How is this an improvement?

The world is changing -- especially in the part of the world where I live. Not so very long ago, this lot held a modest house and a number of trees stood in the yard. Not any more.

I'm no fortune-teller, but I'm pretty sure there will soon be a very large house rising here -- one that will extend to the farthest legal reaches of the lot, both sides and back.

Interestingly, the people who live in the modest house just next door are apparently planning to stay, as they are in process of installing a new roof.

Something seems very wrong when houses that are barely forty years old are demolished, just so extreme (some call them 'monster') homes can be erected. It seems to me that if I wanted a mega-mansion, I'd want to build it on a piece of land worthy of such a house, and not squeeze it in on a lot in a neighbourhood where it doesn't look at all like it wants to be part of the same community.

Are deer smarter than people?

When it comes to crossing the road, this deer looks smarter than many of the human pedestrians I see.





For a start, the deer actually looks in the direction of oncoming traffic to see whether it's safe to step out (also note: the deer is not wearing earbuds, nor is it texting).

Once having determined that it's safe, the deer steps carefully toward the crosswalk.

Halfway across the road, checking again -- this time, looking the other way for oncoming traffic.

Okay, getting there --

What do you suppose the chances are this deer could give lessons to people?

What a weekend!

It was such a busy weekend, it's taken a few days for me to catch my breath and do a posting.

The photo is from Friday night, downtown Vancouver in the rain. I was on my way to attend the opening night of an opera (yes, moi, an opera!) at SFU's Experimental Theatre, a performance of 'air india [REDACTED]' a production by the Turning Point Ensemble.

Irish composer Jurgen Simpson created the opera, using words from Renee Sarojini Saklikar's children of air india as the libretto. The performance is, to put it mildly, powerful, with a full orchestra (or, what looks like one to my untrained eye) creating the threatening mood required by the story. This is, after all, the story of a plane brought down by a terrorist's bomb.

The mood is enhanced by the almost-eerie voice of Daniel Cabena, a voice that's classified as a counter-tenor -- to my ear, it could have been a female voice -- that's how clear and high-pitched it was.

But enough of the show. You can read reviews that describe and interpret it better, I am sure.

Saturday had been a day I'd been looking forward to: a symposium to brainstorm/discuss what the city of Surrey might look like in 2030 -- or, as organizers put it, a chance to play at being a city planner. Unfortunately, aside from meeting some interesting people, the day proved to be a disappointment.

For one thing I was stuck at a table forced to discuss a topic that would have been pretty much at the bottom of my priorities for the day (crime and safety, ugh, can you say 'Steve Harper' yet again?).

And, as I have long suspected, 'tools' put out for us to work with included Lego. I'm firm in my beliefs that too many of our traffic/mall design problems have resulted from planners using 'Lego-thinking' in their plans -- that they fail to consider how their designs will function once people and/or cars come into the equation.

Happily, I was at least able to end the weekend on a satisfying note, working on homemade Christmas cards with one of my best buddies.

We did it!

Earlier today, I had the privilege of breaking out of my usual pattern by watching daytime TV. The reason? Our new prime minister, Justin Trudeau, was being sworn in. This felt like history-in-the-making.

Already, from seeing the members of his cabinet and from hearing his responses to questions from the press, it appears that we really are going to get our country (and all it's always stood for) back. No more one-man rule.

Hurrah and onward!

Boo!

This is one of the pumpkins greeting trick-or-treaters at our door tonight. So far, we've had 29 little raiders, ooops -- there's a new batch!

Best costumes so far were worn by a group of five girls who looked like they'd just stepped out of lessons at Hogwarts, including one who was willing to admit she was from Slytherin. Luckily for us, they promised no evil spells.

For me, the scariest part of this Halloween might be that the shots I took today might be the last ones I get with my longtime faithful Nikon point-and-shoot. The other day I spotted a crack in its body, never a good sign for a camera.

In the meantime, safe flying to witches everywhere and Happy Halloween!

Someone special

Today is the anniversary of the day that George's grandmother died. Yesterday would have been her birthday. It seems odd how the two dates are so very near. Celebrating one's birth on one day, dying the next.

But then maybe that's the way life is for all of us. A span of eighty, even a hundred years, is nothing on the timeline of the cosmos.

And maybe I'm just thinking on this kind of scale owing to an animation that came to my attention yesterday. It illustrates just how tiny we really are in the grand scheme of things.

And yes, that's a candle we have burning for her in our kitchen, the part of the house she always knew best. A bit of whisky in a glass for her, along with fresh fruit -- the one in front is a quince, something she liked to bake with.

Canada, renewed

Last night's election results are still reverberating across the country. News coverage of the change seems non-stop, all of it about going forward. It's as if a weight has been lifted. Even the sun has come out.

Two bits of oddness were handed to me by the Universe today.

One arrived while I was sorting a box I'd run across while cleaning my office. I found some items wrapped in newspaper, some personal treasures I'd put away when we travelled in 2011 and rented out our house. The date on the paper affirmed this theory, March 9, 2011. A headline on a letter to the editor caught my eye, The Government of Harper.

The letter, sent by Jeanette Campbell of Mission, B.C. read:

     The media announced recently that federal civil servants were ordered in a December 2010 directive that all federal communications, such as press releases, had to replace the words "the Government of Canada" in their missives with "The Harper Government."

     Have Canadians lost their identity and sense of national sovereignty and pride?

     Prime Minister Stephen Harper appears to think so. Incandescent outrage?

     You'd better believe it. Next misnomer on the plate for Canadians? You guessed it! President Harper. 

Fortunately, things didn't sink low enough for her last prediction to come true. But 'incandescent outrage'? Yes. That seems to be the reason we've had this wonderful change to the Government of Canada.

As for that other bit of oddness sent my way -- it arrived in the post, an opportunity to renew my subscription to a magazine. Yep, Harper's.

Disappointing

Last night was a presentation by four of the six candidates running for election in our riding. The topic for the evening's discussion was homelessness and housing. But nearly all of the answers they gave were discouraging in the fact that they were such non-answers.

Or, if they did respond to the topic, they gave answers that were much more applicable to other, faraway parts of the city.

It was as if they all lived in the same protected little cottage, one that's covered so completely in flowering ivy it's impossible to see out.

Not one of the candidates alluded to the biggest issue in this part of the city: the fact that so many perfectly good houses are being torn down to make way for an ever-increasing number of monster houses.

If these new homes were even occupied by people who planned to stay in the neighbourhood and become part of the community, things might be different. But no, it seems inevitable that within 12 to 18 months, they get flipped.

Trees are coming down and crime is going up.

But did these candidates have anything to say about this? Not a peep.

Han Shan Project -- revisited

It was just about two years ago that poets from around the world heard the call sent out by Susan McCaslin, a writer from Fort Langley, B.C.

She'd learned that the Township of Langley had plans to sell off a tract of forest, and that once sold it would be developed for 'estate' housing. Because Susan knew how valuable this forest was -- how important it would be as greenspace for future generations -- she set about organizing the Han Shan Project.

Poets from as far away as Australia submitted poems. Susan and her husband printed out the poems, put them into plastic sleeves and suspended them from trees throughout the forest.

Soon the project received national press (thanks in large part to the involvement of artist Robert Bateman) and hurrah, the forest was saved. Then, even more miraculously, Langley's Blaauw family stepped forward to purchase a second tract of the forest, ensuring a sustainable number of trees would endure. The bench in the picture above shows a bench dedicated to the memory of Thomas Blaauw, whose estate funded the purchase.

Trinity Western University, now charged with caretaking the forest, has sponsored a symposium -- some of which has reported on confirmation of endangered species discovered in the forest. To celebrate, they have remounted the Han Shan Project, again hanging poems from the trees.

Just as the first time this decoration-of-the-forest occurred, the feeling created is magical.

The poems will be on display in the forest until early December.

Election worries

A federal election is approaching. Unfortunately, it might not get here soon enough to save us.

Overly dramatic thinking? Maybe.

But again, maybe not.

Meetings to finalize details of the Trans-PacificPartnership are about to take place in Atlanta – too soon to have representatives from our (hopefully) new government in attendance.

Instead, Canada will be represented by Ed Fast, Minister for International Trade (and the Pacific Gateway) in the current regime, the self-proclaimed (by the PM himself) “Harper Government”.  

I’m still wondering how it’s fair or democratic for a government that’s long since dismissed its still-currently-elected Members of Parliament to act on the world stage as if it’s still in power.

When it comes to my vote, it will likely once again be a wasted one, as the candidate in our riding appears to be a shoo-in.

Dianne Watts served as the Mayor of Surrey for nearly a decade, and on many accounts, seemed to do a good job. When she announced her plans to run federally, I wasn’t alone in thinking she would run for the Liberal Party of Canada (not to be confused with BC’s provincially based so-called ‘Liberal’ Party).

We looked forward to the thought that our riding would finally be rid of the do-little Member of Parliament we’ve had for the last three terms and thought that Watts might bring a semblance of actual representation to us. But then Watts surprised us by announcing she was running for Harper’s Conservatives.

She’s had some less than stellar moments during the campaign, notably thanks to a pamphlet bearing her name and likeness that raged about ISIS being the greatest threat to everyone in our riding, as if it were the most important issue this election.

It seems more than worrisome that she could be elected on what appears to be almost a non-campaign, one that's based on a platform of fear and the fact that she’s a ‘name’ around here. And even more frightening to consider what our country will become if the Tory government regains power.

As Heather Mallick commented in an article in the September issue of Harper’s magazine (no resemblance whatsoever to our Prime Minister), if the Conservatives get into office again, there might be a few of us thinking about moving to Denmark. 

What a kick-off!

Launch. Whoever dreamed up that term for welcoming a book to the world couldn't have had a better site in mind than SFU's Harbourside branch. What better place for a launch, than beside Burrard Inlet, looking out over the water.

On Wednesday evening, a new anthology, The Revolving City, was launched there.

That site was doubly appropriate as the anthology presents poems by writers who have participated in SFU's popular Lunch Poems series -- and the venue for those readings is barely outside the door where the celebratory launch was held.

As with any such collection, many people were involved in bringing the book to fruition. One of those is Kim Gilker, the photographer in the image above. She's taking a picture of George Bowering, as he's reading a wonderful poem from the book by the recently-deceased Jamie Reid.

The poem suits the image, as it's a powerful rant piece called "Prayer" with the following lines that repeat as part of the chorus.

LET THE SKY ESCAPE
   LET THE SKY ESCAPE
      LET THE SKY ESCAPE
         LET THE SKY ESCAPE AT LEAST
            AT LEAST LET THE SKY ESCAPE PLEASE AT LEAST
               LET THE SKY ESCAPE

And yes, the poem is all in caps, so is probably meant to be shouted across the universe.

The sky glowering in the background as sunset approaches seemed the just-right companion to Bowering's reading.

And this event was just the first in the four days of this year's Word Vancouver event. What a great start to it. If you're in range of Vancouver, maybe I'll see you Sunday at Library Square.

On retreat, an annual affair

One of my favourite weeks of the year is the one I get to spend on retreat with my writing group. We've been doing this every September for more years than I'm sure of -- at least five.

This year saw us in a different setting (we usually go to Nanaimo, on Vancouver Island), as one of our brainy members found us a house to rent in Whistler. I'll admit that I felt some trepidation, as I've never felt quite 'upscale' enough to be part of what I'd imagined as the Whistler scene.

The house we were in was comfortably nestled into a hillside of trees, so I felt at home right away.

The trail system was terrific, the village barely a kilometre from 'our' house. I even managed to get relaxed enough (thanks maybe to a fabulous massage I had at one of the local businesses) to enjoy poking my nose into some of the village shops.

And those trails led plenty of other places besides the village. The 'bouquet' above, placed on the 'vase' of a large rock outside our front door was comprised of bits of wildflowers, rose hips and pine cones gathered during foresty walks.

I'm pretty sure all of us accomplished the writing we'd aimed to get done. And best of all, I think we all came away refreshed and looking forward to a 'new year' of writing.

When the clouds made their way down the mountain on Saturday, each of us made our way down the Sea to Sky Highway, homeward, our heads filled with mountain air and memories, just about in time for the autumn Equinox.

Thoughts on a long weekend

The scents in the air have changed. Thankfully, there's no longer any hint of the smokiness we had during the worst of the forest fires. But it's more than just the clearing of the atmosphere now that we've finally had some rain.

It's a new scent, one that's sweet, something like apples slowly baking in the oven. But it's not a scent from the kitchen that I'm meaning -- it's a scent that fills the outdoors.

Yesterday we took a long walk through Campbell River Valley Park in Langley. Many branches and big limbs were still down from last weekend's storm, but staff had done an amazing job of clearing the trails.

Today saw our 'outside time' here at the house. Picking the ripened quince, pruning some of the bushes and trees, taking down the tent and packing it away for next year.

But just as during yesterday's stroll, being outdoors today has again been a time for thinking.

Probably more so than in January, this always seems like a time for beginnings, and is likely the reason Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, has always made such good sense to me. This year that isn't observed until next weekend, but where I had challah bread last weekend, I'm feeling a kind of symmetry, and thinking this weekend -- sandwiched between those two -- is 'my' new year.

There've been other years when this has been the weekend for writing (or trying to write) a Three-Day Novel, though that hasn't been on this year's agenda.

This year's thoughts are quieter and much less frantic. Listening to the birds, noticing the angle of the changing sunlight and, oh yes, just breathing in those sweet autumny smells.

Exhale

Well, this time the weather people were right about the rain. It started yesterday morning and came down pretty much all through the night. Hurrah!

With this end to the drought, it feels like I can exhale. There's something about waiting (and waiting) for rain that makes me feel like I have to hold my breath. I guess I must be acclimatized to where I live.

Along with the wet came a whole lot of wind, but we were among the lucky ones. None of our trees came down (huge ones at a friend's place did, crushing her deck), just a lot of small branches, spruce cones and cedar bits.

Our power was out for nearly 24 hours, but we're pretty well set to deal with those sorts of emergencies. Still, it was a good wake-up call -- enough of one that the generator has been tuned up and is set for the next round of whatever.

The garden sure looks happy though and the trees appear to be smiling again. Me too.

Canada Dry

And I don't mean the ginger ale.

When people learn where I live (not far from Vancouver), they often remark on the weather, and ask how I can bear all the rainfall.

But this year has been different. It seems as though it's hardly rained since April.

We've been visiting a friend on nearby Salt Spring Island where water supply in the summertime is often precarious.

As with the Lower Mainland, it's dry, dry, dry here. I can only hope this poor parched azalea (or is it a rhododendron?) will recover once the drought comes to end.

They keep predicting rain, but it hasn't been panning out. The skies will darken, and then the clouds will pass.

Hmm. Can you say 'climate change'?

Getting touristical

When out-of-town visitors come to stay, it's almost obligatory to tour them around to see a few sights. When they're from out of country, the stakes go higher.

When my sister visited recently, we started off by heading for Vancouver Island. Sure, we visited some of the usual mid-island spots -- Cathedral Grove, Englishman River Falls, Goats-on-the-Roof at Coombs.

But then she expressed a desire to visit some of the attractions mentioned in some of the brochures, and I'll admit it, I balked. The thought of greenhouse with butterflies in it did not leave me eager to drive further down the road. I'm an appreciator of nature, but this didn't really tempt me, especially after we'd been disappointed by two other similar-sounding places -- both of which were supposed to be wildlife rescue sites. The first of these looked too scary to go into; the second held more examples of taxidermy than live specimens.

Then, though the butterfly place didn't look all that tempting from the parking lot, we decided to take a chance and go in. Not only were there butterflies in profusion, they were surrounded by tropical plants filled with blossoms. Heck, there was even calming music. Butterfly World and Gardens. Worth it? For sure. Sometimes it pays to take a chance on being a touristy tourist.

Lego Surrey

Among current exhibits at the Surrey Museum is one assembled (literally) by a group of Lego enthusiasts. This image is one of many that envision Surrey's past, future -- or, as this one indicates, its present.

The club's creations go back to the Ice Age and forward into a future that's not altogether happy looking, despite supposed changes to what our energy sources will be.

Still, it's a thought-provoking batch of pieces (and yes, thousands and thousands of pieces of Lego), resulting from hundreds of hours of work. Worth taking in -- and the price is right: Free!

Poetic feet

Iambs? Dactyls? Not that kind of poetic feet. The feet with the beautiful blue toenails belong to poet Sandy Shreve.

She's just released a new book of poems, Waiting for the Albatross. The book, which she calls a collection of found poems, is based on words her father wrote in 1936 when he was 21, working as a deckhand on a freighter.

It becomes clear that 80 years ago, when Jack Shreve kept those journals, there was time to observe life more closely. He notes clouds, sea birds, a shark swimming belly-up. But maybe that was just who he was -- a careful observer. I can't help but wonder whether some of that might be because he didn't have television or all the other screens we devote so much of our attention to -- screens that so often seem to keep us from the real world, from things that matter.

But back to the book. It's enhanced by black-and-white photos. Many of them are of her father and his fellow labourers on the freighter where he worked during those days when he was keeping that diary which Sandy used as source material.

So what have her feet got to do with anything?

While she was sharing some of the poems with a group of us, the day was hot and she'd kicked off her shoes. While she sat straight in her chair, holding the book and reading to us, her feet were gesticulating to the words -- every bit as eloquently as hands might have been.

I suppose it would have been more fun to have a video of those expressive feet in action, but somehow it would have been too intrusive on the gathering. You'll just have to buy the book and imagine those feet in action, swinging to the sounds of Sandy's (and her dad's) poetry.

Revisiting the (almost) 100 foot diet

Back when I used to keep my supper blog, there was a night I did an experiment in eating food that had grown in our yard. I called it the 100-foot diet.

While that wasn't quite the case with last night's meal -- the bit of couscous was from the other night, as was the eggplant spread (though it was full of onions from the yard). The bread was a cheat as well, though from a bakery not so very far away.

Still, the beans (two kinds), little tomatoes and all of the berries (blackberries, raspberries and one humongous strawberry) were all just freshly picked in time for supper.

Ah, summertime!

The House that Birdie Built

We have a bird living with us this summer. Earlier, she tried building a nest on a ledge in the gazebo, but that one didn't work out. This time she's taken up lodging in behind a potted begonia.

Where the last posting here featured the front door of our house, it seems only fair to give the same treatment to the back door. And really, this nest (hidden) is not even a metre from where we go in and out to the back yard.

I can only surmise that Birdie must have been watching decorator shows on tv, as really, this spot seems more about looks than practicality. Not only does she have pink begonia blossoms, every now and then she has waterfall sound effects, as there's a shower just inside the bathroom (nearest) window.

The little mother seems to have grown used to us, though we do try to be quiet when we pass by her
home. And watering the plant has become an exercise in precision so as not to flood her home while keeping the plant alive.

Not exactly something that should show up on Dress My Nest, but Birdie has certainly made herself a a very pretty home.