Midsummer Bee-yoo-tee

Perhaps it's just part of being a contrarian, but I can't help wondering why today (or maybe tomorrow) isn't the day called 'midsummer' as in Midsummer Night's Dream. After all, August 4th is pretty much midway between solstice and equinox -- in other words, the middle of summer, i.e., midsummer. 

The midsummer festival is apparently a very big thing in many places, especially in Sweden, with much in the way of eating and drinking and even doing a sort of 'froggy' dance as part of their celebrations. 

This year, as part of my trying to learn more about this observance (as truly, it has puzzled me a long time, at least as far back as Woody Allen's A Midsummer Night's Sex Comedy), I poked around and even found a novel The Hidden Beach. 

The book is set in Sweden, and the festivities feature prominently. Unfortunately, I only made it about halfway through, as the sub-plot proved to be overly romantic for me. Maybe I gave up too soon, but really, an awful lot of other books are always calling to me. 

As for me, I think I will do my own celebrating tonight. The moon is nearly full, and we're just about exactly halfway along the path from summer solstice to the arrival of autumn on September 22nd. Until then, I'll keep picking blackberries while the bees buzz their work-songs in my ear, and be glad that we're all still able to spend so much time outside. 

More of what we're calling the 'new normal'

This is the way authors now go about promoting their books -- with a virtual reading and conversation. 

I can't really say that I'm complaining, especially not today, when it's hot outside (at least for here, 28 degrees), so travel into Vancouver (had he been present, and not online) would have been miserable. I would likely still be caught in traffic or riding a train or bus, trying to get home.

Though really, for a chance to hear David Mitchell, a writer I quite love (having read all but one of his novels), I may well have braved the travel, especially where this latest one, Utopia Avenue, is set in the 1960s, an era I know all too well. There was talk of the "strange convergence" between much of what's happening now, and all that was happening then -- change, change, and more change.

The conversation was meaty (and fun) enough to keep me feeling I've had a small fix of literary entertainment, something I can never quite get enough of.

Part of signing up for this particular Zoom event included the option of buying the new book, but drat, it hasn't arrived yet. I can only it's going to be here soon. An in-person event would have meant I could buy one on-site, I am sure, and who knows, maybe even snag an autograph. Ah, the stuff of groupie dreams.

The trouble with masks

They make me sweat. They make my nose itch. They bother my ears.

They protect those around me in case I have to sneeze, cough, or speak. They afford me some safety as well.

In other words, they're not so troublesome at all.

I remember when seat belts were first introduced. Up to then, the only time I'd ever used a seat belt was on a plane. And really, I hate to say it, but aside from keeping us in place during light turbulence, on a plane they are more a matter of mental safety than survival equipment.

But seat belts in a car make a huge difference in a crash. They've been mandatory in British Columbia since 1977, earlier than that in other jurisdictions, including the US. Although poking around for information about their use, I've discovered there's no law regarding them in New Hampshire. 

When they were first introduced, there were plenty of gripers -- belts were uncomfortable, they wrinkled your clothes, they seemed unnecessary. Yet, as time went on, we all grew accustomed to them, to the point where most of us now would be uncomfortable driving (or riding) without one.

As we keep seeing the numbers of COVID-positive cases rising, especially in the US, it's getting easier by the day to take the time to don a mask. Soon, I can only hope (at least while this pandemic reigns our lives), the matter of putting on a mask before entering a store or public place will become as automatic as getting into the car and clicking the belt.

Response to a bad idea, badly timed

I'll admit that I've never been a big fan of the police -- just as I'm sure there've been times they've not been too fond of me. Still, I don't pretend for a minute that we don't need them. There've been times I've needed to call them, and times too when I wish someone had called them for me.

But whatever ambiguous feelings I may have about them, I'm not alone in worrying about proposed changes for the police force in our city.

Our mayor was elected at least partly on the promise of replacing our police force (the RCMP) with a local Surrey force. He hardly received an overwhelming mandate, winning only 41.1% of the votes. This was in part because there were two serious opponents, and though neither of them accrued a higher total than he did, the votes they received together (in other words, votes cast against McCallum) constituted 51% of the vote.

As you can see, there are signs on lawns opposing the move to oust the RCMP. And though petitions filled with many signatures (40,000 by February) have been presented, Mayor McCallum remains hell-bent on his plan for this new force. Despite petitions -- both online and on paper -- asking him to reconsider his stance, he continues his persistence, with pleas from the public falling on deaf (or perhaps plugged) ears.

Looking at the steps required to become a member of the RCMP, the process appears to take quite a while with interviews followed by training, which in itself takes half a year. Especially with recent events demonstrating a widespread call for better, extended training for those serving as officers, it isn't the right time to employ any shortcuts to selection or training.

Unless Mr McCallum plans to have a police force that's undergone a much less rigorous application and training process than the standards set for the RCMP, it looks like anyone wanting to apply will have to hurry up, as the timeline is getting awfully tight. Yet not even the website for getting information on how to apply is active yet -- only an announcement that a board has been hired.

Canada Day was barely a week ago. That day meant there were exactly nine months remaining until April 1, 2021, the day when this supposed police force is scheduled to take over from the RCMP.

While it may only take nine months for a human pregnancy to be fulfilled, I suspect the transformation of Canada's largest RCMP detachment will take longer. Maybe the gestation period of an elephant (the one in the room?) would be a more appropriate time span to allow.

The delight of reading children's books

I used to work in schools, most of the time as a teacher-librarian. People used to comment about how lucky I was to be able to read all the time. Ha! It was rare to get any reading done beyond reviews, requests from teachers for particular titles, or documents outlining curricular changes (ugh). It was only when school finished at the end of June that I could once again dive into the pages of any book, simply for the pleasure of reading.

Only I found I wasn't able to start right in on what might be called 'adult' books. My regimen would always be to start off on a few Tintins. After that, I'd wean myself from pictures to words, but I'd still stay with what are called (foolishly perhaps) children's books.

Usually, these would be books I'd read before: The Secret Garden, the Narnia books, the lesser-known but wonderful Greene Knowe series by Lucy M. Boston.

The other day I ran across a list of favourite children's books as reported by various 'grown-up' authors. I was familiar with many, though not all of the titles -- but as you can imagine, I've started requesting some of them from my public library. Even though it's still closed, they've worked out a system so we can pick up requested titles when they come in, and for that I am grateful.

So, where it's now July, I'm giving myself permission to go back to some of those kids' books, as I suspect they'll be very good at helping me get back to feeling some of that old summer magic.

Magic in the forest

Even though Solstice has come and been, it hasn't been easy to convince myself that it's summer. It might be officially so, but the weather hasn't agreed. It's been cool temps, with the occasional light rain spitting just enough to dampen spirits.

Although I've put in some hours on a contract project, made a few jars of jam, and kept up with the usual domestic chores, with the weather so cool, I've mostly just wanted to curl up with a comforter, quietly turning pages, reading. And while I've managed plenty of that, yesterday brought a different kind of interlude.

A friend had done some repair work on an old violin we've had poking around here, and when he brought it over, he also brought his own. Not only did he bring it, he played an entire concert for us --

outdoors, of course, complete with the requisite social distancing.

It was pretty magical looking into the trees of our mini-forest while the music drifted over us. And maybe doubly magical for me, as the book I've been immersed in, Greenwood by Michael Christie is permeated with such a deep understanding of the forest and the interrelatedness of the trees that abide in it. It feels as though I've been living and breathing trees all week. Not a bad feeling at all, especially when accompanied by a private concert.

And now, I am hearing that there are violin concerts across the US, commemorating yet another man beaten to death by police. Devastating.

Row on row

The other day, because I had a small somewhat out-of-town errand to run, I had the good fortune to drive past a place I call my 'favourite' field. The farmer was on his tractor and in the process of cutting the hay.

A lot of people would likely sneeze at the thought of witnessing such an event -- and probably if I'd hung around for any length of time, I would have too -- but I found it so beautiful I had to stop and take a quick photo. The shot doesn't begin to match how gorgeous (at least to me) it actually was, still, it might give you a bit of glimpse of the freshness and the greenness of the tidy rows.

And then, because I always like to find some kind of theme for a post, I started fiddling around and looking for something along the line of rows.

Of course, "In Flanders Field" came up, but I knew that wasn't what I wanted, so on with the search I went -- until I found this very old poem, "Row On", credited to being found in the logbook of a whaling ship. The chorus especially, with its line, "There's dawn beyond the night" seemed apt for the difficult days we're in, a reminder that hope lies over the horizon, but that it's there, waiting.

Neighbourhood bunnification

  
I'm not sure why, but lately there's been a proliferation of bunnies around here. They're awfully good at holding still -- something I'm sure they do as a protective response, feeling safe as if they're wearing little invisibility cloaks. I don't mind, as that stillness makes it easier to take photos, even allowing me to zoom in on them.

And no, they're not part of our city's official beautification plan, though I admit to seeing them a bit
that way.

They tell me that our little biome, a mini-version of the temperate rainforest, must seem natural enough for them to move in. Although, maybe it's because we're one of the only such areas left around here.

I hope that's not the reason, and can only say I'm grateful for bunnification over gentrification, though I suppose not everyone will agree that a neighbourhood in suburbia isn't already 'gentrified' space. Still, we're seeing an awful lot of mega-development nearby and know that it's only a matter of time until we'll be crowded out by giganto homes and/or condo developments.

For now at least, home still feels like a haven, even after having been mostly confined to it for so many weeks.

And in case the bunnies want to move in and stay, we've even built a tiny little house for them. Silly? Probably. Fun? For sure.

Sturdy

Resilience.

Understanding.

Justice.

Acceptance.

These are big words. Unfortunately, they're words I'm not hearing often enough. And I'll admit, I dread watching what might transpire in tonight's news.

As always, I find myself turning to poetry. Here's a piece I found on one of my favourite websites. It's called "Any Light" and was written in response to events of the past week. It's posted on Rattle Magazine's website, and they've set it up so you can listen to the poem while you read it.

As for today's odd photo, it's a dandelion that found a way to grow through a fence -- an example of the sort of sturdy resilience we all seem to need these hard days. And it's not just me feeling this way. The theme for our local arts council's current show is also Resilience. Have a look.

A little bit country...

...a little bit wild.

And that's how I like our yard to look.

Sure, the grass, complete with clover and buttercups, gets mowed now and then, but there are spots where I like nature to do the landscaping.

This wild rose has been here since the last century (the 20th is the one I mean, but who knows), as have the daisies, which have now inched their way into what passes for lawn.

Today was particularly dark and rainy, so I took refuge in a nap, and also in the pages of a book, where I was lucky enough to find what feels like a timely reminder. It's from a collection of writings gathered by Graeme Gibson, and from an author named Aldo Leopold who, in turn, cites yet another famed writer, Thoreau: "In wildness is the salvation of the world."

We can use some wildness, not the riot-in-the-streets kind, but the wild of wilderness, from which we all come.

Snow in May?

While those may look a bit like flakes of snow, that's not what they are -- and am I ever glad! Parts of Ontario and even places in BC are still getting the occasional dusting, but fortunately, not us.

It's a chunk of lichen, knocked down from the roof -- the result of one of those nearly-annual jobs of ongoing maintenance that go along with being lucky enough to have a home. Plenty of moss came down too, as well as an awful lot of spruce needles.

When I started to look up information about lichen, I had no idea what I'd be getting myself into. It turns out that are so many different kinds, and that they serve so many different purposes, well, it was a lesson that could have led me to needing to go to grad school for a PhD.

But I guess that's one of the things I love most about being able to explore the internet -- and like everyone else, that's about the most exploring any of us get to do these days.

Once upon a time, it was called armchair travel, only as I poke around for a definition of that term, I find that armchair travelling looks more popular than ever. If nothing else, the price is right, and no passport or currency exchange required.

The things that happen when a person decides to do a bit of home maintenance. Like Dr Seuss said, "Oh, the places you'll go!" 

Rainy day weekend

And on what's supposed to be a long weekend.

The Victoria Day weekend is supposed to mark the beginning of summer. It's the time people put plants into the ground, or bring their indoor ones outside. It's often observed by having the first barbecue or picnic or trip out of town.

It's also always been the weekend for the Cloverdale Rodeo, though this year, along with just about everything else that might draw a crowd, it's been cancelled. It's not something we always go to, though last year, with out-of-town guests visiting, we took in one day of the fair.

Because yesterday was dark and gloomy and rainy all day, I figured it was a good time to start a jigsaw puzzle. I'm lucky enough to have a few on the shelf, as they're another of those everyday items whose price has skyrocketed owing to the demand from bored stay-at-homers.

The photo on top shows how far I managed to get on the first day of puzzling. Not even all of the edge pieces in place, as several of those were well disguised (at least to my eye).

Today after breakfast, I dove back in, trying to put the rest of those cheesy pieces in place.

Not too surprisingly, the Swiss cheese section was the hardest. Even looking at the picture on the box didn't seem to help.

Slowly, trial-by-error, taking a piece and trying, trying, trying it -- that was my method, hardly very scientific, I am sure.

But as I fiddled, my mind wandered, and I thought there are probably quite a few things in life that we manage by exactly the same method. We try something, if it works out, great. When it doesn't, we try to get over it and move on, and try another way of addressing the problem.

And then, just as I was in the home stretch on the cheese, to my surprise and delight, the sun burst forth.

I don't really think that had a lot to do with my finishing the puzzle, though the coincidence felt fun.

And who knows, maybe next time there's a rainy long weekend, I'll have to see if making a puzzle works the same weather miracle.

What's next?

The other day someone asked, "What's the first thing you want to do once this whole social distancing thing is over?"

After thinking for a bit (quite a few things came to mind), I decided that one of the first things I want to do is probably give a hug to our letter carrier.

She's continued to faithfully bring bills, pleas from charities I've never heard of, magazines (which do generally manage to brighten my day), and even the occasional (way too occasional) cheque.

She's also brought a small semblance of normalcy to life. There she is, nearly every day, stuffing something or other into the letterbox. Even when it's just another real estate flyer or pizza promo, it feels like a little bit of contact with the 'outside' world.

The most amazing items to have arrived during these weeks of isolation have been the personal ones. An Easter card, a wonderful letter from an 'auld acquaintance' and even a thank you note.

Days when there's nothing there, I admit to a stab of disappointment, as if I've been forgotten. One result of these days is that they've made me a little bit better at sending out cards and notes of my own. Even though sending notes through the post is slower than the instantaneous e-connections we've grown accustomed to, our communication doesn't always have to be via email, or worse (in my mind at least), by way of Facebook.

And hmm. I seem to have a pile of postcards I've collected over the years. What, exactly, I'm saving them for, I'm no longer sure.

I think it's time that I start sending some of them around -- if for no other reason than to maybe give a postal employee along the line a small reason to smile.

Five and five

Today, Cinco de Mayo, or 05/05, seemed like the right day to get my toes (all five and five of 'em) out from their wool socks and duck shoes. Starting today, and probably to October, it's likely I'll be wearing sandals. At least that's the plan.

Because today also happens to be Taco Tuesday, there are quite a few Mexican recipes floating around the internet. And since we just happen to have some homemade tortillas (yep, we're doing all sorts of crazy things in the kitchen these days), soft tacos will probably be part of tonight's menu.

One of my friends has a tradition of hosting a party to celebrate this day, but this year, along with the rest of us, she's staying home on her own.

But that doesn't mean the rest of us can't find a way to celebrate -- and it doesn't have to be as goofy a way of celebrating as getting your toes out into the sunshine.

Is there a poem that fits into your pocket?

Today, the last day of National Poetry Month, is also Poem in Your Pocket Day in Canada and in the US. Other years, there've been celebrations where I've distributed poems -- either folded, origami-style, or rolled into little 'diplomas' -- and shared them.

This year, I'm needing to post a photo of a basket full of poems that was part of a display at my local library a couple of years back. They're always good at celebrating holidays, especially literary ones. It's awkward having them be closed for this long (and longer yet, I am sure it will be).

Still, I'm able to find plenty to read, especially books of poetry. I hope you can find poems to read too.

If you can't, you might want to think about signing up for one of the services that will email you a poem every day. My favourite is the one from the League of Canadian Poets, called Poetry Pause, where there's always something new. If you'd like to subscribe, here's a link that will let you do exactly that.

Happy 50th!

 
What an amazing anniversary! I suspect when Gaylord Nelson 'invented' Earth Day, he had very little notion of just how long the idea would endure.

I'll admit, I didn't do a lot to celebrate today, as Nature looked after watering the garden. And with physical distancing, there wasn't much point in really going anywhere...

One thing I did do was attend a virtual book launch -- for an anthology that, if the poems I heard today were any indication, is bound to be amazing. It's the second in a trilogy of books edited by Yvonne Blomer, past Poet Laureate of Victoria and a fine poet herself.

The first volume, Refugium, put its focus on the Pacific. This one Sweet Water, contains poems for the watersheds. The third will celebrate the Atlantic Ocean.

And of course, while I watched the video presentation, what did I have by my side but my lovely heron-decorated bottle of -- what else -- pure, refreshing water.

Cheers to Earth Day and to poetry!

Re-Eastering

We're having Easter all over again, as today marks the observance of Orthodox Easter. It seems to usually fall one week after the Western Christian celebration, though sometimes the dates can be even farther apart -- and sometimes even on the same date. Complicated. Nonetheless, even the pie crow who lives on the windowsill above the kitchen sink seems to be enjoying himself.

We celebrate both Easters, and do so in pretty much the same way, following a number of traditions. Although the menu mostly contains the same elements, the way they're prepared may vary a bit. Last week the main course of lamb was chops on the barbie. Tonight it will be a pair of slow-roasted lamb shanks. Still, the traditional lamb appears both times and, of course, the beautiful coloured eggs are always part of the celebration -- a fresh batch each time.

Last week, I received quite a few Easter greetings, and one of them contained a phrase that made such good sense to me. It referred to the Easter observance as one marking the 'resurrection of life' -- a perfect description of the many forms of new life that occur in springtime.

Everywhere I look, I see the blossoms on the fruit trees, the bulbs now bearing flowers, the seedlings sprouting in the kitchen garden. After a challenging winter, all these signs of regeneration bring hope and the promise of better days.

Cheery pink blossoms

Today, the halfway mark through National Poetry Month was the day my poetry group had our monthly meeting. Virtual, of course -- necessary not only because we're observing social distancing, but essential as one of our members is currently living in England.

It turned out that all of us have been coming up with new poems, thankfully not all of which focus on the v-word. You know the word I mean, the one we keep hearing what seems like too much about.

Thinking of writing new poems, my thoughts turned to the annual Haiku Invitational, part of Vancouver's annual Cherry Blossom Festival (which I think this year we ought to rename the Cheery Blossom Festival). The competition is on through May and entries are free, so it might be fun to try.

To make it easy for people who may not live in Vancouver, they've given us a choice of several virtual tree walks which may help you come up with a few word images. But even if these don't inspire you to write some haiku, they're sure to give you a nice sense of springtime. Enjoy!

Enjoying the signs

 We've had some beautiful signs popping up in our neighbourhood. Lovely lettering done in colourful chalks, all of them important, positive reminders. As I take my private strolls, I encounter them on the sidewalk, and no matter how many times I see them, they make me smile.

Small actions such as these are one of the reasons I am smiling today.

Of course, there's another sweet circumstance that always comes to mind for me on this particular date, April 10th.

It was another sign, and long ago, that made a child ask her mother, "What's Aprilioth?" The pair had been driving past the community centre, and an ad posted on the outdoor signboard was announcing an event scheduled to take place on April 10th. To the girl, the plain font, all in caps, meant the date looked more like a word than any specific day.

That child was author Eileen Kernaghan's daughter, and the question led to the setting of one of Kernaghan's wonderfully engaging fantasy novels, Journey to Aprilioth.

The signs are everywhere. We just have to be alert to them. Like they used to say at the end of every episode of Dead Dog Cafe: "Stay calm! Be brave! Wait for the signs!"

Getting re-engaged with reading

During these days of isolation and social distancing, one of the ways we can still get into someone else's mind is, of course, through a book.

I have a Kindle, but admit to still preferring the sensory pleasure I get from a book -- even just turning paper pages is preferable to me to clicking thumbs on the e-reader (in fact, I sometimes get sore arms from doing this).

By some stroke of luck, the last time I was at the library, I was inspired to grab more than my usual allotment of books. And I'll admit to having a houseful as well, many of which I've never read. Some of these might have been gifts (Lincoln in the Bardo for one); others just part of some overambitious spree.

Earlier this week, Geist Magazine put out a note encouraging all of us to support our local bookstores. I'm taking this to mean the stalwart independents. I've been compiling a list, and allowing myself a set price which I'm going to try to not exceed.

There were plenty of days in the past when I thought I didn't have time to read (though somehow, I suppose, I always read something -- even if just the back of the cereal box). But these days, that excuse has flown out the window, along with the many engagements that are usually on my calendar.

I'm happy to follow the advice on the cushion one of my talented artist friends made me and yes, read a book, read a book, read a book.