Can’t you see I’m busy? bugger off. Swarms of honey bees are busy with the tiny blossoms of shrubs in our hedge.
I rang the doorbell and there was no sharp bark on the other side of the door. Something was wrong. I soon learned that Fritzi was gone. These folks are some very good friends and so was their dog, a rambunctious, joyful daschund. His long backbone had done him in. He’d suddenly lost the use of his hind legs. The only loving thing to do was to end his suffering and put him to sleep. He was only six years old. I discovered that despite my own two beloved wee dogs, I’d also been going to see my other four-legged friend. He has left a very big void in several lives. Rest in peace my friend. Like my own previous dogs I’ll miss him forever.
And then it finally rained. A gladiolus prepares to bloom.More please.
It is very odd about how torn-up a person can get over a dog who has died. People…well ? Not so much. I do value my fellow specimans but few can match the honesty, loyalty and simple affections of any canine. Some folks condemn others for keeping the company of dogs but frankly if you can’t find a place in your heart for a dog, and worse, can’t let them love you, you don’t have any hope of getting along with people.
JOY! Two dogs in a flowery meadow.The last trillium. Blooming white in their prime, they turn purple and then shrivel at the end of their season.
We’ve had a string of clear days with little rain. For the usually wet month of May it is very dry. Municipal water restrictions are in effect. We have to be frugal with water for the garden but hose your heart out if you are washing your car or filling you swimming pool. All the time that we worry about having enough water we are still selling building permits for even more subdivisions. I can’t fathom the thinking but then why are we allowing dudes like Trump to rampage over every country on the planet. To think that we are being affected by the edicts of a megalomaniac from the inner sanctum of a golf course in Florida. Wot’s a birdie?
An iris in its prime.
Wild
May is proving to be a month of drought. It is often very rainy right through to mid-July. I’m trying to persuade my vegetable beds to sprout the seeds I’ve planted. There seems to be a determination for dust. The summer ahead looks long but then only fools and newcomers predict the weather.
The girl next door. A lady lives on this property, in another house. she’s been there since she was a little girl.I used to call it the haunted house. Now I live next door.A field of ferns. Did I hear a rustling sound in there?Don’t like the weather? Wait ten minutes. It will change.
I am using the weather to try and complete all the projects I’ve planned. I’ve completed repairs to the former fish pond in the front yard. Once again it has a little working waterfall. The birds come to drink and to bathe. It’s fabulous. Meanwhile domesticated Fred has a heap of generators, powersaws and outboard motors to get running. The neighbour has 1973 Triumph TR6 to tuneup. There’s a new fence to build, vegetable gardens to water and weed. I’m not thinking of getting a goat but maybe…a milk cow? The gardens need the manure.
A 1959 Evinrude Flightwin 3hp, 2 cylinder. I could not get it to run. Every bolt was seized solid. Use it or lose it!It landed just before nightfall. Actually it is a metal interpretation of an old indigenous fish trap.Beam me up.They’re wild, deep in the forest. They looked like tiny orchids.Waking up can be such a hard thing.Weeds are just plants that someone else says are bad.
I sit at my desk looking out on the harbour on Sunday morning,Victoria Day weekend. Yachts sail out. It is hard for me to watch. Then I find this quote on the internet.
Pie in the sky. A sun dog, a tiny cloud and a contrail make a weird image in the sky. Verily, verily, strange signs shall appear in the firmament.
“ The best way to keep a person in prison is to make sure they never know they are in prison.” Isn’t that true for all of us?”
Know what’s weird? Day by day, nothing seems to change, but pretty soon…everything’s different.
When I woke up this morning. An hour later it was raining again.Have you seen my little dog. Despite the dawn she snored on contentedly.
Sitting slumped in a restaurant booth, I watched a television hockey game reflected on the rain-spattered window. We were experiencing a late-winter gale with high wind and heavy rain. It was supposed to rage on through the night. Two emergency vehicles with screaming sirens pelted off down the highway into the gathering darkness. That damned bridge construction again! I was dejected. My effort at a simple plumbing repair had turned into a monster. We were eating out because I had to leave the water shut off. My wife is not happy with me. Neither am I.
Yes really! A White Fawn lily. Winter must be over.A Currant bush in flower.And in my garden, things are showing up. It’s our first spring here so there are all sorts of mysteries appearing.
Nothing is forever. Understanding that is a joy of aging. “This too shall pass.” So…when you see certain politicians on the tely, know they’ll be gone one day. The plumbing is corrected, the rain has ended, life goes on.
A Nuthatch, or Little Quank, Does it know how tiny it is? It is as important as any other creature in the woods.Knock, knock. Having breakfast and helping keep the forest green.Then came the carpenter ants. If you listen carefully, you can sometimes hear their tiny power tools.
Today is another spring day. Don’t make plans, the weather will change. This morning there was a sparkling sunrise. Everything was sharp and rich with colour. In a bight a mile across the bay from my window is a house with a huge, impossibly green lawn. Beneath the lawn, down a bank beside a long dock sits an overturned canoe. Directly above the canoe’s bow, up in the treeline on the ridge behind is the pointed top of a green water tower hidden among the tree tops. It is hard to find even when you know it is there. Today into that crystal air smoke rises in laddered shafts among the surrounding forest. Spring clean-up I suppose and a moment frozen in time back to when wood smoke was a sign of civilization. Now it is part of a panorama of houses all along the shore and I wonder how it looked before the encroachment of all us crackers.
Sleep tight, our Navy is awake…and hiding in Ladysmith Harbour. This is an Orca class coastal training vessel. Identified as # 57, can we call her the’Heinz?’A morning delivery.By mid-afternoon it would soon be time to head out for the next load.I don’t want it but I sure admire it; and wish I could afford one like it. Then I could buy a really nice boat. A favourite local home to me, it always reminds me of a time when poor people lived by the sea and ate fish.
Later in the day, after a drive home from Nanaimo in a pounding rain and hail storm I sit back at my desk. The massive storm cell through which I drove now speeds southward on a westerly wind. The black mass with its dark skirt of precipitation is born in a clear sky. The surface wind on the harbour comes from the south, the opposite direction to the winds aloft. They’re shooting more movie scenes in our Downtown much to everyone’s inconvenience. One block on main street has been remade to look like a small town in Colorado. I wonder if there is not a movie set in Colorado made to look like Ladysmith. I also ponder about whatever happens to our movie earnings. Despite a very public impact we are never told where that bonus revenue goes. It is a secret. Spring.
The crew shivers through another dawn, wondering when they’ll be assigned a berth and a cargo.An Egg McStumpinIt’s not mine. Good tradesman always put their tools away.
Let me repeat some old wisdoms. “If it seems too good to be true, it is.” I’ve been trying to organize my workshop and after much recrimination decided to order a too-cheap-to-be-true tool chest. It was a scam, money out, no toolbox. When you’re low with funds you tend to take some dangerous chances. “There’s no fool like an old fool.” Uhuh. Spring.
Yup that’d be me. The suit and tie is my disguise.
“Flowers don’t worry about how they’re going to bloom. They just open up and turn toward the light and that makes them beautiful.”
Dogwood blooming at the corner of Seemore and Do-less. This is the ubiquitous four-way stop in downtown Ladysmith. It seems to utterly confuse a lot of folks. First come, first go but some people prefer to park out there and give directions.A harbour view. Ladysmith is picturesque.
It is Saturday afternoon, (Well it was when I started this blog) the last one in April. The wind is gusty and brings fusilades of thick rain. The Corona umbrella is still furled up in the garden shed. Typical spring weather, it comes sandwiched between forecasts of an impending drought.
The weather inside my head is just as spring-like. “Use it or lose it.” That’s how it works. Efforts at writing are both pithy and pissy so I go and tinker at projects I invent. I’ve had the suspension on my trailer rebuilt. New parts throughout and the axles were remounted beneath the springs. The trailer is now 4” higher. The scrape marks on the bottom of the sewage holding tank are that much further from the ground. I’m not afraid to leave the pavement now.
“Dunno how it happened boss. Everything was fine until I went under that bridge.”
So no more excuses other than lack of money. I’m going to break out of this suburban gulag where there is a constant drone of lawnmowers and the distant wail of sirens. Struth! Just go sit outside for five minutes and simply listen. What a world we’ve created! We don’t even hear it. A neighbour recently complained to me about the sound of mourning doves!
A little guy.There are billions of them. I wonder at times about the drive to live no matter what.Wouldn’t it be nice not to question the meaning of life?Fiddlehead unfurlingVanilla plants in bloom. If tied up in bunches and hung in an enclosure these will make a natural insect repellant.
May
Now it is a week later. I’ve just walked the dogs and am having my last coffee of the day. I started doomscrolling, that process which so many of us fall into with our cell phones. Then I was hit with these two quotes.
“When you get lazy you are being disrespectful of those who believe in you.” The next went, “A winner is just a loser who tried one more time.” Bugga! Those hit me below the belt. I’ve been thinking of quitting blogging all together but then I find quotes like. People also send notes telling me that I’ve made a difference. And so life goes on. The weather forecast this week is for perfection in the skies. Maybe we’ll drag the trailer to a beach and see if a winter’s tinkering was worthwhile.
Two weeks later
Libby contemplates distant horizons.Paddleboard dog. Heading up the San Juan River. The yellow streak is pollen. It has been a bad year for sinus problems.San Juan River morning. The last bend before it meets the sea. A bear was ambling around in the meadow across the river.
And so we did. The drive to Pacheedaht is less than three hours from home and entirely on pavement. The pavement is badly heaved a lot of the way and so there’s no point in hurrying. It is a very popular route for motorcycles although the lurching sections must be hell. One can leave Victoria, make your way first to Port Renfrew, then Lake Cowichan and Duncan and finally back to Victoria all in one day. Or, go the other way around. We arrived late and had to settle for a spot next to the north end of the one-way bridge. “That sun brings ’em out” the lady in the office said apologetically as I picked a remaining spot. For the next three days we listened to the thump thump of vehicles taking their turn at the bad plank on the bridge just above us or the blare of their stereo as they waited to cross. We did have a spectaculat view of the last bend of the San Juan River where it meets the ocean just below the bridge. The wildlife and constantly changing tide provided an intriguing and peaceful show.
Where the river meets the sea. These houses look out the bay to the open horizon. Jill took this photo while I napped with my achy knee buried in the sun-warmed sand. Very nice. Meanwhile blappety motorcycles were thumping across the bridge. Our trailer was just on the other side of it.Sea breeze. “Look Dad, I’m flying.”
There was indeed a tremendous number of motorcycles, almost half of the traffic at times. Of those, half seemed to be rumbling Harley Davidsons. I don’t understand their popularity but that’s fine too. It is a culture beyond my interest, wheeling a behemoth through the traffic and along our winding roads holds no appeal. I’ve been a mechanical guy long enough and I hold no interest in what flavour of pistons someone has installed in their ride. Whatever floats your boat! I seem to prefer feeling like a circus clown on a tiny bike but even that is beyond me at the moment. I am waiting and waiting for a knee replacement and hopefully after that I’ll be a little friskier.
Other folks paddled their kayaks and paddle boards up the river. One dufus had a boom box tied to to his board and proudly ascended the river stroke stroke, change sides, stroke stroke, bringing crashing rap culture to the forest. It is a good thing that I had brought no firearms. And…he was no teenager!
On the first night there was a spectacular display of Northern Lights which apparently were seen across the entire width of Southern BC. Always humbling and awe-inspiring’ the dome of throbbing light all around overhead reminds us of how tiny we truly are.
Well tiny as we are, we’ve found our way home again. Yet again, I’m having coffee after walking the dogs. I’m waiting for the truck motor to cool down; then I’ll treat it with a set of new spark plugs. Damn! I just paid more per plug than I did for my first car! I haven’t changed them since buying the vehicle so now I’ll know when they were done. Hopefully $140 worth of spark plugs will be amortized in fuel savings. I am finishing this on my new whiz-bang laptop computer. It seems odd, everything is new and feels it, all the keys have a letter clearly inscribed on them. It still seems to make spelling mistakes, I couldn’t find one with dumbo keys for banana fingers.
Trailer for rent. Quiet country setting. A gardener’s delight.Time passes. So do we. The beauty of the day is all we have.
So now I have a fully functional computer, I can hit the road. I live in a truly beautiful place but once in a while one needs to see things from a distance. A fresh focus can only be good. Boots and saddles, wagon ho!
The first wild rosebud I’ve seen. Once they have bloomed and their petals are falling it is summertime.The shining pathAnd then through the portal.
If you know you can do it, why go in the first place? …Iohan Guearguiev
They’re here! An air plant fitted into a sea urchin enticed me to buy it. Just what I needed!
For once, the evening’s news mentioned nothing of Ukraine or Gaza or any of the horrific trouble spots elsewhere on the planet. A fresh sizzle sells. Off we go in a new direction.
I’m watching you.
The container ship ‘Dali’ hit a bridge in Baltimore. A yet unknown number of people are dead ( I hope I’m wrong, but 6 seems very low) and critical transportation systems are crippled for years. That’s all we know. We won’t have a final toll until all the debris is cleared up. Although most of the media doesn’t even know port from starboard it is determined to analyse what went wrong and speculate about what “they” should have done better. All this uninformed opinion, as usual, is being pedaled as news and sadly the masses buy it. I have a background in the commercial marine industry and I refuse to speculate. We just don’t know, so let’s just stay focused on reality.
The Floatel. This fully seaworthy ship is used as accomodation for a major contstruction project across the strait.Ever been on a ferry which had seat belts? The HULLO ferry system is fantastic. I love it. Downtown to Nanaimo to Canada Place in Vancouver in 70 minutes. You can’t beat it with a stick!
One wide-eyed reporter stood in from of the camera and declared that the ship was going too fast which is why its steering was lost. What? How can anyone have the temerity to come up with raw lies like that when they don’t even know what they don’t know? Surely they understand that! Loss of propulsion means a loss of steering and loss of power also means no hydraulics to operate anything. Stop the bullshit, you simply do not know. I’m curious about how the vessel lost both the main engine and the generators. These are two different systems, for very good reason. Keep a questioning mind as the media spews out its uninformed opinions.
Why, within hours of the collision, was the media researching previous incidents the ship had endured? It is beyond dismal and unforgivable. What the hell does that have to do with the business at hand? When you see an image of the vessel imbedded in the ruins of the bridge, bear in mind that the ship is one third of a kilometre long. It takes a huge amount of energy to move a mass that size at any speed or trying to stop it . yoiu can’y stop a mass the size of an aircraft carrier instantly.
A week has passed. The bridge story has subsided into an account of various points of human interest. Work is underway to reopen the port’s main shipping lane. It’s tedious work and the media will fade off to other interests.
Times is tough. The economic currents are so strong the beaver has had to learn the breast stroke.
At home, Easter has passed with a healthy increase in carbon tax, but that’s not news. There will come a time when folks will swarm over our parliament buildings in rage. Not many own chainsaws, shovels or pitchforks anymore but I’m almost ready to build a guillotine. Unfortunately our expectations exceed our sense of reality. Until we are living in burned-out basement shells, cold and hungry, listening to the anguished wails of our starving children, will we get pissed off enough to demonstrate a serious anger. Wandering down a street, chanting and waving silly signs doesn’t do anything and that’s what our most militant do. Our comfort zone is too wide and deep. Let’s enjoy it while we can. If you don’t think we’re spoiled, let me sell you an all-inclusive weekend in Gaza. Bring your own water.
Green! The things we take for granted.
Our country, long known as an agricultural leader now imports a very large part of its food from somewhere else on the planet. Think of all the carbon fuels burned to accomplish that. Carbon tax? Yeah right. Even this old sailor knows that the ability to feed yourself is a cornerstone of economic security. It’s thin rhetoric when all we really want to do is talk.
There are many signs of spring. One in our town is the annual heaping of household junk out on the curb.There is a provision for an annual pickup of things folks want to dispose of. There are appliances of all sizes, electric tools, mattresses, toilets, bits of building material, baby equipment, the wealth of it all is amazing. I find it embarassing. With all the wailing about tough finances and thinking green, look at this decadence. Folks whom I’ll call alley pirates go about retreiving items they can re-use or even sell. I’ve always had enough dignity to dispose of my own spoils, party because when it leaves my possession it is truly thrashed. Clearly none of us truly understand poverty. The final grind is that we expect the common tax payer to foot the bill of it all. If you could pay a shiny price and manage to tote it all home, you also have the means to take it to our beautiful muti-million dollar disposal and recycling center.
Meanwhile, guys like me drive the streets, slowing at each pile of redundant box store furniture, home gym sets, and other wtf’s-that?
ondering what we might be able to McGiver and astonish the world. I remind myself that I didn’t need it until I saw it. Drive on old man.
Red Breasted Sapsuckers set up a home for the summer.White Fawn LilyLet’s try mauveThreeCurrantly showing
Well you can tell how long this blog has sat on the back of the stove. I use a process sometimes which I called ‘fermenting’. I mull things around in my head until those wonderful “Aha” moments which come in the middle of the night. You know, usually when you’re up to have a pee. (Which is why we call it the golden age.) I’ve had no ‘ahas’ lately and the fermentation process more closely becomes one of rotting. Let’s call it composting, it’s that time of year.
Olly. Sunddenly stricken blind in January, he’s adapting quickly. He is doing well.Got your back.
“Life is like a coin. You can spend it any way you wish, but you only spend it once.” —Lillian Dickson
A Callas Lily offsets the dreary days of January.Christmas. IT’S OVER!
Same old, same old. Christmas evening. Presents opened, dogs have them half-chewed up, meal is finished and cleared out of the way. The weather has gradually worsened until a heavy surging rain is blowing horizontally in the wind. It is dark and quiet, except for the weather. Daylight faded completely at around three pm and there’s a long night ahead. Joy to the world.
Blackhawk down. The mighty military war horse is also a very capable work horse. It thrilled me to see it. I began my apprenticeship as a rotary wing engineer in 1969. Things have changed a bit since then.
One dog gift was a stuffed toy that looked like a carrot and was filled with catnip. Some dogs love it. Then doggie chewed through and there were suddenly drifts of the strange spice all over the house. How someone managed to get a shovel-load of that shit inside one tiny carrot-sized toy is amazing. It was fun while it lasted. A non-eventful week flew by and now it is New Year’s Day. I’m proud to report that I have no hangover and can launch myself into the new year with a clear head. There was a platoon of thugs who advanced down the street firing random rounds, or was that just a bunch of youngsters with loud fireworks? I don’t really give a toss except that you really upset my dogs and I hope that you get your ass bitten. “Tastes like chicken!”
The carrot that can’t be bitten.Soon there was cotton stuffing and tentacles were spread around the room.
So ended the year. Now almost another week has passed. There’s nothing accomplished yet. I’m still tinkering in my little trailer but mostly I just enjoy sitting there, warm and snug as the winter weather jostles it about. It feels a bit like being in a small boat. Today I connected the TV and the dvd player. They worked! Now I can get away from it all and bring it all with me. Actually, a good film is like a good book, worth looking at again and again with something new to be discovered each time.
There’s an old Redneck espression about pay day when the “Eagle shits again.” For some, it’s a sparrow.
There are still odd but happy dramas. In today’s morning headlines an Alaska Air 737 Max9 leaving Portland OR depressurized at 16,000′ when a door blew out. Everyone is fine. “I was having a nap when my blanket fell out of the airplane!” A mother holding her infant son almost lost him but all’s well that ends. Here we go again! The evening news assured us that all is well here in Canada. No Canadian airline owns one at the moment. Meanwhile, somewhere in Oregon, there is a chicken coop with an honking big airplane door jammed in its roof. No eggs today! Well they have now found it in someone’s back yard. Bob the teacher’s friends told him to go have a look and sho’ nuff, there it was. Everyone can come up for air now except for one TV reporter. She stood in front of the camera and declared that a fuselage had fallen off an airplane. OK?
Winter swamp. Come summer all that water will be gone.It’s complicatedClear sky, let’s fly.See through maple. Nothing is forever.
Isn’t it interesting how non-descript things can catch your attention? I’m looking at the logo on a tube of Arm and Hammer toothpaste. It is a drawing of a blacksmith’s powerful right arm holding up a massive steel hammer. I marvelled to realize that is exactly the same illustration that I admired as a young boy so very long ago. For years I possessed a pair of arms like that, now they’re kind of withered and flabby. I used to have a hard time finding shirts that my arms fit, now it’s the belly. I wonder what happened to the rest of the blacksmith. I also use a arthritis cream called Voltaren. It and the toothpaste sit on the counter side by side and are both the same colour. I wonder if there’ll come a day when I discover the taste of Voltaren on my tooth brush. Ah, the reward of having all your own teeth!
Totem FungiThe watcherLadder LipsA rush of green in JanuaryNiether rain, nor sleet…. There’s a reason we were out there all alone.
It was 5:30 pm when I came inside. It is a beautiful clear evening with Venus beaming brilliantly in the evening sky. There is still some daylight in the west. The second sign is that today, while trespassing in the halls of the Home Despot, the BBQs were out and for sale.
Soon the aroma of cut grass and burned meat will again waft through the burbs.
Sleeepy! You’re getting sleepy!
Winter is a reminder that life isn’t forever. Luke Parker
Magnolia trees in bloom. That fleeting glorious splendour marks the surety of the seasons, the bursting out of spring, warmer days ahead and then the luxuries of summer. In a day or two the wind or rain will tear away the stunning beauty of those magnificent blossoms. Like the rest of life, beauty is a fleeting thing. There are flowers and buds all around, very intense after the reluctant retreat of winter. They mean nothing. It is Easter, the celebration of hope and rebirth. This year, it means nothing. All is a hollow, echoing nightmare. I see but do not grasp, there is no reaching sound, no smell, no taste. All is surreal. All is a void. A few days ago her mother found her body in her apartment. Her frantic little dog was guarding. Apparently, we learned, Rachel our daughter had been dead a few days.
Rachel. She was seven years old when I met her. She and her mom were a package deal. I have no regrets about that.She was incredibly beautiful in all ways.
No mother should ever have to find her daughter’s corpse. How I wish I could erase that horror for her. I cannot imagination how she deals with this end of her motherhood. She will be a mother forever. What a slam! No manipulation of words can begin to describe the depths of anguish and darkness we find ourselves plunged into. We function like automatons, mechanically going about all the ordeals and logistics we must at such a time. There may be a short pause in my blogging. There is too much pain to be able to write coherently.
Rachel at about the age of ten with her dog Fletcher. That was thirty-seven years ago. How time flies! I cannot describe the depths of grief at losing her so suddenly. It is pain no parent should ever know.
It is absolutely no consolation but I think of people in an identical circumstance in a place like the Ukraine. Their loved ones are gone, there may be no family left to share the grief, no home or any familiarity for shelter, no food. Shattered bodies lay in the rubble-strewn streets. There is a smell of decay and soot and torn earth.
I try to find solace in the love received from my family and friends, it truly is a comfort. Yet for the time being I travel in a place I do not know, nor want to. I find myself in a dark labyrinth of caves. I do not know which way to crawl, I can see nothing. This will pass. Life will go on, with or without me, all I need is to grasp a single thread to follow back toward where I can see well enough to find the path ahead. I try to imagine that Rachel and Jack, who loved each other dearly, have found each other in some beautiful place and have each again found the bliss they used to share. Meanwhile, Rachel’s own little dog is utterly confused and I cannot image the wee beast being alone with her for days after she had died. Little Ayre is a living extension of our daughter’s existence and we will cherish her.
We had no chance to say goodbye to our daughter. And my message to you is to understand that every time you say farewell to anyone, it may be the last time. Life is like that, it is fragile. Don’t leave anything unfinished, leave no regrettable words, tell them you love them, hug your children every chance you get. Happy Easter.
Ayre. Rachel’s loyal companion past the bitter end. She watches for Rachel to reappear, just like her parents do. Is any of this real?
“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”Winnie The Pooh
“Nevermore.” This crow sat in the same spot for a couple of hours cawing out a message of dubious meaning.
While posting the previous blog, it was pleasing to realize that my text had not once used the C word which now nestles in our vocabulary to a point of not being noticed. It is like the word “like” which has become a painfully misused preposition. I’m like so in love. I’m like going fast. I’m like really hungry. WTH? What exactly are you doing if you are doing like something? Is there a parallel existence that is like this one? Ya know, like, it really pisses me off. Like actually? How did that misuse of basic language creep in along with all the other strange anomalies we don’t even hear after a while? The word “cool” is now long used to express the same appreciation which, when I was a child, was “hot.” Awesome! There’s yet another. An English friend was accused of having an English accent. He responded “No mate, I am English, I don’t have an accent.” You’re hearing me with your accent. Now then, could you like pass me a beer eh? Yup, I can see how English is a hard language to learn.
Know the feeling? Try to keep your bow pointed for open water. The tide will return.Reserved parking or recycling? There was a time when old cars were used to try and prevent erosion along riverbanks. Folks were as well-intentioned then as we are now. Maybe we’ll learn yet.Down the creek just before the sea.Up the creek. A vital salmon stream encroached on by subdivisions, light industry and shopping malls.I can hear happy children jumping from the bridge on a hot summer day. This photo is at low tide.Camp Runamuck . Someone is living off-grid in social isolation beneath the tracks on the edge of town. The site is clean and…mortgage free ocean front. I admire the dignity.
CRA, now there’s another disagreeable C word. Canada Revenue Agency; Mr. Turdeau’s mafia. For reasons of health I am no longer able to do the he-man work I used to. For reasons of age I am apparently not a desirable hire-able. I do under-the-table jobs which a lifetime of experience permits me to do when others can’t or won’t. For reasons of poor luck, translated to honesty and stupidity, I am not financially secure. I’m flat-assed busted broke. But being a responsible citizen, I filed my tax return in good time, weeks before the dead line. There were a few hundred bucks coming back which I really need.
The wooden leopard. Disguised as a dead limb and poised to strike. This rare wildcat waited for its prey above a dog-walkers parking spot. It had acquired a taste for fluffy little dogs.YouTube, me tube, their tube. This wooden water pipe is part of a network taking water to a nearby pulp mill.Two of these pipes run for miles to the mill. Pumping water from the Nanaimo River, through more pumping stations, under rivers and streams, never mind the salmon, all so we can have products like toilet paper. Five feet in diameter, they are amazing engineering.Zzzzzt! It’s a matter of time. A little more wind on a rainy day and this arbutus will provide a cracking light display.Vanilla Leaf plants. Hung in bunches and dried, these plants have a pleasant smell and were used traditionally as an insect repellant.
Then the Covid Crisis was acknowledged and the government began handing out money to anyone who came up with a vaguely reasonable story, honest or not. Just apply online, three easy questions. The country is being bilked, scammed, and ripped-off for an astronomical sum we have not begun to calculate. I know there are dire and legitimate needs but there is a part of our society which has no conscience nor consideration of consequences. Meanwhile, trying to be an honest citizen receives punishment. After a lifetime of contributing to the GNP I’m treated like I don’t matter. I can also reiterate, from experience, how shabbily a small Canadian entrepreneur is treated. A free spirit? Scum! And over seventy percent of our economy is small business-based.
Another one! I’ve been walking by this carving for a very long time before I finally saw it. Brilliant!
A blurb on the evening news casually mentioned that tax returns filed on paper, the old-fashioned way, had been delayed because of all the other emergency activities. Well, I’m old-school. I checked the mail again, nothing. In the morning I phoned CRA and after a maze of numbers to push I waited for almost fifty minutes to speak with an “agent.” Wonderfully her accent was standard Canadian, and she was pleasant, both unusual in my experience with government agencies. I provided the data so that funds could be direct-deposited to my bank account. I asked the question “When?” I learned that in fact paper-filed returns have been suspended.
Well, guess what queue I’m going to go stand in? My income has been cut-off due to the Covid crisis. Coincidentally, our illustrious Prime Minister has announced today, that the government has banned over 1500 makes of assault-style firearms. Hmmm, interesting timing! Coincidence? A long-time hunter, I know that nobody needs a Kalashnikov to hunt deer. For once I agree with our supreme dude but remember that one pissed-off old citizen with a shotgun can still damage a politician! A pitch fork will work too! Beware angry geezers. They don’t have much to loose!
A little later, I return to my desk after shovelling some gravel for a neighbour. I feel much better and muse about the therapeutic values of splitting fire wood and other simple mindless manual labour. There’s nothing like a good zen sweat. I miss that pre-fossil fuel which warms a body at least twice before it is burned. I watched a documentary about life on a nearby Gulf Island and listened to a fellow who proudly uses firewood for heating and cooking, brag about not using fossil fuels. Stunning! He cuts it with a gasoline chainsaw, brings it home in a gasoline truck and has clearly never thought about what coal and oil came from. Yeah man; ancient composted vegetation, like you know, trees! Then there’s the question about carbon footprints and how many cubic metres of Co2 he produces being environmentally friendly.
This guy has raised his family in a yurt while he builds a big wooden house, with asphalt shingles, glass windows and a deep concrete basement as well as many other exploited resources. When do we ever figure out that each of us is part of the problem? Stop the bullshit and work out the difference between need, want and greed. I understand that there are a lot of very well intentioned people who are poorly informed, even misguided.
Here’s a tiny bit of environmental homework. Do research on the mining and smelting of sand to make all the glass we use. And what of concrete? Mining the rock, crushing it into powder, baking it to make cement all so we go and smother more natural earth somewhere else is a monstrous environmental disaster which few consider. The impact is huge! The production of concrete is one of the planet’s single largest sources of carbon dioxide. And just think of all the energy consumed to make glass, concrete, steel, toilet paper! All those exploited resources, and the energy to take and modify them to suit our ends, so much going into housing, schools and hospitals (Boarded up or not) commercial and industrial buildings, roads, malls, churches, airports all of which will be ripped up and replaced within a few decades. The environmental cost, for example, incurred to produce windmills is huge and not questioned because if we can put some of those twirling giants on display we’re clearly in the groove. Are we doing what we do to be thoughtfully in tune with the planet or are we going through the motions of appearing cool? A friend describes our madness as “Fornicating for chastity.”
I’m not a great fan of Mikey but he was clever enough to keep his pudgy face out of this one. He is facetious, as capable of bending statistics and evidence as his targets, and probably as profit-motivated. I do love the indignant howls of various environment organizations targeted in this film. The information presented is perverted but so are many of the notions he challenges. The message is clearly, “Green Energy” demands as much energy, if not more, than it would have taken to simply consume fossil fuels in the first place. A wise old man once told me that the key to long-term survival is to realize how little we really need. Just think of all the paper tissue products we consume; all for the extravagance of ease and comfort. It is not complicated. CONSUME LESS! WASTE LESS! The documentary is meeting mixed reviews but it does provoke questioning dialogue. If folks would just ask questions the world would begin to improve. Unfortunately we all live in a very broad comfort zone where complacency rules our choices and allows politicians and corporations (One and the same it often turns out) free rein.
My favourites. Chocolate lilies. Rare, fleeting, fragile and beautiful, they mark the ending of the spring lily season.Chocolate lilies. Then they’ll be gone.Camas Jack. What’s happier than a wet dog? …a wet dog that’s rolled on a dead salmon! “I love you dad, let’s cuddle!”Puddle Break! C’mon, lay down and drink. Taste the mud. None of that clear fresh rainwater for me.
When I was a child the notion of rolls of paper towels would have been dumbfounding. When clothing was too worn to patch anymore, (An alien concept now) it was torn up for rags, which were even washed and reused. Toilet paper was not novel, but many of us with outdoor facilities used newspaper and old book pages. It was how I learned to read. The planet advanced nicely without our present decadence. Think of all the environmental devastation wrought simply so we can clean our bottoms with triple-fluffy poo pillows. Hell, some ads even have the bears using the stuff. Trouble is, the woods where those bears live are being cut down to make dunny rolls. When the Covid panic hit, folks rushed out in panic to gather all the toilet paper they could find. Priorities first!
Here’s one more thought. Suppose some persuasive enterprisers are able to convince the world that the gyprock drywall used in nearly every building is a deadly carcinogen. It has to go the way of lead-pipe plumbing and asbestos products. Can you imagine? Sleep well.
See what happens when you mess with a taxpayer. You get him thinking!
Shack Island squall. These islands, in a beautiful natural bay, were populated during the 1930s. I think it should be a heritage site. Newcomers want the buildings razed although they are all owned in perpetuity. It is a splendid example of people adapting to tough times.Piper Island woods. A rain squall hit and drove everyone off. We had all this beauty to ourselves and Lord knows, we’re not made of sugar!Piper’s Lagoon, after the squall. Within minutes of the storm’s passing, whole families magically appeared. The urge to get outside is clearly overwhelming.From the woods, Jack and I watched a squadron of racing sloops bash their way around Five Fingers Island. We both ached to be with them.Right then, on my count, stand up and reach high as you can. 1, 2, 3. Hello? Hello!Young engineers. It is wonderful to see what a little driftwood and imagination can produce. Beats hell out of any video game. My father’s ashes are scattered in the wild roses here.May you find tranquility,Splendid isolation……and a good neighbour.
On a positive note. We still live in a part of the world where we are free to openly voice criticisms. Imagine enduring this pandemic, for example, in Syria or India or an African state. Throw in Ebola, drought, civil war and general desperate starvation. When schools and casinos will re-open are not a concern. Finding a hospital, any hospital is a challenge. A friend travelling in Zimbabwe last year ended up in hospital after an accident. To be viewed, her x-rays were taken outside and held up to the sun. So how many ventilators might they have on hand? Face masks? Yeah right! Toilet paper; what’s that? We’re doing OK.
After hours of shouting ” Six feet, six feet” to the people on the path, Heckle decided a ‘see nothing’ policy was much easier.
“You cannot get through a single day without having an impact on the world around you.What you do makes a difference and you have to decide what kind of a difference you want to make.” —Jane Goodall
More damned flowers! Another camas bloom. Yeah well…cheer the hell up, whether you like it or not. This is close to visual perfection.It’s a new one to me. This single daffodil variation was growing in the forest all on its own.Dunno! Further up the trail that same morning, another unknown flower blooms in solitude.
A joy of getting older is accepting that nothing lasts forever; neither good nor bad. This pandemic will one day fade into history until something new rears its ugly head. We’d nearly forgotten the Spanish Influenza. All things considered, in comparison, we’re getting off easy this time. Approximately twenty-five million died then and that was without the aid of air travel. We’ve forgotten all the other deadly viruses we’ve endured since. Today one viral carrier can go anywhere in the world within twenty-four hours. More folks than ever take vacation cruises despite all the illness that has been spawned aboard those monster incubators. I am guessing that there are now more cruise ships on the planet than there used to be ocean liners. Perhaps we’ll get up to Covid 49 when the planet’s population is killing itself off with something like toxic flatulence, which might be a viral mutation spawned by all the plastic and genetically modified food we’ve ingested. Imagine those face masks and the bottom filters we’ll scurry to invent. Whoo! Then we’ll look back to the good old days. All they had to worry about was Covid 19.
As flowers fade ferns reach out for the new season.A cold sweat? Sweaty fungus. It’s supposed to be dry under there!
All things pass. I’ve recently lamented about how dry our spring has been. As I write the rain hammers on the skylight above me. The gas fireplace is guttering away in an effort to displace the damp. Jack is wisely in his bed, in a deep state of dog zen, a skill I’m working to acquire. I’m getting there!
Flora becoming earth, earth becoming flora. The eternal cycle of rebirth. Fungi help reduce a fallen alder back to the soil it grew from.
Mexico, which entered the early pandemic days with very low infection numbers is now raging with the virus, and of course, having to fend for itself. You can’t expect assistance from countries which can’t help themselves. Mexico already has huge social issues. With an insidious national presence of violent gangs, masses of corrupt bureaucrats and politicians, some days it seems to be all part of the same self-devouring monster. Journalists and sincere elected officials are regularly executed by one group or another and the poor masses of the country endure medieval miseries. But pandemics are great equalizers, respecting neither wealth or power, good or evil. Perhaps there are fairer days ahead.
Choices. Left or right? Either way is a decision which subtly affects the balance of one’s life.Signs! After your horse’s what? In tense times it seems there are certain people who need to give orders. But…it’s not nice when horses leave their beer cans and snack bags laying around.
I love that country, especially its rural areas and people. I look forward to being able to return there. Yes, it has plenty of violent crime but if you drive there through the US, where there is at least, on average, one hand gun in everyone’s sweatpants, purse or vehicle, you’ve beaten the odds. Just keep your one mouth shut and both your eyes and ears open. That’s a basic rule of survival anywhere and perhaps something our politicians should work out. Please, no more medical suggestions, if even in jest, about ingesting disinfectants.
Third world industry…the hunter-gatherer-mechanic! Having no workshop I resorted to an abandoned piece of rail track in the woods to form some metal bits for my trailer. I found that beloved hammer sitting on the side of the road one day. One of the characteristics of a true sailor is to be an eternal scrounge.Metalmorphosis complete. Give me a big hammer and a pipe wrench, I’ll repair the crack of dawn! And if it ain’t broke…I can fix that too!The organic mechanic strikes again. My homemade folding camper trailer is complete. I’m ready for total social isolation. Now I’ve got to find a donkey to pull it.
The media does not give much press to Mexico, or Central and South America, Eastern Europe, Africa, the smaller countries of Asia; we hear little of smaller Asian nations and nothing of backwater China. There may be little news other than the pandemic and frankly who cares about them when we’re struggling to look after ourselves. Sadly, folks who need assistance most urgently, even in our society, are the last to get it. Life is never fair.
Suspense. Who knows when the drip will fall?One person’s weed is someone else’s flower.
Everyone is tense enough without deliberate provocation. Store clerks are testy, others surly and insular. I get it and have to work at not being reactive. Near closing time in a local grocery store I was challenged by a cashier. “How’d you get in here?” I responded in kind and our interaction spiralled rapidly. I’ve since tried to imagine her workday and feel badly. I broke one of my trusty “Four Agreements,” the one about not taking things personally. And so we learn, over and over.
The rare polka dot maple. After a little wind and rain the cherry blossoms are gone for another year.
Some folks have become maniacal about hand washing. I have always been suspect of public washrooms and would rather not wash my hands if it involves touching soap dispensers, taps, or drying devices. Who’s messed with that? I go so far as to handle toilet seats, doors and handles by using my sleeve as protection. The other day I was admonished. “ Hey, ya dint wash yer hands!” I replied, “Where I come from, our mothers taught us not to pee on our fingers.”
“Wha dar muddle wi me?”
The race. Loser gets the bird. The rain draws them up and then off they go, one way or the other. These guys were all squishing along in different directions.Then came the rain. Once the trillium flowers are wet, their end draws near for the season.And in pink.A berry is born. Soon there will be a bumper crop of salmon berries.There will be plenty of berries to eat this year. Life goes on.
Don’t look down on anybody …unless you’re helping them up.
The incredible Camas. Note the insect enjoying the pollen. These gorgeous flowers were a staple food of local indigenous peoples. They would dig and dry the bulbs, then pound them into flour. You just had to know which ones would kill you!
After I checked my e-mail this morning I followed my usual routine of clearing my bin and my spam file. To my disgust and bemusement there was some spam mail claiming to be solicitations from folks in hospital dying of Covid 19. Lowlifes! In contrast there are certain types of courage I know I do not possess and I offer my deep respect for all the emergency workers, healthcare people and essential store employees.
To get up every weary day and go back to your personal grind, whether it be cleaning toilets, picking up the garbage, stocking shelves, sanitizing medical equipment or nursing sick people is immensely courageous. As much as part of me despises police, I can’t imagine our world without them. Imagine the nutters they have to deal with, especially in our present times. It is all tedious and risky as these folks go about humbly serving their fellow humans. They deserve all the appreciation we can muster. And think of all the parents confined with their children. They now have not even a menial job to go to and must hang their hopes on some politician’s promises. What do you call courage when you have no choices? That resolve and responsibility leaves me with hope for the future.
A chip on the old block. I see this carving as a tribute to all the parents struggling with their personal realities of this pandemic.A sure sign that some children are getting fresh air and exercise. They’re also being inspired to be creative…”Look ma, no computer!” These painted stones are appearing along trails everywhere. I love it!One for Jack and friends.And from a bigger kid! The phantom rock carver strikes again. A ling cod perhaps.Face it! Part of my delight in this wonderful rock carving is that it sits in the corner of a parking area where few people must notice it, although it leaps out once you do. i’d really like to meet this covert carver and express my appreciation of all the work done across the area.
Like many folks my days drag by. Walking my old friend Jack has become a pinnacle of activity. Out for our morning jaunt around a small, nearby lake, I managed to make a mistake. There are now so many Covid signs and “Don’t do nuthin” warnings posted all over that I don’t even see them anymore. I carelessly managed to launch Jack and I against the now-posted traffic flow on the trail. Our first encounter was with an older man puffing furiously on a cigarette and shouting at me that I was putting his health at risk by walking the “Wrong way.” I told him to be careful, an airplane might fall on him and that the smouldering cat turd stuffed into his gob wasn’t helping my health. Thanks very much.
The next admonishment came from two wobbling old ladies with walking sticks who were quite upset about my non-conformist approach. I told them that I was well outside the six-foot spacing, and that the wind was blowing from them to me. I also promised to walk backwards for a while. Blank looks! The old dears were at the very back of a long, hilly loop around the lake. I thought of who would have to risk themselves should a rescue become necessary. I don’t want to put myself or anyone else at risk, but who would have ever thought that a person could walk the wrong way in the forest?
Most people interacted like reasonable folks while we all kept our distance and exchanged pleasantries. The social interactions felt as good as the exercise. The next enraged scolding came from a young man who clearly saw himself as a Covid Cop. I hope that Amazon is soon able to deliver his new uniform despite their backlog of orders. The deluxe costumes will come with a Darth Vader helmet. The face grill can hold a replaceable filter. A built-in a speaker will play echoing pre-recorded warnings including a rasping, gasping cough and various prolonged bubbling wheezes. Other scarier mask options could include, Justin, Boris and Donald.
Covid Cop I have pirated this from the internet and note the copyright. Call the cops!Another covid cop, a bent-barrelled carbinier. Hope he doesn’t shoot someone in the foot.Covid Cadillac…maybe this is the cop’s car! What we drove in days past, imagine taking your driver’s test in this pig! Perhaps it is a social isolation unit, the trunk could house an entire family. Grandpa gets the back seat. Compare these wheels to the full-size pickup truck. How many litres per mile?In the gooped-up rear window. Say no more. Note the yellow pollen specs.
Meanwhile I saw a man hitch-hiking on the highway yesterday. He was gone when I returned a little later. Someone gave him a ride. Turn you head to cough! And oddly, throughout this crisis, I have yet to meet anyone displaying any flu-like symptoms. They’re at home I guess.
Rex In Peace. Deep in the woods, beside a trail, someone’s friend rests in what must have been a favourite place.The rare and highly secretive moss bear. It is seldom seen because it so cleverly disguises itself. Aw c’mon, use your imagination!
Yesterday Jack and I chose a different walk, one we had not taken for years. It meanders out to Jack Point which help protect Nanaimo Harbour from the open Strait Of Georgia and is also where one of our BC Ferry Terminals is situated. We passed the large, and active sawmill next to the terminal, emitting the usual mill din and ash. It was wonderful to hear normal activity. The folks we met on the single trail in and out were friendly and considerate, the weather mild and perfect. At the final long and steep stairway on the trail it was obvious old Jack was floundering, so after a rest, we made the slow return trek without asking more of his valiant spirit. What a wonderful friend! It is very hard watching him age. There is still a spark in his eyes and he is determined to let nothing hold him back but his old pins have nearly run their course. I suppose that soon I’ll have to find him one of those expensive off-road baby strollers so we can still get him out and about.
I wondered as I wandered. How long ago was this small fir cut? Was it uniquely straight or crooked? Did it become part of someone’s boat?Down by the sea, that’s where you’ll find my dog and me. Jack takes a deserved rest. Recently we visited friends on their boat where he promptly fell asleep. He was determined to get aboard. Jack loves boats of all kinds.Low side of the high road. This winding trail is clearly well-used and there is a blessed minimum of signs.
Now, in mid-April, the afternoons are warm, the skies still clear and cloudless. The air is filled with drifts of mixed pollen and dust. We are entering a time of drought…in April! There have been few spring rains, the walking trails are dusty and we are already in a wildfire season. Perhaps our summer will be a wet one, but only fools and new-comers predict the weather. Meanwhile all the symptoms of allergy season are upon many of us which is just what we need in the midst of our Covid chaos. Still, if one must endure a plague of contagion I can’t think of a better place to be. Those who live far from the sea deserve a special sympathy. In my opinion.
High above the roofs of Ladysmith. A harbour view through the blooming Dogwood trees.
“That the man on the throne was completely bonkers said more about the imploding culture than the ruler.” …Mary Beard Rome: Empire without Limit
Try to stay balanced. We’re all on the fence these days!
The main street is nearly deserted. I pulled into one of many available angled parking spots across from the pharmacy. As I reached for the door-handle there was a blur in the spot next to me. A small car pulled in as if it were a brake test zone. The young woman driving was wearing a surgical mask. Had I been a second earlier I would have been mince. No mask would have helped me.
Cold front over the water front. An approaching mass of cold air wedges itself beneath the warm air ahead. All is calm and bright with everyone in social isolation. Any bets on how much longer that boathouse will survive?
There’s a weary old joke about a person who quits smoking only to be run over by a tobacco truck. We fixate on one peril and ignore several others. Think of all the near misses one endures while out driving on any road. You have no control over the other driver and what a single twitch of their hand could do. Danger is all around us, at all times, we cannot escape its presence even as we obsess about the perils of our present pandemic and all the social issues of isolation versus contamination.
Most of us would go completely around the twist if we lost our electronic and cyber web of information and distraction. I was on the phone yesterday with a friend from South Africa. He talked about my recent blog and the sad news of the wolf Takaya. He then related a similar story about a hippopotamus that went walkabout and was eventually shot. The story is about ninety years old but simply by googling “hippo shot in South Africa” I had instant access to several accounts of the legend of Huberta. It is truly amazing how the internet evolved so quickly to become the wealth of information (and lies) it is. Even more incredibly we take it all for granted, accepting whatever is presented as truth.
Behind my back gate.Everybody now! Two days later.
Yesterday morning we awoke to the sound of a train on the roof. Actually it was a burst of rain and sleet which gave way to another sunny morning. The next onslaught of precipitation came just after Jack and I had launched ourselves on our morning wander. Of course. Like the few folks out with their dogs, we all respectfully maintained a two-metre radius and it is suggested that we not even pet each other’s canine for fear of transferring heeby jeebies that way. There are dark aspects to people’s behaviour certainly but that seems outweighed by the goodness and graciousness demonstrated by most but the symptoms of analytis are evident at the best of times and those folks put themselves in a place of auto-distancing by default.
Currently the currant bushes are in bloom.Salmon Berries too
Lollygagging, remember that word? It sits on the shelf just after heeby jeeby, not far before malinger which is a bit before a box marked “Redneck Terms” which are often single-syllable four-letter words far more commonly used, especially in times like these by crusty old dudes like me. Folks will come to understand “Cabin Fever” if they don’t already. That in turn may erupt into a wild rage far more insidious than any virus. When we can all come up out of our lemming holes again, perhaps we’ll find the world a little better place with a newly re-found respect for each other and ourselves. How long those lessons last will be up to each of us.
Trillium Trivectis.Oregon GrapeLooks like Eli is trying a comeback.Face it. We’re all in the woods together.
This morning Jack and I were out and about in the cold crispy air and misty light of early morning. We met no-one else. There were not even any cars on the road. It seems very strange indeed.
Despite my cynicisms about media information here are three online items which might provide some comic relief, dark as it may be.
The first is from New York City where throngs of people crowded together on bridges and the waterfront to see the arrival of the US Navy hospital ship ‘Comfort.’ There are several photos which show folks with mobile phones held high, trying to record the moment.
The next is about the ‘Resolute,’ a small cruise ship in international waters off the coast of Tobago. It was accosted by a Venezuelan navy patrol vessel, the ‘Naiguta’ which demanded the ship allow itself to be forced into a Venezuelan port. Instead the ship, which had been built with an ice-breaking bow, rammed and sank the naval vessel. There were no lives lost and the story cheers me immensely.
And finally, a horrible story from Texas. On an interstate highway a tractor trailer load of toilet paper crashed and burned. Photos show flaming rolls littering several lanes. Hot wipes!
And so another day drags on, hopefully we all find something to smile about. I hope the spring flowers bring a little cheer.
Seasons pastJack’s hammer. He showed an interest but we’ve got too many rusty hammers already. Besides, what if it is evidence?No breathing, no nothing. This is a parking area on the waterfront where folks come to sit in splendid social isolation in their cars and savour the harbour view. Fear the fear.Shy PerriwinklesHave you ever pointed a camera at a crow? You’ve got to be quick. They are incredibly wary.The bomber. A local company, Coulson Aviation, contracts water bombing services globally. This is a Boeing 737, which they have developed for bombing wildfires. Hopefully we won’t be seeing them this summer.Coal flowersThese feral blooms grow a short distance away in the same abandoned coal pile.May your path ahead be clear, level, verdant and full of light…with a few blossoms as well.
“Humanity is not without answers or solutions regarding how to liberate itself from scenarios that invariably end with mass exterminations. Tools such as compassion, trust, empathy, love, and ethical discernment are already in our possession. The next sensible step would be to use them.” ― Aberjhani, Splendid Literarium: A Treasury of Stories, Aphorisms, Poems, and Essays
