Think -- an idea whose time has come

Once again, it's Freedom to Read Week, an observance that doesn't get the attention it deserves. True, there are no parades, with people marching and proclaiming their right to read what they choose, but hmm. Maybe there ought to be.

Just yesterday, when I was featured in a public reading, presenting work from my own books, I chose to read a poem that had been challenged. It had been posted on the blog of an environmental group. But soon after it appeared, there were objections to its content, with several commenters insisting that the poem be removed from the site. Some went so far as to say the entire blog should be shut down.

Fortunately, thinking minds prevailed. The poem and blog remained online, the objections overruled. Oddly, the piece in question had been inspired by and based upon verses from the Bible. My head spins at the ironies unwinding. 

But for anyone who believes the idea of challenging -- or worse, out and out banning -- what we read is something that only happens in science fiction, think again. It doesn't take much to have a piece of writing be challenged. Looking over a list of 29 books books that have had to be pulled from libraries or classrooms in Canada, objections were based on "offensive language" or sometimes, "violence." In a number of instances the reasons cited were "unknown."

Some of the authors on the list will also surely surprise you (Laura Ingalls Wilder?!) as will some of the titles -- one in the Star Wars series, and another in the Chicken Soup for the Soul publications.

But if challenging titles over what some consider 'bad' words isn't enough to raise your ire, let's remember what happened to Jamal Khashoggi, the journalist who was tortured and executed last year. Freedom of the press is among the most basic of freedoms; some would argue it as the foundation of what we like to think of as democracy.

I hope you'll take some time this week -- and really, every week -- to think about the importance of our freedom to read. Just like the sign in the photo above, one the VPL created for its Freedom to Read campaign (back in 2014) suggests: "Think for yourself and let others do the same."And oh yes,  read exactly what you please.

First cut

Yesterday was so beautiful, I just had to do something outside.

It might have had something to do with the fact that in the morning I'd seen the first robin of the season. He looked to me like the same who built a nest here last year.

And maybe it was just the blue skies and warmer temps that got my blood moving, but something made me need to get out into the garden.

This time of year -- especially with bits of last week's snow still lingering -- it's not really time for much in the way of gardening. Even the weeds haven't poked up yet, but oh, there are always those blackberries, aren't there.

I managed to almost fill a garbage bin with clippings. Not quite what I'd consider a 'pruning' as I only removed the ends of branches that were still clinging to bunches of dried-out berries.

Still, it felt like a satisfying step towards welcoming spring.

Now I'm just hoping this afternoon's whitish skies don't mean we'll need to be looking at more of the white stuff.

Shoulda known better...

This photo of snowdrops in a planter box is one I took just over a week ago, on Saturday, Groundhog Day. Because I couldn't see my shadow cast across the blooms, I fell prey to believing that not seeing it meant that winter was just about over -- that we wouldn't have to wait another six weeks for spring breezes to be upon us.

But oh, silly me, look at what today looks like for those same snowy snow drops in the planter. The poor things are buried past their necks. Even the straggly geranium appears to have given up.

Yesterday we celebrated a dear friend's birthday -- with a nice supper and even a homemade cheesecake. Looking outside this morning, it looked like a yard full of birthday cakes, and all of them risen higher than yesterday's celebratory dessert.

I guess this must be what I get for trying to think like a groundhog.

I've always loved pigs

That's the start of a quote about pigs by an author I love, Maurice Sendak. It's there because today marks the lunar new year, this year beginning another Year of the Pig, to which I admit unabashedly, I'm proud to be one. According to some legends, pig is twelfth (not a problem for me, as that's my favourite number) because he overslept. Yep, that'd be me, all right.

Today's photo looks more like something I might have posted on the old "What's Fer Supper" blog, the site where I wrote about what we ate, every day for the year of 2009. Every once in a while, I still add something or other, like this post I did for Lunar New Year in 2015.


The past few days our produce stores, most of which carry an array of specialty Asian items, have been extra busy as families prepare for the feasts they will no doubt have this evening. This brunch of ours was much easier to make than it probably looks, as it's a mishmash of foods from our freezer and pantry. I certainly can't claim any skill with making Asian dumplings from scratch.

Depending upon what sign you might be, the Year of the Pig is supposed to be one that sees dramatic change. With an election here in Canada later this year, that's a strong possibility. But in case you're curious what changes might be in store for you, here's a site you can click on to find out.

A rear-view kind of day

That rear-view window isn't the view from a racecar, though that might have been fun, as racecar is a a palindrome, one of those words that are the same, whether you read them forwards or backwards.

It's just a rainy day shot I took from the back window of the SkyTrain, I think not too far from Metrotown in Burnaby. Since SkyTrain cars are driverless though, I have to wonder why there's a windshield wiper. But, whatever.

My reason for this backward glance is that today is National Backward Day -- not exactly a big cause for celebrating, but kind of fun sounding anyway. And I suppose if you poke around, you'll find that just about every day puts a focus on some kind of cause or event.

End of the month, already. Time to turn the calendar to February, the shortest month, which will likely zip past even more quickly than this first month of the year has.

Still, looking back can provide certain insights. Sometimes it's by looking back that we get a better idea of how we might go forward.

Backyard astronomy

Last night's lunar eclipse was pretty spectacular. The nice thing about an eclipse of the moon is that it takes place over a few hours and -- even better -- you can look at it without the risk of eye damage.

You can tell from the photo that I didn't have access to a tripod, so the slow exposure required meant that I moved, blurring the image. No amount of breath-holding or trying to 'freeze' seemed to make any difference. Still, I am pleased with the way the camera captured the bright red colour. No PhotoShop enhancement, I promise.

This hue is the obvious reason it's called a 'blood moon' and there are plenty of explanations available online about that term, as well the longer title applied to last night's manifestation (super blood wolf moon), including prophecies that might scare your pants off if you believe them.

I'm just glad we had clear skies last night and that it was warm enough to keep popping outside to look at it. Among quotes attributed to Snoopy is one where he refers to the moon as looking like a "dirty beach". That certainly wasn't the case last night.

There's a word for this mess

And I'm not referring to this blog of mine as a mess, or even the pile of dictionaries all askew on my table. Rather, to the state of things going on -- or, actually not going on -- in the U.S.

Weird though it may seem, one of the books I've been reading is all about words. Ammon Shea did the rest of us a favour and devoted a year to reading all twenty volumes of the OED. His resulting book, Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages is more entertaining than its title might suggest.

But back to the current mess, and the word I found in Shea's book: Kakistocracy. Its literal meaning: government by the worst people.

And to go with this new-found word (new for me, at least), a piece of newly penned doggerel:

Trumpty Dumpty wanted a wall,
so he shut down the government, paycheques and all.
No one in Congress or on CNN
could get him to start things over again. 

Rule of three

Not just because today is Orthodox Christmas (which is part of it) but for several other reasons, I'm celebrating.

One cause to celebrate is that today was garbage day in our neighbourhood. As you can see, we have three separate bins -- and ours (unlike most everyone else's) come in three sizes which I suppose you could call Papa Bear, Mama Bear, and Baby Bear.

Because we always have plenty of green waste -- branches and other debris from the many trees in our yard -- as well as food scraps from the kitchen, we have the extra-large size for organics.

The middle-sized one (standard issue from the city) is for recyclables. Because we still subscribe to a print news source, there's always plenty of paper. Tins, plastics, cardboard... well, there's always plenty of other items to put in there too.

The littlest one (a rarity, was even difficult to get from the city) is out and out garbage. Like the recycling, it only gets collected every two weeks.

This week, it was Mama's turn, the blue bin. Pretty much overflowing, mainly due to the crazy amount of (over)packaging from Christmas gifts. It got me wondering when all this plastic and cardboard and styrofoam nonsense began.

For sure, it had something to do with trying to prevent shoplifting. Remember those oversize containers for music CDs? A lot of that had to do with making it awkward for you to walk out of the store with a handful of them under your jacket, something that hadn't been such a problem when albums were still on vinyl.

And then there were the crazies who thought they were clever by messing around with bottled pills. Tampering with pain meds was the big one that got companies scared enough to add safety measures (packaging).

And the most recent excuse seems to be our addiction to online shopping, with the resulting packaging required for shipping.

When the blue bin went out this morning, it wasn't the only one on our street that looked to be overflowing. My resolution was to get rid of stuff, but this wasn't the kind of 'stuff' I had in mind. Still, I am grateful that the city has trucks that pick it up and take it away. As for where it goes, I can only hope.

But really, my main cause for celebrating this sunny Monday? For sure, my best reason of all is that a friend's cancer is beginning to retreat (yay!).

Looking...

The start of a new year, arbitrary though its 'newness' may be, based as it is strictly on the calendar, always seems a good time for taking stock.

Looking back at 2018 is sure to bring some sadness, but hopefully joys as well. There's plenty to be glad about having behind us -- for those of us here in BC (as well as for people in California) the wildfire season was horrific, one we certainly hope won't be a repeat. 

Although some predictions are zanier than others, looking ahead generally seems to inspire hope -- at least that's the direction I'm looking in.

As for resolutions, mine (probably be a repeat) is to get rid of stuff.

In my case, that's mostly old clothes and too many books. Something I'll have to report on twelve months from now. In the meantime, I need to get back to sorting the items I pulled out of my desk today -- everything from stamps and coins to unusable floppy disks!

Celebratory

Not a white Christmas here (photo from last year), but that's fine with me. A lovely one in so many ways, too many to list.

However you celebrate this season, I hope it is festive and stress-free.

Comin' back

Once again it's time to observe (and celebrate) the return of the light, an observance that goes back to a past much more ancient than Christmas. Just imagine the significance of someone realizing the turn of shadow that must have meant the sun, with its warmth, was coming back again.

After so much discouraging news this autumn (especially with yesterday's turn of events in Washington), we need all the light we can get.

Ya gotta have art...

Every now and then, it comes to my attention that the arts community doesn't get the respect it deserves. I'm not sure why this is, as it's hard for me to imagine what life would be like without having art in it.

Not long ago, the city where I live changed its mayor and council. It was all above board, a civic (and mostly civil even) election, nary a Russian influence peddler in sight, I am sure.

But along with the change of persons, it seems as if the new government may have lost its heart, especially when it comes to the A-R-T part of that word.

Tomorrow night the Council will be voting on their new budget, a pared-down plan that withholds funding for so many of those things that enliven and enrich our lives. The proposed plan fails to allocate monies to just about anything that might be deemed cultural -- the expansion of community centres, libraries and museums, even athletic facilities.

With our city's population growing by 1,000 people every month, it seems short-sighted in the extreme to be taking this hard-nosed stance. After all, isn't the administration of a city supposed to be there to benefit its citizens?

So why, you might be wondering, did I post a photo of a choir?

Besides being safely camouflaged in among the altos, I'm pleased that, as a result of our annual winter concert, we helped raise money for an important community-serving group whose funding has been cancelled, the Volunteer Cancer Drivers. Audience members made donations which were matched and then topped up by anonymous donor, resulting in a total of $8,000 for the cause.

I can only hope -- in particular during this season that's supposed to be about giving -- that tomorrow night's meeting will see a reversal of the current mindset and will loosen the purse strings to the benefit of everyone who lives here.

Fallen soldier

This week the first person who comes to mind for most people when they read today's subject header must be President Bush the Elder, George H W. And while it was good to hear the way he was eulogized on Wednesday, the fallen soldier I have in mind to day is my dad.

Had he still been alive, he'd have been turning 100 today. He was born in 1918 on the date that would later be called the Day of Infamy, Pearl Harbor Day.

It's hard to picture him being 100, as he died a long time ago -- by coincidence, at the same age I've now achieved -- and I can't imagine lasting to be 100 either.

Not long ago, while cleaning out old items from the attic, we came across an ancient suitcase -- one he'd used decades ago, complete with fading stickers affixed. Most of them were fairly straightforward: souvenirs of towns he'd visited, a university he'd briefly attended, and several others with meanings long gone obscure.

One I managed to track down was a sticker from C&S Air Lines. Another -- one I haven't been able to identify -- is, I suspect, from when he piloted a bomber during WWII. I'm guessing it as maybe meaning Overseas Bombing something-or-other.

It's hard for me to try to think of what life might be like (though I'm hoping human life will still exist) in 2118. And I'm sure that no one in 1918 could have envisioned what today's world would be. Happy what-would-have-been-your-100th-birthday, JB.

Season for recycling

It's again been the time of year when my friend and I make Christmas cards.

This year I took a somewhat different tack than usual. Rather than relying on the wealth of supplies I've accumulated over the years, I decided to try using as many 'old' cards as I could -- recycling them into 'new' cards by cutting and pasting and decorating them.

Some were easier to use than others -- nice, tight little designs that lent themselves to being reused, sometimes even in combination with bits from other cards.

The results, if I do say so, were pretty good, with a few I almost hate to send away.

And I'll admit, because I even tried to use cards from specific people to make 'new' cards that will go to them this year, it'll be interesting to see whether any of them notice their 'old' card coming back to them with happy holiday greetings.

Survivors

These little lettuces might be looking a little straggly, though you might too if you'd been living outside during the start of our rainy season.

Still, I'm pretty happy that a couple of these have hung in this long.

Two pots of geraniums are still blooming red out front, and I even picked a half-dozen raspberries the other day.

Survivors? Yes, but not for long, as tonight's salad bowl is looking a little empty -- but not for long!

Launched!

The last few days have been busy with a number of launches -- of books and even of venues.

Wednesday saw a packed house at Vancouver's Massy Books (a wonderful bookstore, filled with titles both classic and new), with Leslie Timmins and I both launching our new books of poetry. Leslie's is Every Shameless Ray, and mine the crazily-named Practical Anxiety.

But that wasn't the end of the week's launches, as Sunday was the day things really got rolling.

Rob Taylor launched What the Poets are Doing -- not to be mistaken for the Tragically Hip's always-cool song about the poets. Taylor's book provides readers with an updated version of a book from 2002, this time with more Canadian Poets in Conversation.

Sunday was also when Marion Quednau launched her new collection from Caitlin Press, Paradise, Later Years. That's a photo of her, signing copies of the book.

And oh yes -- for me at least -- one of the many exciting parts of the day was the 'launch' of Vancouver Public Library's new rooftop garden.

Nine floors up and views to forever.

One hundred years on

....since the end of the 'War to End All Wars'. Unfortunately, that idealistic name for World War One has not proven to be true. Numbers of how many died vary according to source, but taking into account civilians as well as military, 37 million is one figure I saw for casualties -- just about exactly our country's current population. If every single person in Canada were to suddenly die, the world would need to take notice.

This day of remembrance is filled with traditions, including the red poppy so many of us choose to wear as commemoration.

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow,
between the crosses row on row. 

The photo of the 'row' of poppies is from above the kitchen sink in our RV, The Rattler. We seem to often be on the road in early November, so poppies are often part of our apparel. It's good for me to know where a few extras are, as too often I seem to go out with the 'wrong' jacket -- with my poppy invariably on a different coat.

Right now, I can still hear a few of the big planes passing overhead. Earlier a tight formation of single-engine fighters went by. After that, I even saw a biplane -- the same kind of plane that actually flew in WWI.

But at the stroke of 11:00, I was listening to a different kind of sound. Turning on the radio, I was greeted by silence -- a sound (or lack thereof) that might have been disconcerting any other day.

I am sure the people in Syria would be glad to have their world quiet down. And not only Syria, but Afghanistan and far too many other places to name. It seems a bit crazy, but maybe we really will have to wait for extraterrestrials to visit for us to decide to live together in harmony and peace. Considering what bad shape we seem to be in, I'd like to think that maybe they're on their way.

The incredible stillness of silence

I'm not a golfer, but I admit to enjoying the walking part, as golf courses seem to always be beautiful places. Luckily, my partner (who's an awesome golfer) doesn't mind my tagging along, dragging only my camera for my usual nine-hole limit.

The photo above is from the course at Discovery Bay, and it's either the 13th or 14th hole. Whichever isn't all that important. The situation prompting this post is what mattered to me. The photo is from only a few seconds after the fact.

I'm not sure how I noticed it, but notice I did -- silence. Not a traffic sound, not a plane overhead, not even the sound of wind or an animal. The unusualness of the quiet managed to catch me off-guard.

It's not very often that total silence reigns. Even now, in the privacy of my office, besides the quiet taps of my fingers on the keyboard, there are sounds. Although the window's closed, I can hear a kind of humming from outside. Probably a machine, part of the ongoing construction our neighbourhood continues to endure. And another, the sound of a truck or other large vehicle passing a few blocks away.

How long did that momentary silence last? Twenty seconds? Maybe. I don't really know.

What ended it? I'm not even sure anymore, though I'm pretty sure it was a natural sound that broke the spell -- either a frog or a trill of birdsong. And soon after, I noticed the hum of traffic on the nearby road and then another of the little planes overhead.

The silence didn't last long, but its effect was deep and something I won't forget. For that small but precious interval, I'd witnessed something I don't get enough of, and experienced myself as a part of it. Exhale. Ahhh.

Abandoned

Dusk on a greyish Tuesday, when I'm on my way to the jail where I volunteer. This field full of forgotten pumpkins looked so lonesome, I had to stop and take a quick snap. A little fuzzy, to be sure -- even a little bit crooked -- but maybe that's appropriate, especially for where I was headed.

These pumpkins looked to me like orphans of a sort. Abandoned. Not big enough or pretty enough to get picked when the rest of the field was harvested for jack-o-lanterns. The ones left behind.

Just as I often wonder what will happen to the men I work with once they get out, I wonder what will happen to these pumpkins next week.

A forager's delight

This month has been a great one for foraging. And yes, those giant puffballs we found when we were visiting in Ontario were mighty tasty. Sliced into strips and pan fried, they were actually meaty -- like I might imagine the vegetarian version of a steak.

Today was another perfect day for tromping around in the bush, poking about for edible treats here in BC. The recent rains had encouraged all sorts of mycelia to sprout their fruiting bodies (what we think of as mushrooms). Even though most of them aren't safe to eat, that doesn't mean they aren't pretty enough to want to take photos of them -- like these, some kind of variation related to a chanterelle, but not one that I would want to sample.

Besides finding some lovely, fresh parasol mushrooms which will definitely feature in tonight's supper, there were also some chestnuts which might have been fun as a woodland appetizer if it weren't for the fact that they're horse chestnuts -- not fit for human consumption. Still, the patterns on their shells are as beautiful as any finely burnished wood.

But the best find of all was a pocketful of windfall apples. With some careful paring (sure, there were little bruises and flaws), they're now in the oven, baking their way into a pie for dessert.

PS Please be sure, if you're picking in the wild, to follow the rules. Use a guidebook -- or better yet, go with someone who knows what's edible and what's not. As the adage goes: There are some things you only eat once (because once you eat them, you're dead).

Long time comin'

Finally. After waiting for too many years -- at least since 1972, when the LeDain Commission recommended it -- marijuana has been made legal in Canada.

The move is certainly not without problems, and is already starting to create some new ones without even trying. Distribution is one of the biggest, especially here in BC where there is currently only one official store. It's in Kamloops, about a four-hour drive for most of us who live in the Lower Mainland. The government has established an online supply source, though I don't understand how deliveries will be made, as the government liquor stores don't deliver, but clearly this 'store' must.

Differences in how the law is being interpreted in various provinces present yet another set of complications. While most of us will be allowed to grow four plants per household (poor timing though, as this isn't exactly the season for throwing seeds into the ground), some provinces have banned the practice.

So even though I'm not about to run out into the street to smoke a big fat joint, I am going to breathe more easily, firm in the belief that as a society we've taken a step towards becoming more grown-up and civilized. As for what comes next, we'll just have to wait and see.

The Road from Paris to London

...But maybe not the road you were expecting.

We've been spending the last while tucked away on the family farm, nestled along the highway between Paris and London, but it's Paris and London, Ontario.

A great place for observing Thanksgiving, especially with so many family members coming from near and far to celebrate. And all of it has been enhanced by the brights colours coming out in the trees and the wonderfully blue skies.

Last night things took a bit of change, as it was the book launch for my newest book of poems, Practical Anxiety.

The Hamilton bookstore where the event took place, Epic Books, proved to indeed be epic. Friends and family filled the place, along with a number of new friends. We even had a musician to set the mood for listening.

Memorable.

A positive approach

For all the grumbling people often do about transit, ours seems to be doing a few things right. Considering the infrastructure (or lack thereof) they're up against, they've done a good job of getting me where I need to be, without my needing to fight traffic to get there.

Lately, our local transit provider, Translink, has taken some interesting steps towards making the ride even smoother for riders.

Getting people to behave better on trains and buses has come a long way. For a number of weeks we've had Seth Rogen as the voice of reminders (along the lines of the one in the photo above) to help people remember their manners. His 'presence' even gave me an easy option for dealing with a guy whose backpack was taking up the seat next to him, when the train was standing-room only. All I had to do was smile and say, "Seth Rogen says, carry your pack on your lap so others can sit." No fuss, no crabbiness -- and it worked!

This week, Translink is celebrating "I Love Transit" Week. As part of this, kids in Grades K-12 ride free through Friday, October 5th. And they're even having a colouring contest -- for 'kids' of all ages. One category is for kids 15 and under, with another for those of us 16 and over. The prizes -- what else, transit passes.

PS The images used in the campaign program are based on art created by students at Vancouver's Emily Carr University of Art and Design (ECCAD). Credit for the one at the top goes to S.Wilson.

Shifting gears

Yesterday was one of the most beautiful days ever. The sky was blue, the temp was warm enough for shorts and T-shirts, the breeze was gentle and sweet. Only the long shadows served to remind that the days are getting shorter.

Good thing I got out and into it, as today's skies have taken on a change.

Cloudy and grey, with occasional gusts of wind, it seems as if the weather is telling us it's time for a new month, one that's well and truly autumn.

The dry bits of keys from the cedar trees have even started to fall, the equivalent here, I suppose, of leaves to be raked. For now, they can stay a while, golden in the yard.

Getting set for this year's equinox

Seeing the moon half full (I'd never think of it as half-empty) the other night reminded me it's just about time for this autumn's equinox, the date when both sides of our twenty-four hours are equal.

I'd somehow thought it would be September 21st, but no -- it's the 22nd, and apparently nearly always is. Readers of this blog will know that I nearly always observe the solstices and equinoxes, with small, personal rituals. Mine aren't necessarily the usual ones people follow; most of mine have to do with various sorts of maintenance.

One that goes along with the autumn one is the pruning of the hibiscus trees which have grown too big to come back into the house, where they'll be safe from the weather over the winter. That pile of greenery above is from just one of them, and now that it's inside I can see that I still need to do some more trimming.

We also had the arborist come in to prune some of our big trees -- the spruce and the cedars out front, the ones that help us pretend we live in a little forest.

Weirdly, I suppose, the equinoxes (and solstices) are also when I change the filters on our water dispenser. Reminders from the sun seem less disciplinarian than other kinds might feel.

And maybe the strangest one of all is the fact that even I had a 'pruning' of sorts with a comfy new haircut that feels fresh and ready for a season of new beginnings.

So, maybe a little bit early, but happy autumn. May it bring a harvest of happy things.

A day for brown

With all the worries about Hurricane Florence and impending power outages, I came across the word 'brownout' -- a term describing those moments when the power fades, sometimes going in and out, a sign that's often a precursor to a true power-out event -- vaguely the opposite of a power surge.

Yet with all the current worries about the storm, which I suspect will be ongoing, I managed to find a small piece of good news for today. Who would have thought there'd be a day to celebrate the glories of chocolate! But yes,there is such a date and this is it. If you want to learn more about chocolate, the Smithsonian takes this treat seriously enough to have an extensive article on its history.

Hoping you'll find a way to taste some today, though probably any other day it will be just as yummy. (Oh, and as for those googly eyes, they're a pair of early Halloween treats looking up at you.)

The scents of summer's end

There's something special about the light this time of year -- slanting and more golden than at summer's peak. Along with that light comes the many scents that signal the changing season.

The scent of apples and other fruits ready for harvest (all those juicy prunes, the last of the berries) tells me it's September.

Technically, I guess the tomatoes are actually fruits, even though I still think of them as vegetables and oh my, they have a scent that's all their own (a little bit metallic, strongly 'green' -- so hard to describe).

The other time of year when I'm most attentive to scent are those early mornings in June. There's a freshness in the air that's different from any other time of year (at least in my mind).

Considering these two seasons when my nose tells me so much makes me realize these scents might all be related to school -- the one when school is going back and the other when freedom is imminent.

And this now leads me to wonder where 'an apple for the teacher' got its beginnings. And regardless of that, I'm heading outside to pick some more berries and choose a few of those reddening tomatoes for tonight's salad.

A day to celebrate!

The photo is from Saturday -- an event on Burnaby Mountain, calling attention to some of the many reasons why the new pipeline should not be built.

And today comes the stunning news that the Federal government's plan to build that pipeline has hit a wonderful snag.

Not too surprisingly, Kinder Morgan's shareholders just voted (99% in favour) to approve the sale of this seemingly doomed pipeline to us, the Canadian taxpayers.

Looks like Justin made a humdinger of an error, committing $4.5 billion to this outdated project.

Maybe with this much money flying off to a company in Texas, Mr Trudeau might have to think about resigning. Clearly, too many of us made a mistake in believing the promises he made.

Practising for Life on Mars

That's pretty much what it's looked like. Smoke from all the wildfires, to the South and North and West have managed to fill the skies with a fog-like blanket. Only it's not the benign mist fog usually carries. This is smelly -- I guess, the smell of carbon.

The photo looks a lot like a harvest moon. Only it isn't the moon. It's the afternoon sun. The light it cast was eerie enough that even the birds went into hiding. The last time I saw that happen was almost exactly a year ago, during last August's solar eclipse.

Maybe the reason I'm thinking this orangey light seems like Mars is that it was only a couple of weeks ago I again saw the Matt Damon movie, The Martian.

Rain -- or at least the possibility of precipitation -- has been hinted at for this coming weekend. Considering we've barely had a drop since June, it would be a welcome relief.

And when there's enough of it, it will (we all hope) clear the air and douse the fires that are burning up our province and so much of the coast.

Rain. Even on Mars, they're thinking they've found water. It's time we get some here again.

The art of being lazy

Even the dog on the porch, though he's a statue, knows enough to stop and smell the flowers.

Paddling a canoe on the lake today, a man who clearly understands the spirit of holidays was lying on his paddleboard, just floating, maybe meditating.

Taking a break from life's demands has to be good for us. Otherwise, why would I be posting such an abbreviated blog. Just another aspect of bein' lazy. 

Ubiquitous

That's a word we often hear. Ubiquitous. It's everywhere.

I know. It's a lot more than plastic straws that are ruining the oceans.

Everywhere I look I see plastic. My toothbrush, the phone, this computer I am typing on. Bread comes in plastic bags, so do cherries, tortillas, potatoes...

My feeble efforts to collect and recycle my plastic bags seem almost stupid, they are so insignificant. What eensy difference can taking my little bundle of bags to the recycling centre mean?

Would it really make any difference if everyone bothered to do this? Somehow, it's hard for me to believe it would.

Still, I am sure that I will carry on, trying to avoid plastic when I can -- whether a straw or a shopping bag. And when I gather a bunch of them, I will take them to the place where I believe (trust may be the more accurate word) someone takes them away to a place where they get converted into fleece jackets or maybe just more plastic bags.

If nothing else, I suppose it will at least help me feel a little better. If only it would make the ocean feel better.

Outdoor art

One of the joys of having a house with a yard is being able to sit outside in the cool of the afternoon. When the experience includes reading a book, it's even better. 

When the experience has me looking up from the book, watching a single-engine plane soaring above, I get a small vicarious thrill, can feel the tilt of the wings riding the currents of air. 

And even, just sitting, my eye meets one of the pieces of art we have on and around the house. Right now I can't be sure which artwork I love more -- the painting of Vancouver or the straggly legs of bolting lettuce casting shadows against the wall.  

Dreams can come true

It's been one of my small dreams to have a Little Free Library in our neighbourhood. Now, at long last, my wish has come true.

It took a bit of poking around and finagling, but I managed to get through to the right people -- and voila, it's reality.

Both Surrey Parks and the local Rotary Club made the project come together so nicely, and really, I have to say that I'm very pleased with how it looks.

Aside from the fact that it's so darn cute, I'm especially happy that the 'building' itself was constructed by men at the jail where I volunteer. Something about this makes me feel that things in my life are going as they should, and moving in full circle.

Because it had been in storage for a while, the little library's paint needed a bit of freshening up. While I was wielding my brush, a number of people came by to say they were very happy that our park now has one of these. And yesterday, when I was putting the books in, even more people came by and commented favourably.

I made a little sign for the inside of the doors which I hope will encourage neighbours to contribute books of their own.

And I'm hoping this Little Free Library will contribute as part of the feeling of community that our area is starting to grow -- starting this evening with a Free Community Picnic sponsored by the City. Yay, Surrey!

Not exactly 'feathering one's nest'

No doubt you've heard that phrase, 'feathering one's nest' and pretty much always with negative connotations.

The phrase that applies in today's instance should probably be 'flowering one's nest' as that's almost exactly what a pair of robins has done in our front yard.

They made several attempts to build their nest in our gazebo, but since we spend so much time out there in the summer -- reading, eating meals, visiting with friends -- we did all we could (in gentle, kind ways, of course) to discourage them from nesting there. Some of the tricks included putting large candles (not burning, I promise), baskets, even a stuffed animal along the ceiling beams, so there wouldn't be room enough for them to construct a nursery.

But, because they obviously liked the 'neighbourhood' they decided to stay. And where did they build but in a hanging basket of flowers.

I'll admit, it's made it awkward to keep the plants watered. Luckily, a few days ago, nobody was home for a long enough time that I took the planter down to give it a bit of drink. There, enclosed within the perfect circle of the nest were two turquoise eggs. Shortly after that, the robin came back. It was almost as if she'd left for a while so I could look after the plants.

At this point, the little family-on-the-way is our priority because really, where the flowers are mostly annuals, it's not the end of the world if a few don't make it.

I've been doing my best to be quiet when I'm nearby, though the birds seem to be mostly accustomed to our comings and goings. It's as if they recognize that we mean them no harm, and I have certainly come to recognize the bright bead of the robin's eye, watching as I go by.

And oh dear, this morning I felt some pangs of guilt while eating my breakfast outside on the deck. Toast with a hard-boiled egg -- from a chicken, not a robin, but still. I was hoping the little mama's shining eye wasn't focused on me.

Diversionary tactics

Maybe it's just one of the perils of summer, but I've not been getting as much work done as I mean to. The problem? Falling prey to too many diversions.

Some of these are reasonable, and go along with the season. Keeping up with the garden, whether that's watering or pruning or trying to deadhead lettuces before they bolt into flower (though those are yummy too). And there's been plenty of berries bought or even picked (27 pounds of raspberries), and processed into jams packed into the freezer for winter treats.

Other of these diversions are less productive. As the finals of the World Cup draw nearer, the call of the television gets harder to ignore.

And oh dear, witness the jigsaw puzzle above. Sure, I assembled it in between rounds of dealing with the actual strawberries, but it wasn't a very fruitful way to spend the time.

And that missing piece from the middle of the picture. I wonder whether that nagging bit of unfinished business should serve to remind me that, even though it's summer, I can't fall into too many bad habits. Projects still need to be completed. Deadlines still need to be met.

Oh, but where it's greyish and drizzly this morning, maybe I can get away with just one more day of frittering.