Tag: fiction

Snow

About 8 inches of wet snow fell last night. The roads turned slick. We were due in Calgary, but decided to reschedule.

I have included another couple of pictures of the eclipse. I was happy to be able to capture some of the stars around the moon, usually impossible during a full moon as its shine drowns them out. Regulus can be seen above the moon and several stars from the constellation Leo.

***

I changed the oil and filters in my truck yesterday. I haven’t done that in a real long time. I usually take the truck down to Cranbrook an hour and a half down the road for service. People ask why I don’t get it serviced closer to home. The answer is: I’ve always done this. At one time I knew most of the mechanics in the valley and I didn’t want to dislike them. Mechanics are notorious for fucking up and it’s never their fault. Granted they have to keep up on ever changing technology and it can’t be easy. So I drive 150 km out of my way. That way if I’m pissed off at the quality of the work it is at a place out of sight and not at a mechanic I play hockey with on Sunday night, or see at the school picking up their kids.

Now, I have to admit, it probably cost me more to change it myself. First, I bought synthetic oil and a good quality filter.

Second, I had to make a trip to the hardware to buy a six point 15mm socket because the goddamn oil plug was in so tight. The wrenches I had were twelve point and I didn’t want to round off the plug, or I would have been going to the mechanic for a real big bill, and the mechanic would not have spared me from letting me know what a fool I was.

Third, I checked online to see where to take the old oil for recycling. The first place I took it wouldn’t take it, the second place said they stopped taking it. So I drove it over to the landfill who said they don’t take it, but gave me the name of a place that did, and surprise, an hour and a half later and a few litres of Trumps expensive gas, I finally got rid of it.

And fourth, my pants and jacket become thoroughly dirty from lying on the ground, requiring me to spend more time and detergent washing them. Actually, I’ve kept them hidden waiting for a good time to show them to Lisa.

So there you have it, done in by my own hard headedness. Which is a common occurrence.

Willow

November 2014 – February 2026

Before Christmas, Willow started coughing. At first, I thought she might have swallowed some water or picked up something she shouldn’t have. But when it didn’t stop, we took her to the vet. An X-ray showed that her heart was very enlarged — so large it nearly filled her entire chest cavity and was pressing against her trachea, which was causing the cough.

The vet prescribed medication, and thankfully the coughing stopped. She seemed to return to her old self.

From the time she was young, though, we were always told she had an irregular heartbeat. Sometimes it beat so lightly that, over time, her heart grew larger. It’s almost funny, everyone who knew Willow always said she had a big heart. In more ways than one, that was true.

Unfortunately, the coughing returned in February. Even then, she still loved her routines; eating well, going for walks, and sitting in front of the fire. During the day she managed quite well, but the nights were harder.

On her last day, she visited all her favourite places. She even barked at her favourite lady at the Tim Horton’s drive-through, and of course, she was rewarded with a Tim Bit.

On February 17th, Willow passed away. She was not in pain. She was in Lisa’s and my arms.

Willow shared so many adventures with us. The mountains feel different now without her. We always had an unspoken agreement to keep each other safe. She took her job seriously, more than once chasing bears up trees, and doing her best to keep flying creatures away (not ideal when you’re trying to photograph them). The Wire-Haired Dachshund is known as courageous, intelligent, stubborn and loving. Willow was had all of these traits. She could also be funny and seemed to take joy in making her people laugh.

During the Olympics there was a commercial featuring an AI figure-skating bear. Every time it came on, Willow, even though she wasn’t feeling good, would leap up, run to the television, and bark.

Willow gave us everything she had for eleven wonderful years. We are all going to miss her. It’s going to be hard without her.

Friends

Dog, departed companion
I told you that the sky would fall in
and it did. How will we see each other again
when we’re without eyes? We’ll figure it out
as we used to when you led me back
to the cabin in the bush in the dark.

Jim Harrison

Willow with her winter coat. February 2026.

The Big Little Dog.

Tracking.

Summer coat.

A Cold Warm

Winter tree.

Rain in the valley bottom. I was sure the lake was going to go back out. It hung in there but the ice is thin.

Lisa and I headed into the mountains yesterday. when we started heading up the rain turned to snow and covered the trees and turned it into a winter wonderland. Willow chased snowballs and looked a little like a snowball herself.

Today I went back up and the snow had turned back to rain. The snow covered trees had shed their layer of white. It was foggy as temperatures adjusted. It has been a very mild winter so far.

Bohemian Waxwing.

We headed for the lake and ran into a flock of waxwings looking happy. Somewhere along the way Willow decided to roll in what I believe was goose shit. The warm weather has revealed smells for her to discover.

Back when I was a kid if our dog rolled in something they weren’t allowed in the house. They had to stay outside day and night until they were deemed fit to come back inside. I mentioned this to Lisa but she didn’t think this would be fair to Willow. Instead she said I should give her a bath and told me Willow’s shampoo is in the left drawer of the bathroom cabinet.

The Ol’ Boneyard.

The bathroom cabinet is under the sink. It has 2 drawers and 3 cupboards. I realized then, as it had never occurred to me, Willow and I share one small drawer in the bathroom. Shampoo, tick repellant, cider vinegar for skunk smell and a couple razors. The rest of the cabinet is for Lisa’s stuff. I mentioned this to her and she said, you two are low maintenance.

It’s bound to get cold sometime. I wish it would hurry up. This mild wet weather always makes a body feel cold. A warm cold.

On Thin Ice

Fresh ice under a waxing gibbous November moon.

A thin layer of ice formed on Lake Windermere in the last couple days of November. Very late compared to years past. Since I usually skate on the lake in November, and wasn’t able to due to the thin ice, I took the opportunity to get in a final swim. More of a dunk actually.

I creeped out on the ice until it cracked and I went through. I had an axe with me to chop my way to shore if needed. Willow wasn’t happy with my choices. Even she knows thin ice can’t be trusted. Lisa took the photo and told me explicitly beforehand not to expect her to save me.

***

The good neighbour was having vehicle trouble and broke down a few miles from home. He asked if I’d give him a ride and help him get it going.

A little tinkering and we got it going. It sounded like shit. Which isn’t totally unusual as the good neighbour has always driven beaters. He usually got them through a trade of one sort or another. At one time he would drive them until they died and then leave them in his yard. I guess his thought was he may get them going again. Then he would start filling them up with other stuff that wasn’t working, but he might get going again. Kitchen appliances, screen printing equipment, even big stuff that made you wonder how he got it too fit. He had a 60 inch TV in one of them. He called them his treasures and reminded me he’s never had a car payment.

Once we had his car going and we let it idle for a while I followed him home to make sure it didn’t break down again.

He says he has some travelling to do over Christmas so he is going to have someone look over the vehicle.

A few days later he texted me and said Grant took a look at it and it still starts. Grant is one of his drinking buddies and is a retired grocer. I, as well, have drank with Grant and if there is something I know it’s that he is not mechanically inclined.

I texted back, ‘You had Grant the grocer diagnose your vehicle? Most people in the same situation employ a mechanic.’

He texted back, ‘That’s a little harsh. If I only had your looks.’

There you have it. The good neighbours vehicle has been given a clean bill of health by Grant the grocer and he is set to take it on his Christmas tour all over British Columbia in the dead of winter.

As long as it rolls out of his driveway he is good to go.

Late November

A Bighorn gives a stretch.

A little colder as of late, but overall, a mild month. The lake is still open and it doesn’t look like I am going to get my usual skate in before the end of November. 

The ground hasn’t been frozen until last week. The garlic has had a couple extra weeks to establish. I don’t know if that is good or bad. We shall see.

Mr and Mrs Carrot.

Up behind the mountain today. Only a couple of inches of snow, none in the valley bottom. I cut a few cedar boughs along the creek for Christmas decorations. Lisa makes wonderful wreaths.

***

A week ago I saw three very large Bighorn rams in Radium. A few days later I went back looking for them. I found two, the third, the biggest was nowhere to be found. While I took a few photos a young woman stopped to look as well. She said it was reported the largest one was hit on the highway.

Full curl. Those horns have seen some action.

Incredible considering there are fences, speed signs and even an animal overpass. The woman was from the United States and said she couldn’t believe how fast everyone drives around here. She was referring to the highway through the Kootenay National Park. I told her those are people from Alberta in a hurry to get out here and have fun. I told her Albertans are Canada’s Texans. She laughed and seemed to understand immediately.

Now, before anybody gives me shit for that comment, I realize we have our own share of yahoos in British Columbia. I could well imagine residents of small towns three hours from Vancouver probably hate being taken over by people trying to escape the city.

Regardless of jest, considering all of the precautions in place and provincial money spent, it’s a shame to see Bighorns being killed on the roads.

***

Saw a large heard of elk on the side of Swansea. The bulls kept hidden.

Kale still putting out in late November. No wonder Kaleman is so tough.

Fading

Comet Lemmon, you are going to have to take my word for it!

C/2025 A6 (Lemmon) is quickly fading from view. Since it was clear Willow and I thought we would give it one more go to spot it.

This time I took my 20mm wide angle lens knowing that if the comet could be seen it would appear very small in the photos. This is the lens I am most comfortable using for night photography because it gives such a large view of the sky. It also allows me longer exposures before the stars streak.

The sun went down and the full moon came up behind us. It dipped quickly to -4°c, which felt chilly. I am going to have to toughen up if I plan on making it through winter. We walked around where Slinky and Ara are buried. It is truly a beautiful spot. As the sky turned blue and darkened we spotted flashes of white as we jumped several White Tailed Deer. They were quick not to stick around. It reminded me of hunting with Dad. Seeing the best game when it was too dark to shoot. Both because you couldn’t see the far sight on the rifle, and more importantly, it’s against regulations.

The full moon illuminated the mountainside. Only the brightest stars could be seen. Of course, the moon also washed away the comet. Still I had faith and pointed the camera in the general direction of where it should be.

Moonlit night.

Both Willow and I were glad to get back to the warmth of the truck. We picked our way along the back rounds, through frozen puddles, staying the best we could above the ruts. Such a pleasure in my life to putter along old and overgrown roads. I used to do it with a beer in my right hand, now it’s a coffee if anything. We stopped at the lake. It was calm and the moonlight reflected the mountains. I listened for fish jumping. Willow heard something and gave a bark. Her echo barked back at her and then the barking match was on. Willow looked at me seriously, ‘there is another dog out here’.

Time to head back to the valley bottom and the warmth of bed.

An enlargement of the top photo. Due to moonlight, even blown up, Comet Lemmon is hard to spot.

Dysfunction

No chance to see Comet Lemmon this morning through the cloud and snow.

Some big juicy flakes fell but didn’t amount to more than a skiff. Still nice to see.

***

This year while working as a manager I had the misfortune of dealing with quite a few troubled workers. There is more and more people racked with anxiety every year. Mostly young Canadians who didn’t make it through the Covid lockdowns unscathed. It is a shame to see. It makes you wonder how they are going to make it.

But the worst was a 50-some-year-old alcoholic. Drinking on the job, late, cranky, emotional, miserable, complaining, missing days, injury prone, sloppy, hungover, driving drunk, fucking up and lying at every turn. He also has done a turn for beating his kid, wife and mother. All despite a three month stretch in rehab paid for by the government. An absolute pain-in-the-ass to be around. A complete dysfunctional boozer!

Now I come from a long line of functional alcoholics. Guys who wake up and make it to work on time. Keep putting one foot in front of the other regardless of headache or sickness, putting in an honest days work usually for themselves, raising their hands first for the tough jobs, keeping their mouth shut, they don’t drink until after the shift and laugh it off. Granted they are not easy to live with and they’re their own worst enemy, but they don’t fuck up at work. Guys like this are a dying breed as we all become a bunch of snivelling whiners.

I felt like grabbing this worker, smacking the shit out of him and teaching him how to be a goddamn man. Of course that would have been a trip to HR. It made me more angry that he couldn’t handle the booze than what a complete fuck-up he was at work. Hopefully the government will spring for another session in rehab as some people just shouldn’t drink.

Luckily I didn’t have to deal with him long.

***

Garden Planted

Damn it feels good to have a few days off. The rest of the garden is planted. The tomatoes started in the basement are on their own and look healthy. They looked happy to be planted. Of course we had a short windstorm today that knocked them around. It’s up to them now.

We’ll see if anything comes up. The birds are enjoying the sprinkler as it has been dry with not a lot of runoff due to low snowpack in the mountains.

***

The other day Lisa thought she heard something in the basement. She was right, it was a scratching and banging in the stove pipe. I opened up the pipe and nothing. I checked the chimney and stove, still nothing.

That night the banging and scratching started back up. Willow did her job letting us know of potential intruders. We didn’t get much sleep.

In the morning I took it all apart again and nothing. Once I put it all back together the noises resumed.

We went to Cooper’s soccer game. When we came home the noises were still coming from the pipe but now they were coming from where the pipe joins the stove.

I opened it up and there was an American Flicker, a type of woodpecker hiding in the flume. It must of, somehow flew down the chimney. When I had opened everything up it would go back into the chimney where we couldn’t see it. Once it went down the pipe to the stove it couldn’t get back up.

Lisa opened the basement door. I reached in and gave it a nudge. The Flicker burst into flight and flew across the room and straight out the door.

We couldn’t have been happier. I’m sure the bird felt likewise.

Real estate

A male Western Meadowlark, does it’s best, giving the sky shit while trying to get laid.

Lisa had a late start this morning. We spotted a few Meadowlarks and Ospreys, while heading into the bush. Less snow than the other day. Willow and I walked down the mountain getting muddy.

***

Real estate is going crazy in the valley with many listing selling the same day they hit the market.The property I grew up on has just been listed again.

I come from a long line of men that buy high and sell low. There truth is I’ve always felt the same regardless of my bank account. With that said, Lisa and and I have been lucky enough to have never seen our kids go hungry.

I have tried to instil in my children that money can give you freedom and nice things. I’ve done this mostly by posing as a negative example. Believe me a negative example is just as powerful as a positive one.

My brother and sisters sold our family property and house after my parents passed away many years ago. We sold it for a price recommended by the realtor. It sold the day before it hit the market. The realtor made more money on the deal than any of us did.

It was bought by a couple small time local developers. Lisa and I knew them well. Our kids even went to school together. We knew them for what they were. I would run into them here and there and they would say how they were going to turn into a Bed & Breakfast with nature paths around the property. In short a bunch of bullshit. Which was fine with me. The only thing that bothered me was that they thought I was stupid enough to buy their shit.

After sitting on the property they sold the property for a cool $200,000 + profit. Not a bad take and who can blame them.

The second Alberta developer had grand plans, buying the 3 adjacent properties and proposing a large 10 story resort.

The Mayor and town council of the day was all too happy to rezone the property salivating over the taxable business they promised. Of course it was, as well, bullshit.

They kicked the renters out of old family home and left it unlocked and vacant. Its turned into a crack house. Police were called often. Nobody complained to the Developer because the promises they made were still in play.

It was heart wrenching to watch the home we grew up in being abused in such a way. I called the developer myself and told them to board the place up. I had a newspaper at the time and wrote editorials about corporate responsibility, that did not endure me to our advertisers that were waiting on the developer to deliver on the 10 story hotel that would put Invermere on the map.

I remember going down to the house late at night and walking through it. It was like I was a ghost. The inside was graffitied, garbage everywhere, crack heads had started a fire in the fireplace and burnt part of the mantle, a cedar plank from a washed out bridge in the Palliser my father and I found and spent days sanding by hand.

There were bodies in every corner passed out among garbage and feces. It crossed my mind, just briefly, to bash their skulls in. It would have been easy, but the truth was I was angrier at the developer for letting this happen.

I do have a regret. I gave it a great deal of thought, over the year the house was used as a crack house, I considered getting the derelicts out and burning the place down. Again it would have been easy. The only reason I didn’t was I knew the fireman and first responders would have to charge in to try and save the people who were using it.

Eventually, after many phone calls, I shamed the developers into tearing the house down. These people and our own Mayor and Council were some of the worst people I have ever had to deal with. Absolutely blinded by their own ambition and the pipe dreams sold to them.

***

Regardless, of that history. Our house was a place of love, flawed at times, but nothing, looking over the sun coming up over the lake, or walking into the surrounding bush couldn’t cure.

***

The property, thanks to the previous developer is zoned for just about anything, condos, commercial, multi or single dwelling even a 10 story hotel. The realtor I talked to said they expect it to sell to a wealthy Albertan looking for a lake view. There is no shortage of those guys. Guaranteed, like usual in the valley, they will care less about the history that came before.

***

The property is offered for 1.2 million. It’s not for me. I buy high and sell low.

damn near november

Strange days, despite the pandemic valley businesses had a very lucrative summer. Tourists from Alberta and other parts of Canada flocked to the valley, as travel to other countries was off limits. The resort I work for had a banner summer. We were run off our feet due to being low on staff. Hiring enough people was difficult due to the Canada Emergency Response Benefit (CERB). I don’t blame people for taking advantage of the program instead of making minimum wage and risk getting sick.

Now CERB is wrapping up people are becoming available to hire. The resort has hired two more people in our department. There was plenty of funds to do so from the money earned and saved on wages in the summer.

We sure could have used the extra hands in the summer. Now that it is slow we are standing around looking at each other. It is brutal, we are almost fighting over who gets to change a light bulb.

So, I decided to take my accumulated holidays rather than try to look busy. When I get back I hope we have plenty of snow to shovel.

***

It will be nice to have a week off. The weather is the shits and isn’t expected to get better, still, I may head into the bush for a few nights to clear my head. The stars are mostly hidden by clouds, yet a fire and tent listening to rivers and wolves may be what the doctor ordered. It won’t take much hiking to be in a foot and a half of snow, waking up cold with Willow shivering beside me. It is good for both our souls (did I just say arseholes?).

***

Was up wondering around the old mine today. Blue lake is almost completely filled in. While standing above looking at the small part of remaining bottomless blue, I realized I haven’t made it far in life. I mistakingly tried to live the same life as my father and grandfather, not changing while the world raced on leaving me in the dust. A small walk away from were I stood was where I shot a rifle for the first time. It was before I was in school. As my father instructed I lay on the ground, he put the 22 against my shoulder, told me to look down the sights at the oil can about 30 yards away. He told me to steady and hold my breath and squeeze the trigger. When I did so the explosion rang in my ears and the oil can jumped. It was exhilarating.

***

A good friend asked me to pick him up from work today. His truck is in the shop. Across the street from where he works is my Grandparents’s farm. It was several acres. The old house still stands, dilapidated but still occupied. The property has been subdivided over the years. Back then it stretched down to the cemetery on the edge of the lake. Now it consists of a trailer park containing the only people that live in Windermere year round. Closer to the lake a bunch of million dollar second homes owned by Albertans who could care less for what came before and really why should they.

***

The point is I’ve continued the tradition of buying high and selling low. I should be sitting on my ass letting the new guys do the little work there is instead of taking vacation in November.

***

I’ve never been patient or thought much about the future, preferring instead to dwell in the past. Not sure I’d change it if I could.