A Matter of Daze

Today I am dazed and confused by the raging blizzard outside the windows of my east coast home.

Winds gusting to over 100 km/hr. The world a snowglobe being shaken by a hyper-kinetic poltergeist.

Snow is heaping in impassable drifts on the driveway as the world outside appears and disappears in swirls of white.

And yet mere days ago, on the other side of the country...

my farewell walk around the neighbourhood presented tiny daisies in green grass,

an improbable palm tree proud of its curb appeal,

streams rushing with the promise of spring,

and an elderly couple taking a leisurely stroll

 along the beach, as I basked in the warm afternoon sun.

After enjoying an unusually dry and sunny winter in Vancouver these past four months, I find I have arrived back to my east coast home in time to experience what is being described as the worst storm of the winter, and this after one of the coldest and snowiest seasons in years.

At least the wood stove keeps us feeling cozy as the old house groans and strains to withstand the force of the roaring winds, and we know that eventually spring will prevail.  Won't it??

A favourite spot

My favourite park is Cates Park (now called Whey-a-wichen).  My teen years were spent near here, and the park proved a place of solace from all that teen angst and poetic melancholy.  Prior to moving to the area, we'd lived in a very urban setting, so the park was really my first solo experience of walking in the woods (on a well-groomed trail, mind you).

Last summer, my mother sold the family house and moved into a condo in the same area, but at a greater distance from the park.  Yesterday, I trotted off to see just how far it was on foot from the new abode and was delighted to find it a mere 30 minutes away, all downhill.  I spent a refreshing hour or so walking through the trails and sitting on the beach

...and getting lots of photos...before climbing back up those hills home.  This, I believe, will now be my daily exercise and meditation program.  And photo indulgence.  I hope you'll be able to join in...

Stumped

Let's take a break from the cold and the snow and take a look back to a sunny day about a week ago.  On a walk through Cates Park, I came across this dancing tree stump.

Is it just me, or does this look like a female figure? 

I may be barking up the wrong tree or even barking mad, but I really think there is something quite magical, perhaps even mystical about this Formerly Known as Tree creature.

Look at her markings, as distinct as tattoos;

and her character lines, wrinkles and bumps that skin is prone to as it ages;

look how she grips the ground with her knobby toes.

But most mystifying of all is what must be her navel.

If we flip the image on its side, a most mysterious creature appears...

It has the look of a cave drawing: "primitive" art.

Certainly an animal. But which?

A wild boar, perhaps (though there are none in these parts);

or maybe a porcupine, judging by the quills.

Do you see it?

Or do you see something else altogether?

While you ponder this, why don't you climb up into the lifeguard's chair and sit awhile.

As the sun begins to set,

 tell me if you don't feel something a little mystical in the air. 



PS. As I look at the first image of the "navel" this morning, I see a bearded unicorn, viewed from above,galloping down a road, mane flying in the wind as it looks over its left shoulder. How many others see this, I wonder...

Coasting Through Cates

One of my favourite places to walk, to be, to breathe, is in Cates Park near my mother's house.  I feel so lucky that in these early days of December the sun is still shining and I can enjoy good brisk walks.

I used to come to this park when I was a teenager; it was my first real awareness of "being in nature."

Often I come to the park to ponder questions that have been stumping me.

Although sometimes I feel it's better to leaf them well enough alone.

There are textures, colours, and ready-made collages to be found at one's feet that never leaf me uninspired.

There are tangerine-toned fungi all puckered up and red leaves that look like  whiskery, lipsticked kisses.

There are parsley-shaped leaves, green furry moss, and mushrooms shaped like cauliflower ears.

And in the distance, there is almost always a ship, usually the one seen from my bedroom window

although this morning I was rather surprised to see a cement-mixing truck being towed up the inlet.

While I'm at it, how a boat an altered view from my window?

Still coasting along,

Heart On

"Take another little piece of my heart now, baby..."

I pass this message of love carved into a cedar tree each time I walk through the trails of Cates Park.  I've never carved my initials into anything, other than funky clay crafts, and as far as I know, no one has ever carved my intials with their own into any substance, other than, perhaps, the very fabric of their lives, or maybe into a slab of butter.  Fabric tears, though, and butter melts, gets eaten up, or goes rancid.  Love changes, moves on, lingers, gets stale, is forgotten, lives forever, but is never regretted.  Like hope, love springs eternal.  Or the hope for love does. 

I once burned a pile of love letters and dumped the ashes into the recess of a stump in this park. I also pass by that stump each time I walk these trails.  I remember the story, but it no longer carries any emotional impact for me.   I sort of wish I had kept the letters, though, because they were creative and amusing, ...not declarations of love at all, really, but funny illustrated stories that were a record of a time of discovery in my life. 

I guess blog postings are like little love letters that we send out in hope of connecting with others, of being recognized and cherished in some way, no matter how tenuously, at least for a time.

I was going to share a Bruce Cockburn song called "If a Tree Falls in the Forest" but I prefer the way this one fits with my random bloggy thoughts today.

All Fired Up

We have a guest blog reporter today in the form of photos emailed to me by my mother out in North Vancouver, on the other side of the continent to where I live.  Seems there's a sporty little event happening out there on the west coast called the Winter Olympics.  She got a great picture of the flame being paddled by proud members of a local tribe when it arrived in her neck of the woods.

Being an observant sort, my mother noted that the war canoe looked familiar.  In fact, we had seen it the previous October when I was there visiting.  I had taken a picture of it sitting outside a neighbourhood garage.  We had wondered what it was doing there.  Now we know--getting tuned up for its big Olympic moment.

And here's another torch-bearer enjoying her big Olympic moment.  My mother said there was an enthusastic crowd on hand, in spite of the drizzle, to cheer the torch bearers on. 

A parade of sorts rolled down the highway, spreading more Olympic enthusiasm and leaving very large carbon footprints...er...tire tracks.

I'm quite taken with this big red truck that's admonishing us to "open up happiness"...in the form of Coca Cola, supporting the Olympic dream since 1928...back when real cocaine was part of the ingredients? 

Some enthusiasm in action.  Note the Canadian flag in the background, the Olympic volunteer in the foreground, and a man with a fibreglass penguin middle ground.  He said that he has taken his penguin to 19 different countries and introduced it to numerous celebrities.  A different sort of Olympic sport.

My mother says of this little creature: " Miga is an official Vancr. 2010 mascot and the tale is "Miga is a young sea bear who lives in the ocean with her family pod, beyond Vancouer Island, near Tofino, BC

Sea bears are part killer whale and part bear. (Miga is part Kermode bear, a rare white bear that only lives in BC.)"

Let the games begin!

Walk With Me

Yes, we're going back to the park. The sun unexpectedly came out so it's the very best thing to do. Don't forget your house key--or your camera! This is the main entrance to the park. I usually sneak in the back way but today I'll give you the grand tour.

Fall foliage, lush carpet.

We're not the only ones to enjoy a walk in the park.
Woof softly but carry a big stick!



This time we go right through the park to the pier. There's no fishing or crabbing allowed for the next few weeks but there are big fish jumping out there! The gulls seem pretty interested.

Let's go down for a better view.


(Just jump over the comments box!)

If we look one way, we see the shoreline of the park we just walked through.

Looking the other way, we notice that this area is less groomed and there is some industry in the distance.

At the foot of this industrial area, on the far right, is a small, bright blue shack where a locally famous poet once lived. My mother loves to tell the story of how she and my father once found him face down in the park, groceries strewn about him, drunker than a skunk. I forget his name, so his reputation is safe with me!

A pier, a tug boat, a barge. Local colour. Like an E.J. Hughes painting. He's one of my favourite artists. His work has become hugely popular since his death a few years ago. Look him up on the web. His paintings are vibrantly colourful and evoke a playful feeling of life on the west coast of BC.

We are looking into Burrard Inlet. Far in the distance is the Second Narrows Bridge which links the north shore, where we are, to Vancouver. We could sail off in the Pacific Ocean to San Francisco...or the Orient...or New Zealand...

But not today. I'm ready to head home for a nice cold, white cranberry BC Cider. Would you care to join me?

Kla-how-eya!

Down at my favourite near-by park there is a totem pole. Near the top you can see Eagle's beak sticking out. At the very top are two chiefs--you can tell by their hats.

And if you look a little closer, you'll notice that one of the chiefs has a real feather in his cap, in the form of a cedar seedling, perhaps planted there by the trickster Crow.

At the base of the totem, we have a human being well-cared for by Bear while a double-headed sea serpent looks on.

Human is maybe not too sure about this situation. You can tell by the look in his eyes and the expression of his mouth.

I took these photos earlier on in my visit here. Lately, it's been raining hard and I've been caught up in family doings and recovering from my ongoing sniffles so haven't been out gathering pictorial souvenirs. In their stead, I offer the protection of the beings in this totem pole to all who come by to visit, whether or not your mocassins leave a trace in the blog.

"Kla-how-eya!"

is a greeting meaning, “Welcome!” or “how are you?” in the Chinook language.