It sounds like officials for the City of White Rock have fallen off the deep end and into a pool of something that's making them talk funny. They sound as though they're spouting April Fool's Day pranks.

It's a plan to 'improve' the waterfront, to the tune of 30 million dollars. From blockades down there already, it looks as though they're serious about carrying out a plan that I can only look at and call insane.

Half of that 30 million would go towards dredging the seabed to 'reclaim' 6,500 square metres of land from the sea. That's 1.6 something acres, or a little bigger than the area of a CFL field.

Creating a new park sounds civic-minded, I suppose, but at a cost of $15 million for that 'reclaimed' land?

And how would such a plan affect the sealife offshore? After all, the bay still contains crabs, fish, and even the occasional visiting whale. And really, haven't these officials heard about rising sea levels?

I suspect all of this has less to do with improving life for the citizens of White Rock than with setting the stage for a pricey marina that will complement the all-too-likely casino on land that was once called Semiahmoo Park.

Today is World Oceans Day, a day when we should be thinking of ways to clean up the waters, to look after our oceanfront, not destroy it.

Unexpected

But then, I suppose, a fire is never something you plan for. While it's certainly nowhere near the scale of the Fort McMurray experience, this was more than enough to remind the many members of our community who'd gathered quietly, watching that yes, it can happen here -- or anywhere.

I took the photo about an hour ago, close to twelve hours after the fire was first noticed. It's hard to think that it still continues. I can only hope it will be under control and out soon -- and in time to salvage at least part of this apartment building. The one behind it, under construction, is gone.

Difficult to know what to say or think, beyond yet again being grateful for all being well here at our house.

Junuary at the Market

As much as I’d like to claim that term as one of my own invention, the word isn’t original. I spotted it in an article in the Vancouver Sun, part of their story about how this is turning into the coldest June on record.

I believe it. When I read the story, my sweater and I felt affirmed – maybe even a bit warmer – knowing that our chilliness wasn’t one of those ‘just-me’ things.
The White Rock Farmers’ Market is nearly always drafty, as it’s situated in a man-made wind tunnel, tucked in between some less-than-beloved high-rise buildings. The wind isn’t usually enough to deter shoppers, but it seemed that today’s combination of wet and cold did exactly that. I heard several vendors talking about how it was hardly worth opening their stall today. This was lucky for me, I suppose, as the baker was more much more willing than usual to let me quibble over the price of the bread and goodlets I wanted.

I’m hoping that this isn’t the kind of weather we need to get accustomed to. Still, I can’t help but think of that poem by bill bissett, the one that cautions: “summr starts in july ths yeer.” With Solstice arriving later in the week, I’ve got my fingers crossed for some sun and warmth – and soon.

Good intentions, at least

No, I don't take the plunge at the annual Polar Bear Swim, but I do my best to always attend, at least cheering on the crazies -- er, participants.

Still, this is part of my resolve to walk more this year. A walk along the promenade at White Rock beach is always a great way to start the new year. And a good way to put one resolution into practice.

Tales of the 351

I can understand if you’re having trouble figuring out what the image is. I’m still scratching my head as to why these things have to happen.

It’s a pic I snapped the other night on the #351 bus home from town.

The Canada Line is all swish and swell, and the driverless trains just keep a-comin’ till somebody shuts 'em down sometime well after midnight. But because connector buses to the southern 'burbs have a drastically cut schedule (down to only one per hour) after 11pm, the line-ups for the buses just grow and grow as the trains blindly bring riders to the changeover station.

Plenty of concerts and other events in Vancouver start around 8 (movies often at 9 or 9:30), so it’s only logical to see that many riders will be starting to head home sometime after 11. But some brainy administrator (who’s obviously never stood outside in the cold waiting for a bus) seems to have determined that everybody who lives past Richmond must go to bed by eleven.

Sure, there’s a bit of an overhang for shelter while you wait, but that’s it. And nary a toilet in any Translink station, so hang on!

Because the bus I was on (11:50 pm) was only faintly illuminated, it was hard to tell just how many passengers were standing. My best count (I did it twice) was over 30. With the number of seats on the bus (47) and the number standing – even if my head count was off, we were well over the stated capacity (60).

I’m grateful the driver was willing to take all of us, and that he didn’t want to leave anyone behind in the cold. As he pointed out as he asked everyone to keep moving back, “We don’t want to leave them out there for another hour.”

He drove smoothly and carefully, and a number of us thanked him for squeezing us all in. I guess we were just lucky that pretty well everyone on the ride that night was nice and slim!

Translink doesn’t seem to think there’s a problem with their scheduling. As of last contact, they have ‘no plans’ to add more late-night buses. Guess we better get used to this – and hope that all the drivers on the line are willing to bend the rules for the sake of riders on the 351 route.

Celebratory!

For too many months, the city of White Rock has felt grey and dreary -- and it hasn't had anything to do with the weather. So many shop windows are papered over, the place sometimes feels like a ghost town.

But today the sun was shining -- and not just in the sky. The brightness was reflected in the faces of the many people filling the walkways and streets.

Musicians played in several venues (in fact, it was difficult to take everything in), vendors were demontrating their wares along the sidewalks. There was even a 'bouncy castle' playground for kids.

One of the day's activities was the official opening of a month-long fibre arts festival, Outside the Box. Lots of art to look at, even a dance in celebration of the medium. 

No one can complain that there isn't plenty going on in White Rock these days. It's a treat to see the place so vibrantly alive.

Olympic flame of a different sort

I was down at the beach yesterday morning, just about the same time the Olympic torch passed by through White Rock. Pink streaks of light filled the morning sky, a sliver of moon still hung above the sea.

The crowds who’d come down to witness the torch were already trudging up the hill, heading for their cars, the busy-ness that would be their day.

Alone against this tide of people, I wandered along the railway tracks, snapping too many photos of sky, sea, trees, and birds.

Walking past the band shell in the park, I noticed a small group of people who looked as if they were waiting for something.

Approaching them, I asked, “Where’s Gordon Campbell?” After all, our premier’s been popping up almost anyplace where there might be a photo op. They point to each other and laugh, as if one of them might be Campbell in disguise. Then one claims instead to be Stephen Harper. “Oh yes, of course, he’s on holiday. He should be out here any day now.”

As it turns out, they’re going to have a prayer of peace for the Olympics. When they invite me to join them, I do.

Organized by a local group, called the Awakening Heart, the people here represent various faiths and belief systems. Among us, there is an imam, a few Jainists, several Buddhist monks and a nun. The representative from the Unitarian church is charming. She makes the claim that her church has ‘borrowed’ from everyone else. Many, like me, are of no particular affiliation, yet all of us clearly respect one another.

The prayers are multilingual – in Arabic, Sanskrit, and, luckily for me, English.

My place in the circle is beside a man from Sydney, Australia. I can tell by his headpiece that he is likely Muslim. When we are asked to join hands, I have the sense to hesitate, realizing that he and I are probably not permitted to touch. He smiles and indicates for me to hold on near the cuff of his sleeve. This makes the link. We are respectfully joined to the rest of the circle.

At one point the sound of helicopters is too loud for any of us to hear what the other might be saying. We stop, and though I realize this is the noise of the omnipresent Olympic security forces, I think of the many places in the world where this might be the sound of an attack.

When we resume, the angle of the sun reaches into the band shell, shining on us even though we are standing beneath the structure’s overhang.

As the circle of prayers nears its conclusion, a chorus of birds revs up with a glorious morning song. And then a dog jumps up on the platform, sniffing us in turn. It’s as if the animals understand what we are asking, and try to say that they want peace too.

As I leave, I carry a flame in my heart, one that burns stronger than the Olympic torch possibly could.

White Rock cares about Climate Change

Despite freezing temps, a stalwart crew gathered for a candlelight vigil at the busy intersection marking the boundary of White Rock and Surrey. Our goal, to show solidarity with those working in Copenhagen to create meaningful policies that will bring positive results.

People here on the Semiahmoo Peninsula, an area which still boasts some of the best weather in Canada, care about how climate change is affecting our sisters and brothers around the world.

The message to Stephen Harper and the rest of our government is clear. Now is the time to get moving with real change – changes in action and changes in thinking that will address the climate changes occurring all over the face of our lovely planet.

Taking a positive step for the Arts

Today saw a diverse group of artists gather for an Open Space forum. Our goal? To formulate answers to the day’s guiding question, What will grow and sustain our local arts community?

The day's gathering was sponsored by the City of White Rock, but drew artists in many genres from well beyond the boundaries of the city.

For a change, despite all the doom-and-gloom cutbacks we’ve seen to the arts here in BC, I think all of us left with the feeling that things are going to improve.

As one of the visual artists in attendance envisioned it, she showed us her painting of a bud ready to burst. She followed that with a second piece -- blossoming into this vibrant display.

Hokey can be good

One of the joys of living where we do is that every once in a while it still feels like a small town.

This weekend is Sea Festival in White Rock, and one of the festival's traditions is the torchlight parade. There aren't any actual torches anymore (I wonder, were there ever?), but it's still a bit of a thrill, even if a pretty hokey one.

As in most small town parades, there are old time cars and police vehicles and marching bands. But for this parade, all of them are somehow decked out with Christmas lights or at least an array of glow-in-the-dark thingies.

This year's event was disappointing in that there weren't any pipers, an element that seems just about essential to me. At least we got some would-be Blues Brothers -- not quite the same, but fun nonetheless.

Spent with a group of longtime friends, it made for a beautiful night along the seaside, even long after parade's end.

Market Day in White Rock

I suppose for many, Sunday is still a day for church-going. I'm not among that group, but hey -- whatever you believe is fine with me.

I still needed a few bits of local greens to round out yesterday's Sunday supper, so the Farmer's Market seemed like the best place to go. As usual, I ended up buying more than just those few vegies. I bought jars of honey, salsa, some baked treats, even granola.

But the real treat of the morning was running into friends, standing around and having a little catch-up chat. That kind of unplanned encounter always gives me such a strong sense of what community is all about. And maybe that's as close as I will ever again get to anything like church.

The day was cold and gusty, a big change from what we've been having, but the singers persevered. From left to right, they're locals Heidi McCurdy and Laurel Murphy. The singer on the right is Katia Leonardo, over here from Portugal. The little vid gives you a tiny sampling of what you'll hear this Wednesday if you can make it into Vancouver for a show at the Jazz Cellar.

The Nose Knows

A walk to the beach led me to an ugly discovery. The sculptured bear on East Beach, even though he’s never been my favourite piece of public art, had been the victim of a senseless attack.

He’d lost a good chunk of his nose.

It must have taken a huge amount of effort – or at least some solid tools – to gouge out such a chunk of this massive piece of stone.

It’s too bad whoever did this couldn’t find a more productive outlet for that kind of energetic strength.

A friend reminded me that rubbing the nose of a statue is a superstition associated with bringing good luck. Mean of me, maybe, but I’m hoping that the missing chunk of nose will follow the person who did this, and trail him (her?) with all sorts of bad luck. The nose knows…

What a great day!

Out-of-town friends are such a great excuse to get out and do something. We started at Darts Hill, a garden that's only open a couple of days each year. The friends' timing for being in town was perfect, as today was the day.

After that we took a long lazy stroll on the beach.When we came back here the friends had to grab their bags and head for the car so I could deliver them to the aiport. By now they're probably back to Denver, maybe even at home with Rudy the Dog.

When I got back from the airport run, I scooted on over to Camp Alexandra -- site of a local arts festival. Lucky me, I got there in time to catch a set by Heidi McCurdy and her band -- always great stuff. Talent galore -- and floating on a summery breeze, her voice sounds even better than it does on CD.

Polar Bears in White Rock

Yesterday we strolled down the beach to watch the noonday Polar Bear Swim, an annual New Year's Day tradition. Crazy as ever, they made quite a splash!

Sea Festival at White Rock

White Rock used to host an annual Sandcastle Festival. But then too many rowdies started showing up and it turned into a headache -- and an expensive one -- for the locals. One year, I remember walking through the shallows, admiring the many constructions, taking a few photos...only when I stepped out of the water and onto the sand, I realized my feet were bleeding. I'd been cut by bits of broken beer bottles embedded in the flats. That was probably the last year for the event.
But wait a minute, now it's 2008 and White Rock's decided to give it a go again. This makes the Sea Festival feel complete. Oh, and besides sandcastles, there's all sorts of music and vendors -- even fireworks!

Snowbirds over White Rock

Photos don't do them justice, but...

Saturday night fireworks show

Last night was the grand finale of Vancouver’s Symphony of Fire for 2007. I suppose China must have won, though really, how could they not – apparently they were previewing special effects for next year’s Olympics. With Vancouver as the next player in that particular money-eating exercise, well, really, China pretty much had to win.

I wasn’t dedicated enough to make the trek into the city, but settled instead for our hokey little Sea Festival fireworks show in White Rock. There were surprisingly few people down at the beach. I guess everyone else must have braved the traffic and buses and gone in for the biggies.

All in all, a lovely night seaside.