More of the same to come?

Earlier this weekend, this black screen and its message showed up on our tv. Blame for this disruption of service was placed on the sun and an extreme solar storm--as if the storms we're experiencing on Earth aren't enough. A few days ago it was Milton, barely a week before it was Helene.  

Unlike a hurricane which pummels an area with wind and drenches it with rain, a solar storm has an effect on electrical signals like the digital ones that have become more prevalent with every technological advance. 

As we continue digitalizing (or should that be digitizing?) our world, there are bound to be more such messages from our various providers. 

Though annoying, this is yet another example of what we must remember is truly a First World problem--not something to really fuss about, especially on this Thanksgiving Day, when nearly all of us have so very much to be grateful for. 

Comparative wipes

Nope, not what you might first think--not toilet paper. Newspaper. 

Yes, I still subscribe to a hard copy edition of The Vancouver Sun that's delivered here just about every morning. But I also am the recipient of a couple of other papers, shared by a friend after she's read them for herself. 

Today I decided it was time to wash the windows, and I remain a proponent of the vinegar and newsprint school of doing this job. 

The Sun was fine, no streaks or smears; so was The Globe and Mail. But oh dear, the New York Times -- it broke apart into tiny shreds that would be great for making papier-mache, but not good at all for washing windows. 

Some days we discover things we never dreamed of, and this day was one of those. Hardly earth-shaking, but fun. 

A month of books

When I say a month of books, it's not exactly the traditional calendar month that I mean, more of a range of days when bookish events seem to be everywhere. 

Last weekend was the final celebratory day for Word Vancouver, an annual event that used be known as Word on the Street. Some cities back east still have that name, but we've gone (as we so often seem to do) our own way on this one. 

The poetry bus in the photo above had all of its ad spaces above the seats filled with poems by those whose work had been selected for this year's Poetry in Transit awards. A reading by those writers was just one of the sessions at this year's Word event. Happily, the sun was shining and most of the day was even reasonably warm, something that hasn't always been the case for this mostly-outdoor festival. 

Coming up soon, this Saturday in fact, Vancouver Public Library (Central Branch, downtown) is hosting a free event, "Literary MAGnitude: Why Lit Mags Matter." Anyone who writes would attest to the importance of these 'little' magazines. Where else does anyone get their start?

And before the month is out, Vancouver will be again playing host to writers from across the country and, in fact, all over the world with the annual Vancouver Writers Fest. I'm currently reading The Wren, The Wren by Irish author Anne Enright, and I'm looking forward to hearing her in conversation. 

But because I'm an oddball kind of reader, I'd have to say that's not the only book that's currently on the go for me. I'm in the middle of Caroline Adderson's collection of short stories, A Way to Be Happy. 

And on what I suppose is a stranger note, not very long ago, I realized that two books I'd signed out from the library (both about survival after major difficulties) had completely opposite titles. But then, their titles must say something about how my life often runs. 

What timing!

Must admit, I was thrilled to discover, just yesterday, that my little batch of autumn crocuses came up again. For a while, the patch of ground they usually inhabit looked sadly vacant. I was ready to blame the squirrels who've been known to dig up many of the bulbs I keep pushing into the soil every autumn. 

I'll admit, these little flowers were 'stolen'--or perhaps, more correctly 'rescued' from the yard of a house that was about to be torn down (and don't get me going on that, way too many perfectly good houses around here keep getting taken down).

This morning saw autumn become official, earlier than when I got up, to be sure, out here in the Pacific Time Zone. 

One thing I didn't get around to doing (but maybe there's still time) was change the filter on our Brita dispenser, something I usually do every equinox or solstice. I rely on the sun to give me these occasional reminders, and generally keep to the schedule. 

I'm looking forward to having those delicate little pink flowers open up, yet another marker of the season. 

Takin' a break

Last week meant a break from all that's 'normal' around here. We set out on a trip to Manning Park, a provincial park that offers the quiet of spending time in the forest, without any interference from the demands of being online. For that matter, there's not even a power source (beyond the temporary support of batteries). It's become a kind of tradition to head out on a camping trip during the second week of September, as that's when the kids are back in school and the crowds have departed from the parks. 

Fortunately, the fire ban had been lifted, so we were able to have a campfire every night--a place to sit beside while we sat in comfy deck chairs and entertained ourselves with the old-fashioned simplicity of conversation. 

Daytime was for exploring some of the trails--places we'd been before, but because every year sees changes in the landscape, new sights presented themselves at nearly every turn. 

There's a calm that comes from being away from just about everything that constitutes our daily lives. And really, looking out over the Beaver Pond, hearing nothing more than birdsong and the riffling of leaves, it'd be downright challenging to feel uptight about anything. 

 

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 dark day in BC

And no, I'm not talking about the weather, though the gloomy skies this afternoon appear to be in agreement. It's a dark day because today is the day BC Hydro has begun filling the reservoir created by the Site C Dam on the Peace River. 

The water will flood 6,649 hectares of farmland. To put that into the more familiar terminology most of us still use, that's just about 16,000 acres. But even that number doesn't really compute as to just how massive this reservoir will be when it's full--and how much arable land we're losing. 

About the closest familiar bit of land that's pretty much equivalent to an acre is a football field. So, if you think about how much food could be grown on one football field, and we're talking 16,000 of them--well, I think you get my drift over how hideous this loss is. 

It gets even worse if you stop to consider how much farmland we keep losing in the Lower Mainland, particularly in Richmond and Surrey where condos, mega-houses, and warehouses keep being built, covering our farmland. 

As our climate keeps getting warmer, the tragedy only grows, as there's little doubt the region would soon be capable of growing foods that long had to be grown further south. 

I know, I've been ranting about the folly of this project for a long time, but somehow I tricked myself into thinking it still might not happen. Sadly, it turns out, I was very wrong. 

Now I guess we'll need to find a name for this dreadful new 'lake' that will cover so much. Lake Disappointment? Lake Horrible? How about Lake Despair.