Tuesday, May 5th. 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.
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.
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!
“Laughter is the sound of freedom.” Jimmy Carr