Leapin' lizards!

Although I couldn't find a photo of a lizard in my files, I did find one of this beautiful metal iguana, a piece of sculpture that lives in a friend's rock garden--just the kind of spot a lizard would be sure to enjoy. And as it turns out, an iguana is at least a variety of lizard. Whew! 

The Leapin' Lizards quote is attributed to Annie, the little orphan girl of cartoon fame. And it turns out she's not such a bad choice to think about today, as she was 'born' on February 29th, 1924. 

Yep, Leap Day, that 'extra' day in February that gets added every four years (or nearly so, there are a few rare exceptions).

When I sought out a list of famous people born on this date, I found that for most of them, that date of birth was practically their only claim to fame. The only ones who made much sense to me were the athletes born on this day, who maybe are better at leaping than most. Hmmm. 

Although there's not really much in the way of formal celebrations for Leap Day/Leap Year, some people do manage to find ways to do so. As for me, about the only 'leaping' I did today was when the darn phone rang before seven this morning. Sure enough, a robo-call, not at all worth the leap. 

Ideas and thoughts beyond our own

Last week I had the good fortune of being a 'book' of sorts in a 'human library' at a secondary school here in the Lower Mainland. I'll admit that I wondered why I should be selected for such a project, but it turned out that students had plenty of questions for me. 

Because I used to work in a library, the place felt familiar in many ways. Lots of books, yes. A bank of computer stations, yes. Tables and chairs arranged around the room. Best of all, young faces asking me (often shyly) about my own books, about writing in general, and of course, what had attracted me to write a book about Amelia Earhart. The question that made me stumble, I think, was from a Grade 11 boy who asked for my definitive idea of what had really become of her. As if I might be able to provide a reasonable answer!

I'll admit that during breaks, I wandered the stacks, looking at the collection. While I was especially impressed by the many books there by Indigenous authors, I was surprised to spot a couple of books that have been pulled by many libraries. Why? Because those authors aren't exactly what they've claimed to be, their heritage isn't really Indigenous. 

When I spoke with the librarian about this, she explained that it was an issue they were still dealing with. Clearly, it presented a conflict that staff there were trying to draw some lines around. When (if ever) should a book be removed from a library? When should readers be denied the opportunity to decide for themselves?

Such questions are exactly why we observe Freedom to Read Week. There was a terrific piece by the head of the Calgary Library System offering some strong thoughts in 'Why our fight for intellectual freedom matters for all Canadians.'

I especially loved her closing line: "I don't always agree with everything on library shelves, but I will always fight for your right to read it." Exactly. 

Not according to plan

Today's post was supposed to be a cheery one, celebrating the fact that this little blog has been going (and been reasonably active) since this date in 2006. 

Eighteen years. That's how old you need to be to vote, to buy alcohol or cannabis products, to get married without parental consent. The powers-that-be have determined that as the age which deems one an adult. 

Instead, this day is filled with shock and sadness as we have learned of the death of Alexei Navalny at a prison camp in the Arctic in Russia. 

No one in what we consider as the Free World is thinking of this as anything but the execution of the person who served as the greatest and most outspoken threat to the tyranny of Putin. 

Strangely, when I sought a bit of comfort in an online word game, the first words played on the board (the computer posted two, I'd only played one) seemed to agree that this death was no accident. 

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. 

Wasteful

At least that's how this scene looked to me. 

On the weekend, there was a house there. One, I learned, that had been built in 1967. And here it was, the end of the line for it. 

Why, I wonder, do other towns and cities value their older homes? Is it because they have a greater respect for history, or do they consider the materials and craftsmanship that went into their making?

When this one was coming down, it didn't crumple easily, but withstood repeated blows from the digger. I couldn't help thinking, as I saw it sway from those repeated thumps, that it would have withstood a substantial earthquake. But then, looking at the materials it had been built with, its sturdiness was no surprise. 

It had been built with two-by-fours from wood that's far more substantial than the lumber that's for sale today. Why weren't those salvaged? Why wasn't that house taken apart, bit by precious bit? Windows? Doors? Light fixtures? All of these are items that cost plenty. And really, why should all of those be going to the already overfull landfill?

A man was strutting around while all of this was going on, pretty much nodding his head in approval. I suppose he'll be the new neighbour moving in to the undoubtedly mega-house that will be built there. I'd gone down to another neighbour's place, returning a piece of mail that had been mis-delivered to our house and tried to catch his eye to say hello each time I passed him. But no, his eyes may have well have been made of glass, so glazed over were they, so unwilling to engage. 

Today, to give the workers credit, the lot is tidy. There's even a fair amount of lawn-like grass, as if the site is getting ready to be turned into a neighbourhood park. But no, I am sure that isn't the case. 

Brain food

Our mother used to tell my sisters and me that fish was food for the brain, and did her best to convince us that eating it would make us smarter. She must have believed it was an ingredient we needed as she was often telling us to 'smarten up.' In truth, I always suspected the fish theory may well have simply been her way of getting us to eat sardines.

But the reason I'm thinking about brain food is that today is officially Puzzle Day. And if the reports are at all true, I've not (as my mother liked to scold) been wasting hours of my life by engaging in puzzles. As it turns out, they provide exercise for our brains. 

We 'puzzlers' (the official term for those who enjoy doing puzzles) are a tribe all our own. This is a term I happened to learn from a very fun book I read last week with the puzzling title of Jigsaw. 

I'll admit to being kind of a puzzle geek, as I love Sudoku, crossword puzzles, Wordle, and as you can see from the photo above, jigsaw puzzles, the biggest time-passer of all. 

Both of those puzzles were gifts I received at Christmas, but I haven't started either one of them. The round one, with 500 pieces looks challenging, but possible. While the beautiful Avatar-like image on the other is tempting, its 1,000 pieces leave me hesitant to even open the box, as 750 is my usual maximum. Still, with a new month approaching, the time may be nigh for new horizons with bigger challenges. 

Wouldn't you know--in the process of poking around for this post, I learned that eating fish maybe really does make you smarter. Once in a while I guess those mothers of ours managed to get a few things right after all. 

Oh yeah??

 

I'm not in the habit of arguing with 'answers' on Jeopardy! but hey, today this is just plain WRONG. 

Coldest I can remember it ever being. This morning, our little weather station read minus 15. Hardly what I'd call mild. 

Ta-daaaa!

A new year, hurrah! One that's almost sure to be better--or at least happier--than 2023 with its many horrors and wars. And I hope being a few days late with its bud opening doesn't make it any less appropriate for the new year. After all, what's a few days among friends. 

I suppose a flower seems an odd way to celebrate a mid-winter observance, but...to me the showy blossom of the amaryllis looks a lot like a horn that's trumpeting good news. 

At least I sure hope that's what it's announcing. 

 

December roses

A walk in my neighbourhood often reveals something I haven't noticed before. This time, it was a yard with several rose bushes in bloom. I didn't want to barge onto a stranger's property, so I had to make do with a quick snap from just outside their fence. 

Temperatures here have been very pleasant, though unseasonably mild. Today's 13 (that's Celsius here in Canada, Fahrenheit conversion is 55) feels like a day when a hoodie should be fine for a stroll. 

That's not altogether good news, especially as it's a current trend in much of the continent--yet another sign that our overall climate is changing. 

But I've posted that little rose for yet another reason. Today should be the birthday of a very dear friend. Sadly, he was one of the many who died because he had a nasty surprise from the drugs he thought were safe to use. 

And just yesterday came the news that proposed changes to rules intended to protect the lives of those who are drug-dependent--along with people who may be near them--have been dispensed with (at least for now).  

It's a problem that's not going to go away by merely wishing it so. Nor will any change in legislation bring back any of those now gone. I can only hope for the safety of those who, like the little roses, manage to hang on, as if looking for better times ahead. 

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. 

Karma Kardmelion

Okay, so Boy George wouldn't much like the way I've rearranged that name. I've been up to my elbows in making and sending out holiday greetings to family and friends, people I don't see often enough. With some of them, it's because they're too far away, be that England or Australia. If I had a transporter beam, I guess visiting would be easier. But since I don't (and I don't think anyone outside of Star Trek reruns does), cards are my best bet for staying in touch. 

The dining room table's been pretty much out of commission, owing to the invasion of the cards, though I admit the mess of them strewn across that surface has at least started to diminish. 

The other day I mailed out over 30. Today was a smaller batch by half. The last seem to mostly be ones where I'm having trouble tracking down an address I know has changed, or other such complications. 

So, where do thoughts of karma enter the picture?

Walking back to my car on my way home from the post office the other day, a flash of blue caught my eye. Sure enough: a small reward in the form of a five-dollar bill lying on the ground. Natch, I bent down and retrieved it. 

What can I say, but thank you, Universe!

City by the sea

The nearby city of White Rock calls itself the 'city by the sea'--and they have every right to, as the town stretches its entire length (about two miles) along Semiahmoo Bay, an arm of the Pacific Ocean.

But the city by the sea in my photo isn't White Rock, nor is it any other actual city. 

It's a creation that resides on top of a car, one that's been lovingly decorated by someone with much more talent (and patience!) than I will ever possess. 

I encountered this wonderfully fun creation while visiting one of my favourite towns, Port Townsend, Washington. 

Just out for a walk, taking a shortcut through a little-used parking lot, when I came upon this creation. 

Really, how could I not stop and admire it from several angles. And then of course, I had to take a few photos. 

I'll bet you would have had to as well. 

So much for clean energy

It's over a week since I've been home from a trip to Victoria. My reason for being there was the launch of a new anthology that contains a bit of my work. 

While a friend and I were leaving, taking the bus out to Swartz Bay to get the ferry home, we passed a group of people outside a building where the government was holding a meeting. Many of them carried signs, some of them even had 'Site C' on their banners. 

Their goal appeared to be reminding those inside of their public commitments to care for the environment. Yet sadly, we know that pretty much ALL the power generated by the mega-dam will go to Northeastern BC to power fracking operations. 

Frack. A word that I still believe will, in the future, replace our current F-word as an ugly expletive, as it won't be long until people understand how dangerous fracking is, and how it has the potential to despoil our precious groundwater, a resource (unlike petroleum) we cannot survive without. 

A new experience

One of my favourite film characters, the Countess Mathilde Chardin (better known as Maude from Harold and Maude) places a high value on the 'new experience' and its importance in enjoying life. So today's post is about a small but definitely (for me at least) new experience. 

It started about a week ago when I was at a friend's house where I noticed a beautiful tree, laden with golden fruits. Although they were about the size of a mandarin orange I knew that's not what they were. For one thing, oranges don't grow (yet) here in B.C. 

I wasn't sure but thought they might be persimmons, and sure enough, that's exactly what they were.

Turns out the ones on this tree were the Fuyu variety, which are kinder in terms of their readiness to eat. The other kind, Hachiya, has to be fully ripe before they're any good to eat, as they're far too astringent.  

So last night, we sliced one up for our dessert, and bingo, the new experience proved to be a good one.

I'm just sorry I didn't pick more than I did. 

The end of the End of the Long Dash...

It was November 5th, 1939 that the CBC first broadcast the National Research Council's official time signal. For those in the Eastern Time Zone, that occurred at 1:00 pm each day. For those of us here in BC in the Pacific Time Zone, the beep came at 10:00 am. And that beep after the long dash was a sound I heard most mornings, as that was when I liked to be sure the radio was on so I could hear the day's news. 

Sadly, we're no longer getting this notification. Plenty of reasons were given, though none of them seemed all that important to me. This was just another of those small observances we've become so glib about tossing aside. 

By next year, we may also NOT be going back to standard time, but may instead be making daylight saving time the rule for the whole year, not just the summer months. 

The most ironic aspect of ending the tradition of the time signal is that, if I'm working dates out correctly, it ended on Thanksgiving. Talk about a kick in the head. 

All I can offer is my own long dash --------- 

                        followed, of course, by that clear-toned Beeeeep which for now, I guess, you'll have to play in your imagination. 

All set for spooky fun!

Every year, it seems that more people in our neighbourhood decide to decorate their yards for Halloween. Tonight, the one in the photo above even has scary sounds emanating...Ooooooh, scary stuff!

We're more traditional (probably many would say 'boring') as all we have are a couple of jack-o-lanterns and a bag with a candle in it (luminaria) to guide tricksters up the walkway. 

Further down the street, there's a pair of skeletons taking a ride to who-knows-where! 

Good fun for a special night, and happily, one without rain.

End of the Line

It might seem odd to feature an image of apples, long associated with new beginnings (think Eden, even), in a post marking the end of something. In this case, unfortunately, those wonderful apples are the last of their kind. I'm not even sure what variety they might be, but because I know the people who rented a house on the land with the tree, I've had access to these for quite a few years. 

The parcel of land with the house has now been sold. Like so much of the land near here, what was once farmland has now been zoned industrial. Sigh. But back to the apples.

Not great for in-the-hand eating, but wonderful for pies or applesauce or, as I mostly do, dehydrating. Odd perhaps, but I no longer use an actual dehydrator, as I've discovered that the pilot light on our gas fireplace makes for just the right temp to slowly dry the fruit. 

Little bags of dried apples will find their way into gift packs at Christmas, though I guess for next year, I'll have to find some other old-timey apple tree that will serve me with a supply of windfall fruit. And hoping for sure, with all the strife currently raging in the world, that this holiday season won't be the end of the line for everyone. 

Eclipsed?

Earlier this morning I headed outside, hoping to get a glimpse of the partial eclipse that was supposed to be visible here. 

But instead of a view of the sun, I was greeted by clouds. 

Still, because I know how quickly our weather can change (yes, it can be an all-weathers-in-a-day kind of place), I poked around in the garden a bit, waiting in case the clouds might blow past.  

Luckily I knew where my special eclipse-viewing glasses were--the same pair from when I'd watched

the total eclipse in 2017. When I put them on, I thought they must have gone 'bad' from being so old, as I couldn't see anything through them. But I guess that's exactly how dark they're supposed to be, as a few minutes later when the sky cleared a bit, there it was--a partially occluded sun!

I didn't want to fry the light-sensing unit in my faithful little camera, so I refrained from trying to shoot with it. As a result, all I can do is tell you what I saw: in essence, a 'crescent sun' with the 'C' of its shape pointing downward, the black circle of the moon beneath. But here's a link to a news story about the event as it took place on the south end of Vancouver Island, not so far from here as the proverbial crow flies. It contains a few amazing images, which may help satisfy your craving for a glimpse of what I got to see today. 

Traditional

How lucky--to be invited for a Thanksgiving dinner--one I didn't have to make! About the only thing I needed to do was go along to the local store in search of a roasting pan that would be big enough to accommodate this beautiful bird, as the one in the cupboard was too small. 

After its ride in the oven while the rest of us went out to a local park for a stroll, the golden bird was ready for sharing. 

As we sat down with our meal, we remembered a dear one who had made turkey dinners for all of us in the past. And in honour of her, we were lucky enough to be feasting on food that came from some of her recipes. 

A feast to be thankful for, complete with all the trimmings. 

 

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'. 

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. 

The tale of a tail and more

Earlier this month, I spent some time cat-sitting--not something I do very often, as I have allergies, but...This kitty is special. Her name is Miss Molly. 

It didn't take many days for her to train me to understand her needs, including when to brush her, pet her, go outside with her, and of course, dole out the snacks. 

She'd sit near me and give me 'the look' which fortunately, I learned to understand. Standing by the kitchen door was the easiest, as it meant she wanted me to grab my book and for the two of us to go out to sit on the deck on the puffy-cushioned chairs. 

When my tour of duty was nearing its end, I was packing my things and had left the bag for my rainboots and extra shoes on the floor. 

Since pretty well all paper bags are fair game for kitties to climb into, that's exactly what she did. 

But little did I know that she'd curled up inside. So when I went to pick up the bag, it was much heavier than I'd expected it to be. Then slink, out she came, clearly not happy that I'd disturbed the place she'd chosen for a nap. 

I'm hoping that particular experience didn't sour our relationship too much, as I'm planning to go back there in October. I guess I'll just have to wait and see what she decides, whether I will remain worthy of her friendship or not. 

Foraged

While I am very grateful that I don't have to rely on my foraging skills to eat, it's certainly an activity that I enjoy.

As the various fruits have ripened over the summer, I've been picking and packing those away as wintry treats. So far, four kinds of berries (strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries) are either in the freezer or stored as jars of jam. As for apples and pears, I've been freezing or canning them, and may still dry a few. Some of these treats will fill gift bags at Christmas. Others will be hand to enjoy with toast or yogourt. Frozen ones will serve as filling in crisps or pies. 

It's not time yet to go out seeking mushrooms, especially where we're still experiencing drought conditions--once practically unheard of here in Canada's rainforest province. Those need the kiss of moisture to bring their fruiting bodies to the surface of the woodlands. 

So yesterday saw me exploring the rocky shoreline for seaweeds. I suppose because I'm somewhat adventurous, I enjoy adding these to soups or stir-fry dishes. As the tide receded, there were so many different kinds to gather. Our province is home to a huge variety from giant bull kelp, some of which are now endangered as are so many species on our fragile planet.  

When it comes to preserving them, drying seems to work best, and they reconstitute quickly when they hit the hot broth. They'll be an interesting taste treat in the coming months--and in addition, a nice boost of vitamins and minerals, including iodine. 

Like I said, I am fortunate to not have to rely on what I forage, but it's something I will probably always like doing.

Just peachy

Poking around for information about peaches, I found that there's a state in the US that claims it as their state symbol. But gosh, wouldn't you know that it would have to be Georgia, the state that's making more than its share of news these days. 

I'd rather not hear or see more about he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned. 

Instead, I'm looking forward to being able to pick and eat one of these glowing orbs from the brave little peach tree in our back yard as it's spent the summer surviving extended drought and now, smoky air. 

Nonetheless, I'm counting on it tasting as explosively delicious as its companions have in previous years--one of the highlight treats of summer! 

Are people getting stupider?

I'm not sure, but it seems to me that some folks indeed are getting stupider. And I have a few reasons for thinking this--not all of them completely stupid. 

My number one reason is the number of folks in the US who continue to believe that he-who-shall-not-be-named is a truth-teller and, as such, is worthy of being able to run (and be elected) as the next president of the US. 

Another reason comes from watching today's news where California is being drenched by rains from Hurricane Hilary (only one L there, so no politicizing, please). As a result many roads have been closed now that waters are rushing over them, temporary rivers.

But hey--what's that I saw a little while ago on CNN??  Yep, folks driving past the 'road closed' signs as if they were mere decorations. Stupid. And I suppose if their car gets wrecked, they'll be looking for compensation from their insurance provider. 

The reason I even thought about this in the first place was a message on a box of cereal in our pantry. Look closely (you can double-click on the pic to enlarge it) at the box of Vector and you'll actually find 'directions for use' offering instructions for how much cereal to put into your bowl as well as how much milk (skimmed--oops, I use 1%) to add. To think, for all these years, I've probably been doing it wrong. Duh!!

The weeds shall inherit the Earth

It's been about the driest summer I can recall. There was maybe one brief rain shower in July, and not much more this month--at least not yet. So most of the lawns in our neighbourhood are golden brown. 

Only, not all of them. 

It amazes me, but there are actually people who live nearby who have artificial turf instead of lawn. I suppose it's easy to have a lawn that never needs cutting, but...

I'll avoid going into my objections over such artifice even though they make up a longish list of gripes. The day is too beautiful to be indoors typing, so I am going to go back outside. 

But I must say that there's something quite agreeable about seeing such a tangle of invasive morning glory (bindweed) as well as some other sprawling weed exerting themselves across their would-be finery. 

A new chapter

After a weekend spent on more than one ferry, the Big Move is now complete. Whew!

It wasn't us, but my son and his partner, gone to Vancouver Island to a very comfy house. It's much bigger than their old one, with space for a decent office for each of them. And oh, the storage shelves and cupboards and closets and drawers -- Wow!

There's also an amazing garden there, with raised beds looking ready for next year's plantings, along with an apple tree, a plum tree, and a nicely established bed of raspberry canes. 

Even in winter the garden will look amazing, as there's holly and all kinds of small evergreens. But the most fun part is all the birdhouses and small statues interspersed amongst the greenery. One of them is this Buddha, who's clearly happy to have them near. 

Now I guess we're just going to have to get accustomed to more rides on BC Ferries. 

So much depends...

Oh, just look at all that shiny stuff -- right down to the gold-striped serviettes. Shiny or what. 

Those items were accessories at the buffet meal served yesterday at the 'celebration of life' held for a dear friend. I'm not sure she would have liked that much plastic, especially where it looked like it might not be recyclable. Still, it certainly made the table very pretty, and I know that intentions were good. 

The food was quite amazing, with everything from several kinds of salmon -- delicate smoked lox, even chunks of candied salmon. And just about every kind of fruit you could think of, especially the summer treats like melons and berries. 

But for me, even more amazing were the memories people shared. It felt like all of us in the room were part of some overgrown aging family. 

And most amazing of all was one of the speeches, clearly the best-prepared of any that were presented. 

This friend used the analogy of the humble wheelbarrow to illustrate the many wonderful traits of our recently-gone friend. The wheelbarrow, overall, was such an apt metaphor for our friend as she was an avid gardener who never let the chance to enlist guests in work parties pass her by. But on, to the wheelbarrow, on which we know 'so much depends'. 

The legs, left and right, stood for the two sides of her brain -- logic and organizational skills on the right, balanced by the freedom-loving creative side on the left (which was also pointed out as being the departed's political leanings). 

The wheel with its ever-forward, onward direction reminded us of our friend's penchant for travelling the globe, sometimes even on the wheels of a bicycle. 

And yes, William Carlos Williams told it so beautifully all those years ago with his spare little poem about the wheelbarrow. 

Shiny plastic cutlery or not, I am sure our friend must have looked down on all of us and smiled. 

Midsummerish

Although many countries actually celebrate a festival they call Midsummer -- and do so long before mid-July -- I'm stuck in my ways enough that I think of Midsummer as the middle of this month. 

The term 'midsummer' apparently refers to the mid-point of the growing season, the halfway mark between planting and harvest. 

For those of us here in Canada, school isn't even over when those other countries celebrate. Here, the kids have only been free for just over two weeks. And often, it's only mid-month when the rains of 'June-u-ary' finally stop. 

This year's been different, with nary a drop of rain since back in June. Everything is dry dry dry, with high fire hazards and campfire bans province-wide. 

Lucky us, to be invited for our annual visit to a dear friend's cottage on the lake. 

The temps may have been warm, but going out for a paddle in the canoe (barest tip showing lower right) is a pleasure that's hard to beat. 

Numero Uno

Well, sheesh. I thought I'd taken a great photo of the very first blackberry of the season. Only now that I look at it, I see that it's fuzzy. 

Still it's the only documentation I have of the real thing -- the first. 

Maybe it's been affected by the smoke that hung in the skies last week?

Maybe that cataract in my right eye is spreading its fuzziness?

Maybe I'll just have to wait for more berries to ripen and then take a better photo of the bounty of summer. 

Maybe. 

P.S. The berry didn't taste at all fuzzy. Still warm from the sun, it was sweet and delicious. 

Delicate

I guess the lazy days of summer must be upon me. Here it is, already July 4th, and I'm only now doing a post for Canada Day, July 1st. 

When I first stepped outside on July 1st, that delicate red poppy was the first thing that caught my eye. I'm just glad I had the sense to grab my camera, as by the next morning, the blossom was already gone. 

For all I know, this may have been one of the last times we, as a country, even observe Canada Day. The more we learn about colonialism, it's an issue we need to consider. 

We can't forget that the day itself was known for many years as Dominion Day. The very word says it all. I suppose it was a small step to at least change the name.

About all I can do is keep an open mind and keep learning. And of course, I can keep appreciating all the delicate beauty I see around me. 

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. 

Rescue 6-13

It was just one of those lucky flukes -- a matter of being in the right place at the right time. 

One of the many local construction sites, where a bundle of bamboo was being dredged out by its roots...when that dear man I know spotted it and asked if he could have it. 

Turns out that wasn't a problem. In fact the person taking it out helped pack it into the car, even gave us a bungee to help anchor it there. 

It must have looked like a forest parade, as we carefully went home, flashers indicating how slowly we needed to go. As for back-up accompaniment, it was the lovely sound of bamboo leaves swishing against the surface of the road. 

Once home it was a matter of fetching the old bathtub we'd rescued a couple of years back, always with the thought of having it become a home for another bunch of bamboo. 

A bit of a chop to the edge of the deck and the tub slid right into place. 

Some teamwork, and voila -- a new 'mini-forest' of bamboo for us. 

Privacy and all those lovely sounds...

Tiny homes--not just for the birds

When we came home from our holiday travels, we discovered that we had a new 'tenant' in our gazebo. An ambitious little bird had built a nest in a hanging lantern. It's a lantern made for a candle, and since no candle was in there, the bird must have decided on claiming squatter's rights. 

Close examination (during one of those spells when the mother bird is out) revealed four eggs.

It's a very blurry shot as the angle for shooting was awkward to say the least. Still, small proof of my claim at least exists. 

I'm a little concerned about how the tiny hatchlings (when/if they come) will fly up to the top of their 'house' to go out into the big world. One more lesson to watch for...

This tiny house served as a reminder of how many people across the world are in need of housing. There's a wonderful sounding project going on in Kitchener-Waterloo which offers me a bit of hope that maybe we're not such an awful species as it sometimes seems. 

Looking forward to more such set-ups across the country and near at hand. 

Beachside travels

Well, we've been back for a couple of days, and I reckon I'm still in holiday mode. It was just a two-week getaway, but my favourite kind of treat as most of those days were ones without Internet. Sure, I missed some news, and was late getting a number of emails, but the world didn't fall apart just because I chose to step aside. 

And aside it truly was. 

The photo above is from one of the places we 'camped' -- I put that in quotes as we were travelling in our little motorhome, The Rattler. It has pretty much all of the comforts of home: stove, fridge (with freezer for ice cream), even a microwave. 

We wandered through Washington state and stayed at state parks we'd visited before as well as a few new ones which are sure to be part of future itineraries. As for the beach above, it provided a satchel of hand-dug steamer clams, which were way more delicious (it seemed) than any store-bought ones would have been. 

Still catching up on the realities of being home, but overall glad to be back (though the road will no doubt call my name again soon). 

Well-deserved

There are days when it's a treat to get out and see people. Happily, today was one of those, and not just because the sun was shining (though yes, that helps). 

My reason for getting out -- and even into the city -- was a celebration. 

Susan Musgrave was being presented with the George Woodcock Award for a lifetime achievement in the literary arts. The list of her publications was far too long for the presenters to read, though there was an amazing display of the library's copies of her books on a large table at the back of the room. 

Despite the weighty occasion, as always is the case, Musgrave managed to make the audience laugh. She remembered how the award was originally sponsored by the company then known as 'BC Gas' (now Fortis) and how she thought the idea of getting a lifetime award from that outfit didn't sound so great -- 'a lifetime gas award?'

It was great seeing so many friends I hadn't seen these last three long years -- all of us a little greyer, but happy to see each other. 

And I can't end this short post without acknowledging the other author honoured at this event, Alan Twigg. He was presented as this year's winner of the George Ryga Award for Social Awareness in Literature. The award recognizes all that Twigg has done to ensure that writings about the Holocaust are preserved. 

An amazing evening, one where I felt privileged to witness two presentation to two very deserving recipients.