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...

Crumbling

No, I haven't gone to the Middle East to take photos. This is from what they call City Centre in Surrey. The name is an invention from a developer's mind; the location is nowhere near the geographic centre of the city, which is actually where City Hall was located some years ago. 

The overriding philosophy of late seems to be 'tear it down, build something at least 40 stories tall.'

I've been attending City Council meetings, and is it ever disheartening. 

Neither the Councillors in Surrey nor the ones in nearby White Rock show an ounce of respect for the wishes of the public, even though (they seem to have forgotten), the public is the beast that elects them. 

Thus, my feelings that democracy, as we once knew it, is crumbling--and not just here either. 

Regrets or no regrets

It's been a while since I've posted anything here--not for lack of things going on, only for silly reasons, including procrastination. 

But since this rainbow has been lolling about in my recent photos, it seemed like an omen that might get me going again. After all, something about it seems quite protective even if it does seem to be in the midst of a brewing storm. 

We'll see how the next few days pan out. 

Living salad bar

I've been doing my best to buy Canadian, and must admit it isn't always easy. So many US products have filled our produce aisles, too many of us have forgotten how to grow our own. 

One of the best ways I've found of working around the many varieties of lettuce from California has been the discovery of 'living lettuces' that are grown here. Not only do they last longer in the fridge, because they already have a well-established root ball beneath the leaves, they're super-easy to plant! All you need to do, once you've used the leaves is ensure there's still about an inch or so of greenery above the roots and stick the whole thing into soil. The 'salad bar' above is the result of just such 'recycling' and pretty much ready for harvest (at which time I'll do the same procedure again). 

But apparently you don't even need to find the pre-rooted kinds of lettuce for this to work. Here's a video that demonstrates how to start lettuce using only water (as well as further videos on 're-using' green onions and more). I have to admit that when these little plants are starting out, they remind me a lot of one of my favourite film characters, Groot, from Guardians of the Galaxy. 

Happy growing, along with heathy and delicious eating!

Heartbreaking

The photo above is from 2014, the first time I visited Harbour Grace, NL. That's the town that served as the taking-off point for Amelia Earhart's solo flight across the Atlantic Ocean, and today, May 20th, is the anniversary of that flight, now 93 years ago. (If you click on the link for May 20th, you'll see two minutes of silent footage taken that day.)

I'm the one who tucked the tiny bouquet into her hand. It was just my little way of saying hello to her, as she is one of my personal heroines. I can't imagine what courage it took to fly across the Atlantic, and in a plane reliant on a single engine! No fallback there, only fall-into-the sea. 

I named this post "Heartbreaking" because earlier this spring, scoundrels (sounds like it was a pair of men) stole the statue, all seven feet of metal in her likeness. So far, "Amelia" hasn't been found. I, along with many others, continue to hope that the statue hasn't been melted down. 

The real Amelia was lost once, back in 1937. This time, it's truly a crime. 

A quiet art

When I was little, I used to love going into my gramma's workroom--at least that's how I thought of it. I have no idea what she called that room, but it was a magical place to me. It was where she made quilts. 

There was a frame she used to build them on, rolling the edges as she sewed--always by hand--the same way I liked to sew the doll clothes I made. Must have been something in our genes.

Yesterday I attended a quilters' exhibit, and as you might guess from the photo above, I wasn't the only one amazed by what I saw. If you click on the photo you might be able to tell that the images on the white background are bits of applique. It's an art that confounds me; I can't imagine needlework that could be more demanding. 

Reading the sign next to that quilt, the artist reveals it took her a year and a half to finish it. Not surprising, considering the demanding detail involved. And also not surprising, this was the quilt that won both main awards: the prize for best quilt as well as acknowledgment at being the people's choice. Hear, hear and bravo!

This woman, working on her own small piece of applique didn't mind my taking a photo of her at work. Inspiring, but not an art I feel capable of taking up.  

Bizzy

Or should that maybe, with that bee so hard at work, be 'buzzy' instead?

This rhododendron, which is probably 12 feet tall, has in the past always done me the honour of opening on Mother's Day. But this year, it decided to open early. 

I'm not complaining. It's always beautiful, but usually opens after the lilacs are spent. This year, both of them are gloriously in bloom, almost as if they're trying to compete with each other. 

In my mind, neither is 'winning'--I'm just grateful to have so much beauty outside the front door.