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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 25^th 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.

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.

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.

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

Time Flies

Mid-summer; already. Time flies whether you’re having fun or not. Yet another wild fire burst out near Port Alberni last evening. It appears that we have not escaped another vicious fire season and that once again the center of the island is drawing fire bugs. Keeping all people out of the summertime woods seems the only solution to me, drastic as that is. South of the border, as fire-ravished as they are as well, Jabba The Trump is mumbling about more tariffs on Canada because of our invasive smoke. There is a long list of natural disasters in the U.S. that Canadians have always helped with, without charge. Nothing like good neighbours eh Jab? Maybe we need a wall along our entire border, four hay bales high. It will help filter the smoke. Friends? You’re working on it Donny!

BC Day. Seems an odd way to celebrate in the middle of a severe fire season.

What do I know? I’ll just stay home and water my beans and grapes. They seem to do well together.

While in discussion about homelessness I had an epiphany. Our national economic system is based on debt mis-management. If the feds go on racking up billions more in national owings they are only participating in the culture which nearly every Canadian is following. Our personal finances are generally deep in the red. How can we expect our MPs and MLAs to do other than represent our lifestyles? Financial solvency now means covering minimum monthly payments. Clearly I qualify to run for office.

For all the help we discuss offering our poor and disenfranchised there is something which we do not consider. Their lifestyle clearly precludes accumulating any debt load. That is very clever because in today’s culture, if one is able to live debt-free, they are wealthy! Hmmmm! “Verily, the meek shall inherit the earth.” Just sayin’, ya know?

Genoa Bay. As seen from a friend’s boat.

The way we were. Once a floathouse that allowed folks enough space to stand up, lay down and be warm and dry was all we needed. all this well-kept example lacks is a peace sign.

The way we do it now. Living over your boat. Imagine the rock’n roll on a stormy day. And…think about what happens if the marine owner decides your moorage contract is terminated. Freedom? Not!

The last movie we’d been to see was way back before the mayhem of Covid; can’t remember what it was. Finally we were drawn to see ‘The Odyssey.’ The process of buying tickets online is horrific and fodder for a movie in itself. An IMAX high-tech three hour flop where Odysseus, with his gleaming Hollywood teeth, is constantly addressed by Telemachus his son, as Dad. This classic Greek myth is a cornerstone of all literature but this wonderful yarn has been looped, cut and added to. The script is an attempt to demonstrate AI miracles and clever special effects. To Christopher Nolan the producer, “YA MISSED!” I did love the portrayal of Cyclops but was dissappointed with the scene of all the good guys crammed inside the Trojan horse. Not one fart joke! Great imagery but this old geezer could have stood an intermission. Pee happens!

The summer sun. Half of Southern BC seems to be on fire, then there is the smoke from the US fires and though no-one mentions it, the Russian Taiga is burning. You want to put a tariff on it Donny?

A gift of rain. Unfortunately it, and some lightning, mostly passed on by.

On this first morning of August I sit and look out on the harbour as vultures patrol the skies over my backyard. Either they are waiting for me or there is some more fresh roadkill on the highway below. Speaking of roadkill I must throw out a kudu to a local motorcycle shop. Mile Zero Motorsports is a local dealer and bike garage. They are not a Yamaha dealer but took my wee bike into their moto hospital. It was there for two months until I finally came up with the correct parts. They cured the problem by refusing to let the bike go until it ran right. Then they washed it, oiled the chain and checked the tires before presenting me with a minimal invoice. They lost money on this one. It is sad to shout out about being treated very well when all businesses could respect their clients like this. All they did was treat me like I mattered. I’ll be back to spend more money on gear and…. maybe even a new motorbike. I’ll market these people every chance I can.Thank you guys.

The best thing to add to your garden is a package of wildflower seed. It keeps changing as the season advances and the bugs love it.

On that note, I’ve gone for a ride on my motorbike.

A few days later the Entire Okanogan Valley seems to be on fire. I have neither uninformed opinions or sage observations to provide. Soon evacuees will be sleeping under cardboard on the lake’s beaches. There is no place left to put them. I have some broad perspectives on why this is happening but this is no time for anything other than the immediate. Some folks are wondering when they can go home when the massive fire is not yet even contained and under control. That attitude goes a long way to explaining why we are in this mess. Enough said. Let’s be glad to live where we do and not in one of those other places.

If you’re not making someone elses life better, then you’re wasting your time. Your life will become better by making other lives better.
Will Smith

Walking Distance

Sip. After about 65 years of taking pictures I can assure you that it is not about equipment. It is about developing an eye for the simple beauty all around us and understanding the basic science of light. For the last few years I’ve insisted on using a mobile phone to capture images to prove that. Frankly, phones are now much more than cameras used to be but the process is still the same. AI will never exceed human creativity.

Yesterday I was in a recycled furniture shop. Laughing and joking with a group at the till I made a silly mistake and then mentioned a T-shirt for sale that said “ I had potential.” The cashier brusquely replied that I didn’t need a sign for her to see that. Gotta love a girl with a sense of humour!

One more from the notice board. Thar be a push-pin pirate!

Somehow, for me, June has meandered through my existence and we are well into July. I am looking out my office window at the harbour. There is a brassy light as the sun ladders through an overcast sky. The Westerly wind is rising and stirring the water with catspaws. Soon there may be whitecaps in the bay.The temperature is pleasantly moderate. It’s time to get the girls and go see what’s up in the woods before some citiot sets fire to them. Another beautiful day in a wonderful place to live. Oh Canada! Later I’m back sitting again at my desk staring balefully out at the world. This sitting is getting to be a bad habit, one that urgently needs breaking.

An artechoke morning. What an amazing plant! This photo is about life-size.

I try to avoid political comment but I feel the need to say this. I think our current prime minister is doing well. He waded into the Trump swamp, has a mess left behind by dear Justin and is trying to secure his own political future with every step dogged by Mr. Polynever yipping like a jealous puppy. Here’s my thought. Mr Carney has vowed to do something positive about affordable housing in Canada. He has annouced plans to manufacture affordable homes which can be delivered to the jobsite.

I was flummoxed to hear him announce yet more plans to spend $100,000,000 to refurbish 24 Sussex Drive. Apparently no PM has lived there since Stephan Harper’s day. (He must have had some wild parties! The joint is trashed) I’m wondering why pre-manufactured housing won’t work there. A nice double-wide trailer should do the trick and make a noteable political statement. If it’s good enough for the likes of we, then why not he? Just sayin’. Lead by example.The balance of that hundred mil. could build several more shacks for the people. Oh, leave the old stone doorway standing as a monument to an era long gone.

I say old chap, where has the ocean gone?

This baby bunny won a stare-down contest with my dogs. It is about six inches long.

And verily the fir sprang forth from the cedar.

This is the bottom of Haslam Creek. In a few months salmon will spawn in its rushing waters. It is hard to grasp but it IS normal.

So we have teetered over the fulcrum of mid-July and this blog is still sitting on the back of the stove. There is wildfire smoke in there air but not much else is going on in our sleepy little town. I have decided that Ladysmith is indeed the finest community on Vancouver Island. We have small town politics while we continue to sell ever more building permits and then worry about our water supplies. Ever bathed in beer? The City Of Ladysmith just doesn’t have a ring to it. We’re still a town, We like it like that. It is why we moved here. Allegedly voted to have the nicest mainstreet in Canada. Uhuh!

Some days it may best to stay home and smell the flowers.

Today I went to the local harware store. There were some ladies selling donuts for a local baseball charity. A rather rubenesque soul tried flogging me a box. I said, “No thanks, I’m allergic. They make me swell up!” Her response was, “That happens to some people.” So of course I had to reply, “I can see that.” I know why I don’t have many friends. You’ve got to have a sense of humour if you want to hang with me. There is no-one so poor as a person without a sense of humour.

The shameless bather. In the dryness of summer a tiny puddle can mean life itself. The snail is about 3/4.”

A workshop shot. I’m refurbishing an 80 year-old Aldis lamp (Navy signal lamp) for a neighbour. These allowed ships to communicate using Morse Code. No radio signals could be intercepted.

As Vancouver Island closes its pulp & paper mills, toilet paper farming has taken on a new urgency.

Oh Canada! What a wonderful place we live. The mountains of the mainland loom over the mayhem of Vancouver. I’m happy to be an islander. I love that wee wooden boat.

It has occured to me that, with broader thinking, most places are within “walking distance.”

Five Hundred

As I sat down to begin writing this I was flashed an e-ad for a T-shirt with the caption, “I had Potential.” End of blog, what else is there to say?

In the end we tried a few. They’re tasty enough but a lot of work. I’m an artichoke virgin no more.

I started this wee blogging endeavour with the notion of providing yet another travel bog, a way of showing photos and perspectives that engaged folks and offered ideas a little out of the box. To do that you have to travel. There has been precious little of that although not all journies are measured in miles. Of course I’ve been providing myself yet another creative outlet with this blog. Along the way my readership has developed a following of folks who tell me they look forward to what I offer. Their interest in turn gives me reason to keep looking for good photos and perhaps a reason to live beyond my own selfish parameters. I have made some wonderful friends, upset a few others and documented both the interesting and the mundane. The world is not a better place for anything I’ve done, but damnit, at least I’ve done something!

Remember Melanie and “I’ve got a brand new roller skate….” This is a new variation of the geezer’s electric scooter. You can even get a heater and A/C!

And so this is blog number five-hundred. It is no great personal achievement but I wonder if there will be a thousand some day. This continuing effort has given me clarity and purpose. I thank all my readers for their support and input.

There’s a four-letter word I have come to hate. FIFA. I am not a sports person in any way although I do not begrudge anyone else their passions. If soccer is your religion, bow down and remain devout. But World Cup my ass! We’re forced to endure the endless drivel about the seven World Cup Games to be played in Vancouver. Look! The whole world is not gaga about kicking a ball about. In fact there will be less intererst after all this manic irresponsibility has been forced on us. If the fuss was about all the World Cup games I could be more tolerant. But seven, a mere seven games! The media’s focus is almost exclusively on this. (Gaza, Iran, the Ukraine are all in the “Oh yeah” file but Trump’s name still makes it into every newscast.) Multiple billions have been spent to turn the city of Vancouver upside down, roust the homeless, disrupt weeks of commerce for many small buinesses, brigades of extra police have been brought in. The price of everything for both locals and visitors has been jacked outrageously. This mayhem provides no lasting benefit other than the hope of having some temporary global attention. Soccer is a noble ancient sport but we have other desperate issues needing the focus our wealth and passion.

Captain Peck. He’s got an eye on you. A stinkeye!

A prettier bird in flight but they have a very ugly stink eye. If you see Turkey Vultures circling overhead… worry.

Chemainus Beach, Low tide, Father’s Day, Summer Solstice.

Well it is coming on to mid-June. There are no clouds in the sky this morning, water use restrictions have been advanced, river levels are desperately low and we all live in terror of wildfires. I’ve spent my five-hundredth blog growling at a football corporation and the dogs need a walk before it it gets too warm. Onwards and sideways. 501 or bust! Today is now already summer solstice and so I had best get this posted. The weather is perfect, no conflagrations in the forest although I’m sure some idiot is working on it and life goes on. Let’s get a piece.

A view from the deck of the Rampart Scottish Pub in Maple Bay. Thanks to a tip from a friend we found it after 39 years of going by. Everything there was grand.

More Swallow Tails. Note the pollen on its wing.

“It is generally inadvisable to eject directly over the area you just bombed.”

US Air Force Manual

An Absense Of Sirens

Magic. At a last moment we decided to take our trailer to the woods for a few days. What magic led me and my lense to be at exactly this moment in exactly this place. This beauty had flown thousands of miles to be precisely here for me. WOW!

Tuesday, May 5^th. Another brilliant sunrise in a cloudless Raincoast sky. There is not even one shower forecast ahead but maybe we’ll have one of those rainy summers. There are folks actually whining about the heat already. They’re probably the same ones who go south for a little of this same weather in winter. And, it’s not hot; temperatures are only in the mid-thirties! We do have forest fires already.

Fly me to the sun. A highway in the sky at sunrise.

In the pink. The glories of spring, which include sinus tortures, are a surreal affirmation of life.

At the head of our driveway, where it conjoin’s the neighbour’s, sits a large, ugly cast concrete planter guarding the straggling hedge between the properties. I hate it but it belongs to the reclusive lonley soul next door and I want to respect her. Although not only an eyesore, it is a hazard to navigation and lurks ready to savage any vehicle which gets too near. It has severely gnawed my front bumper.

Yesterday as we were heading out my wife Jill said, “You’re getting awfully close to the urn.” I replied, “Yeah well, we both are!” And so, with laughter, we launched ourselves back out onto the road of life. As another dawn spreads I realize how true it is. Tick Tock.

Tuesday, May19th. There’s half the month gone by. Tinkering this, tinkering that, times flies whether you’re having fun or not. Spring so far has been cool and clear and very dry. There have been a few days of summer-like warmth but nothing to match the “Hot” predictions of the weather girl in the tight dress. We finally broke out the old travel trailer just to change our perspective, and partly due to the outrageous price of fuel, decided to travel briefly to a place less than an hour from home. What a dream to find an overlooked location right under our noses that meets most of our expectations. Just Google up “Nanaimo Lakes Camping” if you’re interested. No explosions, just simple in the trees escape. And best of all, few people. Enough said, the photos can do the rest.

With over a century of logging these lakes still offer a recreational beauty for folks. Second-growth timber is now being harvested. Despite one’s environmental persuasions the logger’s skill and tenacity have to be admired. Without their efforts there would be no access for the public.

Nanaimo River, between First and Second lakes. This river is so clean that it hosts freshwater clams, trout, crayfish and other marine delights.

Roughing it. There was a time when if it rained a tarp and an overturned canoe provided my comfort. How the mighty are fallen!

No bugs. A breeze from the lake kept them away.

The way it could be; everywhere. This is how underbrush should be cleared in the proximity of people. With a huge surplus of homeless folks needing a meaningful purpose in life and a dignified way of earning themselves a living, an affordable solution to a few social and environmental issues is obvious. We have an endless supply of second-growth timber to be thinned and fire-suppressed. It is not an ultimate answer but we have to start thinking of possibilities instead of excuses.

Spring once more. At a higher elevation the season lags and trilliums still add their final glory in the woods.

Strange. I have never seen these fungi before and am eager to learn more about them.

There is a campfire ban in effect with which I heartily agree. “Cityots” the campground caretaker said. I concure. Most folks have no bush sense at all and on an afternoon like this, where the wind screams across the lake and into the trees, there’d soon be a nasty situation with an explosive inferno racing up the mountain. I’m content to let the wind whistle clean and free through the swaying timber. I’ve heard the now-too-rare chatter of a red squirrel, the cries of loons and geese, the sonorous duet of two barred owls. There has not been one siren. Funny what you can get used to!

For PEGGY. This image appeared outside my window just as I sat down to post this blog. Peggy left this world a few days ago at the age of 97. I never knew her as well as I’d have liked. She was the mom of a man who has been a friend of mine for over 44 years. I can honestly say that she never had a quarrel with anyone and raised some mighty fine kids. She was cherished by all who knew her. Fair winds dear soul.

Does the Monarch Butterfly know its own beauty?

“Laughter is the sound of freedom.” Jimmy Carr

Clever People

From where I view the world. In the murky dawn I can hear sea lions. Later a little sunlight appears.

There are nearly one and a half billion Chinese. This is a nation of folks who can eat soup with chop sticks; an art I am yet to master. I mention this only as admiration for ancient skills beyond my understanding. They also understand patience and long, hard work. Some of the world’s largest earth-filled dam’s are in China. They are mostly built by hand, one hatfull of soil at a time. It is a nation of formidable determination. We could learn things.

A courier delivered a heavy box today. My wife had ordered an open wardrobe for our guest suite. Yep, it was made in China. My job was to assemble it. Me, the jaded old mechanical guy. The first trick was opening the box which was emblazoned with a warning “DO NOT USE SHARP KNIFE TO OPEN.” Uhuh! Of course one has to use a knife and with that accomplished there was the ubiquitous explosion of white styrofoam insulation; statically charged snow stuck to everything. “Well golly” I muttered as I surveyed a cleverly-packed heap of bits and pieces. There must be a university degree available for packing boxes. You’ll never get the contents back in again. Bags of screws all counted out to the exact amount required, marked tubes of various lengths were all to be assembled into a single fuctional contraption. Frankly the heap of bits looked a bit like a home-built airplane kit; yes a real airplane. Serious business. Where to start? The manual, including a tool kit, was in the bottom of the package, of course.

Contraption complete. I used my own tools.

More instructions. First I need new glasses.

It won’t fly. But everything eventually fit together perfectly and it is solid as a rock. The only tools I needed were two proper screwdrivers. All I had to do was look carefully at the drawings in the manual. I recall that the worst diy assemble-at-home furniture I’ve faced was neither from Asia or Scandinavia but from Quebec. I can read French and the instructions still made no sense. Pictures are good.

When I think of Canada’s new agreement to buy Chinese Electric Cars I wonder if the low price means they have to be assembled by the buyer! Clever people those folks!

Anenome fading. Perhaps the most beautiful time.

It is Monday morning, Friday the 13^th has passed, Saint Patrick’s day is now in the rearview mirror. It is cold, damp, grey. The week ahead is forecast to be a continuous rain storm. Flood warnings are posted. The wind at times is filled with a mix of wet snow flakes and cherry blossoms but by week’s end the biblical deluge has not arrived here. Friends describe their vacations in Mexico. Good for you! The news from around the planet is filled with doom and gloom, suffering and hopelessness. Clearly, there is an invasive species that is out of control. We know who we are.

Down in my workshop I’m building a doghouse. Springtime. Uhuh!

Walk quickly, you don’t need any hairy sticks.

Happy people produce. Bored people consume.”
― Stephen Richards

The Sea Duck

Some folks call them sea ducks. I know them as mergansers. They are furtive and elusive. The brief and distant glimpses they allow provides a mystery to the jaunty figures they cut. They have a Woody Woodpecker haircut, the females have a russet colour to their crested heads, the males are black and oftern mistaken for loons. When they see you they will paddle away vigourously or dive instantly or explode into startling rapid flight.

Ring-Beaked Common Merganser. It’s the shiny things that get us all.

The dogs and I were sitting at our favourite spot in the local salmon hatchery soaking up a few minutes of delightful mid-winter sun when I noticed a clump of feathers hauled out on a nearby log. I was glimpsing this apparition through a thatch of tree limbs and assumed it was a gull which is seldom a shy bird.

Another fish-eater. Blue Herons are one of my favourite birds. They can be found just about anywhere around the world.

To my surprise it was a female common merganser. It had a metal ring jammed over its upper beak right to the base. It was clearly unable to eat. It was not doing well, otherwise it would not be sitting there alone and allowing me, and the dogs, to approach within thirty feet. This beauty needed help. I feared she would starve unless the ring could be removed.

I went to the folks at the hatchery, but clearly I was not going to spark enough interest to attempt a rescue. Their little boat was away for repairs and I understand that mergansers eat the tiny salmon hatchlings. At home I began to telephone all the people advertising themselves as animal/ bird rescue organizations. I did hear a creative collection of excuses. Reluctantly I phoned the BC Conservation folks. (Usually when a conservation officer becomes involved, something gets shot) Admittedly they were the only ones to respond at all.

That call-back came hours later from someone with a very broad Cantonese accent. At first I thought he was another telemarketer. I was hanging up when I heard him say “Common Merganser” albeit with his twisted pronounciation. Eventually I grasped that he saying he was in Vancouver and so could render no assistance. I thanked him for the call and then hung up in frustration. I’d done my best. I could not do anything effective on my own. If I tried, chances were there would be some self-appointed gatekeeper calling someone like ICE to take me down for harrassing wildlife. God knows that is the world we live in now.

Abeautiful basket filled with spring nettle tips. They became soup. Yum!

Next morning I was back at the hatchery and could see no mergansers, anywhere. That was good I reasoned. The bird had been caught and helped… or it had been able to fly away with its flock. In any case, it was well enough to fly and I had done my best.

Another sign of spring. It is not my idea of going to sea but at least they’re out there!

First flowers from the garden this spring.

Ok, I know this isn’t a very interesting story to most people. But of bemusement to me is that I was once a farm boy with a single-shot .22 rifle who typically killed everything he could see. I remember once killing a tiny song bird. For no reason. All that was left was its pea-sized heart still beating on top of the fencepost where the little singing bird had sat moments earlier. At the time I though it was funny. I have graduated to possessing a nagging sense of disgust and self-contempt for being such a horrible little brute.

A notion of progress. The toilet goes here. IP

I evolved to become a seasoned great white hunter and killed an awful lot of beautiful wild creatures big and small. They did all become food but eventually I could not justify hunting any more. I realized my slaughter was as much about testorone as anything to do with being a provider. I didn’t want to feel that I was one of those bastards. Now I’m another kind of nasty human… an urbanite! An overweight one who aches to be back in the woods and out on the ocean, far away from the sight, sound and smells of people living in grossly unnatural congestion. Then we become unnatural beings and chose for leadership those other unnatural beings who prove too unfit for any sort of progressive human endeavour.

If that makes me a bird hugger … so be it!

“ So much of language is unspoken. So much is comprised of looks and gestures and sounds that are not words. People are ignorant of the vast complexity of their own communication.”

…Enzo the dog, ‘The Art Of Racing In The Rain’ Garth Stein

Ho Hum Morning

Mid-February; already. It has been dull and rainy with frosty nights. Another normal winter. There is the occasional burst of birdsong and green buds are swelling but I also know that we can yet receive several feet of snow overnight. Remember the Australian love call “Brace yourself Sheila!” Be ready for anything.

I will not add my uninformed opinions to the gross cacophany of inuendos, half-truths, and outright lies in the air. What do you believe anymore? I am not prepared to engage myself in a fist fight over material gleaned from our media sources. The most recent horror is a school shooting in a northern BC community. Television News trips over itself with conflicting facts and some politicians are trying to make mileage for themselves out of this deep tragedy. What a weary and sadly repetitive gearbox of human folly.

Be braced for all the juicy news rhetoric and mindless speculations. School safety, mental health, gun licensing, gender designations will be within the weary mantras that will be spun every way except sensible. Within two days the story is no longer headline news and the dark gears of human tendencies grind on. Try to imagine the dread and reluctance every parent must endure, in every Canadian community, as their children go off to school.

Reminds me of someone I used to know. An interesting example of winter fungus.

Frosty bathing at low tide. Feb. 8th Brrrrrr!

Look up! you never know what might fall on you.

You’ve got to sing like you’re all alone.

Last night I sat and watched the Television News cover the vigil in Tumbler Ridge for the victims of this week’s mass shooting. The Prime Minister and prominent politicians were there, both federal and provincial political leaders offered sincere words of condolence. Some were even visibly in tears. I was too.

Guess who’s coming to dinner…even with two ratter dogs in the house.

What occured to me is that around the world there are many communities who endure such horrors on an almost daily basis. They do not even have the opportunity to stand together in the open to mourn their losses and their shared misery. The horror of their existence is so common it is not even newsworthy. This singular event in Canada has drawn the entire country closer together. In our troubled times with the notion of a country divided and the bullying from south of our border, I hope we are better able to stand firm in the face of it all. The most wonderful thing about our country is freedom. You are free to leave. No-one forces anyone to stay. If you cannot find the good in being Canadian, if you do not want to be part of the family; please go. We’ll be better off without you.

Zoom! RCMP Pilatus PC12 on short final to land in Nanaimo.

I sit with a mug of hot coffee and look out over the bay at sunrise. Fog is dissipating and drifting south. There is a background of grey and brass cloud split with a dagger of blue open atmosphere. Boats go about their commerce in the harbour. Now some fog moves northward. Camilia buds on the tree in my front yard swell and take colour. Birds twitter at the feeders outside the front window. It could be worse; so much worse. Be content. Breathe.

Life is often a lonely old path. Keep walking toward the light.

“We’re too poor to buy cheap boots.”… Janusz Konkol, Haber Yachts

Don’t Look Back

As I prepared to post my previous blog about Christmas I watched a documentary about the death of Rob Reiner and his wife only a week before. How such a splendid journalistic effort was put together in seven days is amazing. It hit me quite hard. I knew little about the man and his various triumphs in the film industry. I still don’t. He was an outstanding character who directed some very moving work and who also was driven to make a difference in the world around him. He was a huge positive influence on those who knew him. The world is a better place because of the influence of “Meathead.” I know he was a good guy, Mr. T-Rump had nasty things to say about Reiner’s passing.

It has been a dark year with many sad events, some of which are still unfolding. That a man who worked so hard to do good, both artistically and socially, is stabbed to death by his own son is inconceivable. This happens while the politicians and influencers sit about picking steak from between their own gold teeth. Nothing changes. In my previous blog I could not bring myself to make mention of such darkness while also trying to dredge up a bit of joy for the festive season.

Life goes on. All the heinous and dark news never causes time out for reflection. The world has known some very dreadful times and I fear there are worse ahead. I am sitting at my desk on the morning of the last day of the year an hour or two before daylight. That will depend on how thick the fog is out there. I have no witticisms, no high moralizing, no sage advise. Today is the only one you have. It is made up of a whole bunch of moments and each of those is the only space in time when you can make decisions and actions no matter how many tik-toks you may think you have in your basket. You will never find a rewind button. DO IT NOW, whatever it is. There are people who talk about it and those who do something. Make a choice. Take it from an old man.

Stand the test of time like a polished stone.

Oh! Happy New Year. May you have someone to love, good things to do and something to look forward to.

“A gentleman is someone who uses a butter knife even when he is alone.”

– Howard O’Hagan… Tay John

One Tiny Light

Winter Solstice. Some rare minutes of sun cast long shadows. These wild elk are an eternal attraction for passing motorists.

It is one thirty in the morning, a few days before Christmas. I face my reflection in the window. It floats on the crushing blackness over the bay. From where I sit at my desk I can see no lights out there, except one. There is a single boat in the anchorage across the bay. It is displaying the required anchoring light which appears to be a genuine oil lamp. It flickers just enough to reveal its authenticity. The tiny thin gold ribbon of its gentle light on the still waters reaches across to my side of the bay.

A very cool change. This is where I bring the dogs on aa hot summer day. Winter rains and wind make a huge difference.

Dark days make mobile phone photos very difficult. This one pushed the limit. Hard to believe this baby eagle was just an egg a few months ago.

I am always anxious when these characters look down on my wee doggies.

For a closer look come back at low tide.

Recently, most nights and days have been raging gales with pummelling rain, torn limbs and general mayhem from wind damage. Fortunately on our hillside we have known no flooding. If I bend my head a bit I can see further down the shoreline where waterfront homes blaze with festive lighting, even now in the wee hours. In the other direction there is the harsh glare of work lights from the log sorting grounds. I focus back on the the little flickering light and realize how that speaks to me of Christmas so much more than all the crass glitz and din of this massive commercial season. I refuse to get caught up in that.

Surf’s up. Cox Bay, Tofino, full gale on a high spring tide.

People go out there for fun with a surf board.

I’ve already deleted one blog. It dripped of loss and jaded views. This is not a time to look for negativity and regret. There is already far too much of that. I ache for friends passed on and a daughter who is no more. This season can bring such loneliness. Being naturally bent toward depression it is far too easy for me to swerve into a spiralling tunnel. I have to look for all the wonderful things we have and don’t see. How blessed we are to live where and how we do. No one is shooting at us, we’re free to leave this country at any time, we have clean air and water. Despite cries of tough times, most of us have a surplus of rich food. Enjoy it.

Snug. Pounding rain outside. Inside the smell of wood smoke, kerosene lanterns, fresh coffee.

Refined to its base elements life is about someone to love, something to do, and something to look forward. That is it. I wish you all plenty of those three things and perhaps the ability to help others find the same.

Happy Christmas.

Christmas: the only time of year you can sit in front of a dead tree eating candy out of socks.
~ Anon