'm counting on more summer ahead, but can't pretend I'm not mindful that the season has already begun its steady shift. 

By the way, I couldn't help but wonder about the word that came to mind earlier: harbinger. As with so many of the words in our language, it's an oldie and has some interesting history. 

Springin' along

Some, I'm sure, would swear that seeing a robin serves as the first sign of spring. I'm pretty sure my mother was in that camp. 

Others may contend that it's the job of the crocus to make this announcement.

As for me, it's seeing a thicket of snowdrops that tells me spring is on its way. 

With the hard cold (for here) that we've had, the possibility of a new season feels very welcome. And with yesterday's observance of the Lunar New Year, the timing seems just right. Let there be dragons (so long as they're gentle, kind ones). 

Now, if only it would warm up a little more so it would also feel more as if spring is truly
near at hand. 

Return of the light

For a few minutes yesterday the sun managed to cut through the clouds just long enough to make a small splash of light on the ocean at White Rock. I felt lucky to catch it, as that little spot of brightness didn't last for long.

And now today is when we observe the Solstice, the day the sun 'returns' bringing us more hours of light, the joy of what we think of as longer days. 

In truth, twenty-four hours is all that any day gets, but oh, that precious light--what a difference it can make to how we live and how we overall feel--I suppose a natural kind of solar power. 

Sunset here today was 4:16 pm and won't move even a minute forward until Saturday. Still, it's good to know we're on our way to longer days and more of that beautiful light. 

Nearing the speed of light

All right. I admit to an exaggeration, but...I can't believe how this month has flown past. 

Sure, there's been plenty going on to keep me busy--from Word Vancouver to last weekend's BC and Yukon Book Awards Ceremony. 

Quite a few of the Word events are still available online, and many are worth tracking down. 

As for the book awards, the ceremony isn't online, but at least the results are posted. 

And yes, quite a bit of the month was spent looking after that kitty I wrote about last time. 

Technically, the season changed officially last weekend. And technically, this morning was the official time of the full moon. Still, I'm sure it will be just as big and beautiful tonight as it was yesterday evening. 

Today was another of the cleaning-up-the-yard-for-autumn days, with a substantial amount of debris from the blackberry hedge making it into the green bin for next week's collection. Both hibiscus trees are now indoors, and the outdoor cushions have been stored away, but there's plenty more to do to get things set for the winter. Still, it'll happen. It always does. All in good time, and definitely slower than the speed of light. 

Springin' into summer

It's hard to tell, but summer arrived this morning--officially, as today marks Solstice. The temp is still coolish, but not quite as "June-uaryish" as it's been the last while. So maybe it will even feel like summer soon.

The birds who'd built their nest inside the little lantern have even headed off for summery skies. We'd worried that the babies might not be able to fly high enough to get out of the enclosure, but presto--they did it!

We could see that the parents were getting tired of all the feeding (and yes, when it came to feeding time, there were two parent-birds, the father was no deadbeat dad at all), as towards the end they'd just sit at the top of the lantern and drop the bits of food down into the nestlings. 

Best news of all is that they did a lovely job of spring-cleaning the nest. 

Must admit I'm kind of hoping they'll come back next year. 

A balancing act

Today's the day the Earth does its twice-a-year balancing act. Earlier this afternoon, we experienced the vernal equinox, that special event that marks (for those of us in the Northern hemisphere) the beginning of spring.  

But that isn't the only balance I'm thinking about. For one thing, a number of banks seem a little shaky these days -- even ones in Switzerland, traditionally the most secure (and quiet) banks in the world. It wasn't long ago, though I can't put my finger on where (maybe in a film I saw?) but I heard a line that really resonated: "It suddenly struck them; they couldn't eat money." Which leads me to thoughts about the balance we need when we think about 'developing' farm lands for industrial use. Huh?!

Today also marks the day when China's Xi and Vladimir Putin are meeting in Moscow. It's hard for me to think that much good will come of this. Super-power meets super-power, but it looks more like power-over-others than any kind of balance. 

And the one that faces all of us, today's report from the UN on just how urgently we all need to act to save ourselves from the worst effects of climate change. 

It seems just about the only balance is the one the planet marked today, achieving that perfect angle where day and night are equal. 

As for all those other kinds of balance I keep hoping for, I guess my local graffiti artists say it best: Dream. 

Sometimes...

...the groundhog gets it wrong. At least that's what I'm hoping must have happened last week on the 2nd when the critter must have seen his shadow in all that sunshine. According to lore, if he sees his shadow, winter is supposed to linger for another six weeks. But I'm saying NO to that. 

Small testament to spring though it may seem, I take heart from seeing the bulbs pushing their bright green heads up through the soil. And I love how they are so forgiving of my bad habits as a gardener, leaving all that stringy debris from last season still there. 

Soon I expect it will be warm enough for me to want to get out there with a clipper and some digging tools, and maybe then it will be prettied up enough for those anticipated flowers to burst into my bloom. 

Spiders rule

 

Now that the big freeze has retreated, the spiders are back, though I'm not sure what they'll catch. I haven't seen a lot of small insects around. 

Maybe that big web will catch the last of this too-long-lingering flu bug we've had. At least it hasn't been covid.

Looking forward to the new year, with blessings and happy times for all!

Too much beauty?

Is such a thing even possible?

I've been looking at photos from my recent visit to Ontario, and it's nearly been nearly impossible to choose an image to use here. Sooo much gorgeous scenery, magnified by being there during the most colourful season. 

The idea of beauty and what it constitutes -- how does one define it? I think of the old chestnut, "I don't know much about art, but I know what I like." Even without knowing formal rules or schools of art, each of us knows what stirs our heart. 

And heart-wise, mine was broken a bit this morning by a few words I heard in an interview. The person said that art is no longer an offering in US high schools, as school boards have deemed such classes as too expensive. 

Speaking for myself (and many other of my peers in oddity, I am sure), I would not have been able to endure high school if it hadn't been for the acceptance of my art teacher and the mental (and probably spiritual) break that class provided. The companionship of other oddballs meant a lot too. 

So today's blog offers two small samples of things I find beautiful -- the brilliant colours of the changing leaves, and the gathering of birds as they prepare for the long trip to southern climes. To me, breathtaking. I can only hope that you also enjoy the beauty of these kinds of 'natural' art. 

A new angle of the sun

The changing of the seasons always has a number of chores -- this season, it's primarily food-based ones. 

There's been plenty of clean-up of blackberry vines and spent veggie beds. Even the travelling rose had a number of its trailing stems clipped, oddly without a single rose hip this year (a first). The usual load of plums -- twelve bags for sharing with neighbours and friends -- was greatly diminished this year, with only a measly twelve plums. Not a single bag full, only a small bowl. Nonetheless, they were delicious as ever, maybe more so where there were so few. 

Not long ago I gathered a big bag full of windfall apples. This is a luxury I may no longer be able to indulge in, as it looks as though my friend's property will be 'developed' -- an ironic term, as the land will certainly be far less productive once it's paved. 

So far I've managed to freeze enough apples to make a couple of pies during winter. I've also made a few of what I call 'hand pies' (individual 'pies' made with store-bought puff pastry), several containers of applesauce and I've even managed to dry a few, thanks to our little fireplace units where all I have to do is slice the apples and let them rest on top of the pilot-only heat source. 

The equinox is also when I clean and change the filters in the Brita unit -- an easy way to keep track of when I do some of these maintenance chores. 

Technically autumn arrives at 6:03 Pacific Time, so suddenly I'm finding myself in a brand-new season. At least I reckon I'm pretty much ready. 

Tide's out!

A beach is always interesting, and always in its own way. 

This is a beach south of Vancouver, those long tides always a sign of coming-soon Solstice. Two weeks today. 

First quarter of the June moon this morning. When it's full on the 14th, it's supposed to mean the first strawberries will be sweet. 

Sun shining again today, but still, that gusty breeze has something almost autumny about it. Towels didn't seem to mind though, flapping on the line, and oh, I so love the scent they bring into the house! 

With written records indicating celebratory observances from as long ago as the 13th century, a lot of people seem to think the world looks a little brighter as they mull the thought sumer is icumen in.

Spring-ish

Although the official equinox was yesterday, it's today that I'm observing the first full day of spring here on the west coast. 

I'm also noting that today is World Poetry Day, an observance that I suppose most of the world manages to miss. 

This year, as part of that observance (it's hard to call much of anything a 'celebration' during these dark days), there's a YouTube channel that's featuring the work of quite a few poets who've been writing in support of the brave people of Ukraine. 

It's been a sad time here, with two darling friends dying last week -- one day after the other. Neither of them came as a big surprise, as both had major health issues which meant their time was running low, but sad nonetheless, as both are friends I will greatly miss. 

So maybe that's why my otherwise bright-eyed daffodil appears to be a little droopier than might be expected. 

I can only trust that brighter days are coming soon -- not only here, but also for the rest of the world. 

Wintry salad

No doubt you've heard of Urban Farming, where people plant vegies in their yard rather than keeping the mostly pointless notion of lawn -- you can't eat grass. There's even an offshoot of this movement -- called, not unexpectedly, Suburban Farming. 

We don't go as far as using either of these labels, and we haven't considered adding chickens or goats to the mix, but we do grow some of our own food when the weather agrees. 

Our most bountiful crops are blackberries and quince, along with beans and salady greens. But we also harvest raspberries and plums, and even took delight this year in 12 tree-grown peaches. Yum!

However, this December, my brilliant partner has taken the notion of home-grown one step further: you might have to call it Indoor Farming. Obviously, our little set-up isn't anything like the vertical farming models that are easy to find on the Internet, nor is it hydroponic, as our plants grow in soil. 

But truly, whether it's a few leafy greens added to a sandwich, or just a sample torn off as I walk by 'their' window, I take delight in being able to eat food that we've grown, often when it's only seconds 'off the vine', all the while looking outside on weather that's clearly December, and mighty wintry. 

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.