Month: September 2026

Labour Day

Amazing toadstool. Despite soil that is brick-hard and dry this delicate fungus has emerged to announce the ending of summer. How is this miracle possible?

Labour Day has passed. Note that the spelling is in correct English with a U and no Amurican mutilation. Some of us up here still try to speak English properly, we check our cheque books and use the metric system as does the rest of the world. Got it? If I sound bitter you are right. Canada and the US are joined at the hip whether we like it or not. I love travelling the US. I love the country and its people and really don’t understand any of the determined disparity.

The last artechoke. What an impressive flower!

However if folks continue to refuse to use their god-given intelligence to make some clearly needed choices and rid themselves of a leader who is the grandest moron the planet may ever have known, well… it serves you right. I don’t see why such incredible stupidity needs to be imposed on your best friends and neighbours north and south. The Chinese and the Russians must be dancing with glee. Remember Divide and Conquer? American has done it to itself.

Joined at the hip. Jill took a nasty fall last week and these girls have been her 24×7 care watch.

Yesterday, a tottering old man delivered a speech. 92-year old Jean Chretien, on the 25th anniversary of 9/11, uttered eloquent, conciliatory and strong words. Our former Prime Minister left every Canadian proud and diplomatically delivered a vicious crotch-kick southwards. Let’s hear if Donny has anything else to say without fouling himself further. I’ll bet he does.

The Tradewar.
Don’t bug me.
It’s nuts.

I recently ordered some motorcycle goggles, alledgely made in Cootehill, Ireland. They were supposedly made there and then shipped to Kildare. Then, a week later they had cleared Irish Customs and were shipped on to Canada Customs. I picked them up at the local post office today, another week later, and discovered they had been actually shipped from North Wangzhong, China. Wha? The googles are of excellent quality but boy am I confused? Ya wouldn’t bullshit me would ya? Perhaps, China has secretly bought Ireland and we’ve all been trumped by the reprechans.

This morning. Now an hour later than in June and much further south on the horizon, our star is still reliable to be exactly where it is meant to be.

So it is becoming apparent that I may have to give up my motorcycle dreams. My decrepit old pins are making motorcyling a bit risky. One should be able to stay on one’s wheels, at all times especially when stopped. “The vandals took the handles and now the pumps don’t work.” It’s time perhaps to hang up my zoomers and find a new distraction. I’ve wanted a pleasureable way of taking my cameras to outback places and so am looking at alternatives. Do you know how many folks market the world’s ultimate e-bike? There are at least a hundred. Their prices go from a few hundred dollars to several thousand. The quotient price for a decent product seems to be around $1500. For one made in Canada, add at least a thousand.

A rare bird in these parts. This goshawk was caught surveying our garden.

We understand that all the basic components are made in Asia and I have no problem with that. Just put that information up front, on the first page. If you are ashamed of where your product is made I don’t want it. The few that are made in Canada do proudly display a maple leaf on the cover of their promo and I become even more chuffed when I see that it is made in Vancouver. The price for a quality bike is on par with a good used motorcycle and no, I have no interest in a used e-bike. I’ll keep you posted.

Gardens. A procession of joys.
Autumn glow. No matter how hot and dry it may still be, these beauties always show up on schedule in the wild.

Further research shows that geezers on ebikes are a bad mix. Statistics about serious injuries are alarming. Forty percent of senior oops on ebikes are serious. The thought comes that perhaps I should just acquire a basic good old electric geezer scooter. I’ll hang up some rebel flags, install a Bose stereo and come up with a heated, full enclosure for those rugged days. Doggies and I can travel in comfort. All I’ll need then is a good pair of wraparound geezer goggles. I already have a wee horn that sounds like a ship demanding right-of-way. There is an elderly scooter jockey in town who flies a Jolly Roger. Surely this old sea dog can come up with one of those. Haar and avast and shiver me lithium battery!

I wannit! Four black feet and factory heat, a single seat plus one more for my dogs. That’s it!
Old Woody. It may be almost one hundred years old. A testament to wooden ships and iron men it holds a stedfast beauty that no fibreglass hull ever can.
The watcher.

Don”t walk in front of me I may not follow. Don’t walk behind me, I may not lead. Walk beside me, just be my friend. ―Albert Camus

August Fog

Open to the world. Port Renfrew from Pacheedaht Beach. The fog over the Strait of Juan de Fuca can be on the beach in minutes.

It races through the tree tops. Tumbling through our campsite, it appears so thick that you feel able to grab a handful of the vapour in the tiny clouds. But it’s only fog. Even in the brisk onshore wind it invades like a tumbling army. Then it is gone but only to reappear again without obvious explanation. Pacheedaht Beach, near Port Renfrew, is an indigenous people’s sand beach that curves for a couple of miles along a bit of the North Pacific. Surfers love it in winter. We come here often.

A massive amount of huge driftwood bears witness to the size and force of winter storms. Children love the logs, surfers love the waves.
Everyone loves the idea of home. Tomorrow’s engineers and architects stir their creative juices.
Here it comes again
An empty log barge is towed to a remote logging camp somewhere up the coast. It reminds me of lost days when full-rigged ships were towed north the Cape Beale and then released into steady winds.

August on the West Coast is dreaded by mariners and aviators for its thick fogs. It can form almost instantly and at times lingers for days, holding everyone in a tight fist. Clear blue overhead, yet a thick grey wall lays over the Strait beyond. Miles out there ships blast their horns as required every few minutes. Those bellows boom over the shore.The open curving horizon calls. This old salt and every fibre within him aches to be back out there again with the pulse of the liquid planet beneath my feet. On shore the lazy crash of summer surf mixes with the sound of happy children and their dogs. Bliss.

Bumponimbulous cloud. There have been some interersting skies in recent days.

Thunder, lightening, rain, frightened dogs under the bed, a certainty of wildfires. Over six hours of crashing delight on Saturday night. It rained heavily, a desperately needed bonus. I grew up in a place famous for vicious thunderstorms but I’ve never seen one that lasted a quarter of a day. Across the South Coast there were over 11,000 lightening strikes! Now we’re back to cloudless skies and late summer warm temperatures. Every year there is a weather event that turns the page from summer to a sense of autumn and here we are, already!

Smokey Moon
Smokey Dawn

The air is thick with smoke from the three wildfires started during the storm, the afternoon air is thick and sultry. Days like this need to be stored in our memories when the brutal autumn rains are coming sideways. Much like the shit storm from south of the border.

We had a bumper crop of grapes but they aren’t table fruit so we gave them away in exchange for canned salmon.
Some of the harvest.

Former presidents are apologizing and explaining why Donny boy is so wrong. American citizenry are embarrassed and begging pardon. The fool is trying to rename Lake Ontario, perhaps reversing the earth’s rotation is next in his considerations. Along history’s path, to be allied with a good neighbour has always been a good thing. We’ve been at it for a very long time. Now we are blessed and cursed to live at the same time as the biggest fool the planet has ever known. Oora! From the shores of Lake Amurica…..I am so happy to stay hidden away on my little island.

There is plenty of industry in other corners of our garden.
We are starting to look like tomatos. No worries! Winter’s coming.
Wild flower seeds, a gift that keeps on giving all summer and requires only a little water.

This has been a year when there is a constant watch on the likes of Clint and Willy. They are icons of our culture and each hold a piece of nearly everyone’s hearts. In the middle of that old Dolly quietly jiggled her way out the back door. I am not one for the rhinestone cowboy culture but Dolly wrote and sang her way over it all, was a determined philanthropist and a treasured personality. I, for one, will miss her wireless ebulence and simple raw talent.

The leaves beneath this trout are nealy a foot across. Big Daddy and a school of over a dozen hang around  the outfall of the local salmon hatchery.
I wonder how many folks go by this image and fail to see it. I also have little doubt who the aliens really are.

And so I stumble on into September. There is a vague promise of rain. Cooler temperatures have arrived. It’s a nice time of year in this wonderful corner of the planet. It is drizzling out as I write. Tomorrow will dawn fresh and bright.

Out of the wind in the warm sun with a view that reaches to Japan.

“Should I ever make it to heaven and discover that there are no dogs, I shall ask to be sent where they go.” Will Rogers