Rain

A Mule Deer doe and fawn get ready to bed-down for the night beside the shed.

It is refreshing to have rain in July. The land is still green, unlike in recent years where it was yellowing and tinder dry at this time of year.

Lisa and I avoided the valley bottom yesterday opting for the higher country. The berries were abundant with the excess moisture. We could smell them on the cool mountain breeze.

We came across a new batch of huckleberries that deserves a better look. It could be a good year for this delicious fruit. We picked a few handfuls that we enjoyed on the spot, letting Willow also have a few.

The garden has taken off with giant heads of broccoli and lettuce. The garlic is just about ready to harvest. Peas and beans are developing pods. Raspberries are ripe. Carrots are fingerling. All and all it’s looking good.

Thank goodness for the coolness.

Notice the fawns camo spots between its eyes.

Botanical

Up the creek early, before the sun, the tourists still asleep after tearing it up.

Osprey

The river is full reaching almost to the top of the banks. Flowing quickly to the north. Catching the red willows, straight as arrows, flicking them forward until the spring back in a gracious whip. Green mud that mixes perfectly with the sky. Colours you only see at this time of year. A calendar without dates only sounds, bird calls, trickles and thunder. Smells like heat and moisture, the service berry ripening, some call Saskatoons, sweet, and the river running with high country snow and last nights rain.

The osprey doesn’t recognize me. It leaves its nest and circles above. Sizing, evaluating threat. I try to let it know we are old friends, but feel its distrust.

So often they would follow above as I walked the paths of bush to the lake. Back then it watched as my mind was on fish, railroad tracks, the spring in poplars, the wind putting a ripple on the water, just enough to obscure the weeds and fish swishing shadows, languid almost undetectable during calm, as I wondered how they saw their prey during a storm with a chop on the lake. Other than that I was oblivious most of the time, happy to roam the shore. A whistle would make me turn skyward or to a snag then back above to the railway and someone approaching. My signal to move along, to avoid the day being interrupted by the crudeness of conversation or worse, a scolding or beating. Once further down the shore or back under the canopy of bush the osprey would have followed. But I didn’t keep track back then.

The mosquitoes had me. Lifting me among the clouds. They buzz in my ears and around my nose, I shut my eyes and try not to swat, in case I am to fall from such a height. Above the river I can’t see the fish through the summer murk. The osprey still holds me in its eye, assessing, wary. Its wingspan and hooked beak, turbulent, knowing honour can put it at risk. I hope it can see through the chop on the surface, through time and hurt, even if I can’t.

Wet

Willow, low to the ground, soaks up the rain enthusiastically running the bush.

Lisa makes me keep my boots outside. She says they stink. Sometimes she makes me put a blanket over my socked feet when I am sitting inside for the same reason. If I let her have her way the socks have to live outside as well.

We have been getting some rain lately. On the weekend I failed to move my good boots into a sheltered area outside and they got rained on soaking them thoroughly during the night.

I had to wear on old pair of boots that had holes in them. My feet got soaked on my weekend hikes with Willow. Lisa didn’t seem to be sympathetic to the problem. Meanwhile my good boots still aren’t dry 3 days later and my feet keep getting wet in my old boots.

I realize these aren’t much for problems in this day and age. I’m just happy Lisa thinks it is the socks and boots that stink. If she ever figures out who the real stinker is I’ll be locked outside in the rain.

An old pair of my boots Lisa has repurposed.

Scatter

Noticed a big waning gibbous moon a couple mornings ago. It stayed well into light, hanging around till damn near noon. I used to be up on these things. Moons, birds, when the orchids would bloom to the day. Now it is lucky to get out.

It could be age taking the energy, or the job. Can’t work like I used to. It takes a bit to recuperate. No sense bitching. It’s not my invention. There is only bone on my shoulders these days and it ain’t coming back.

Good sense cackling in fury and ranker, or high in spirit like the Redwings in the marshes dashing between the cattails, leading hither and yon, it is hard to tell, regardless there it goes, fluttering jumping in the breeze getting smaller between clouds of mosquitos, still a marvel, one day gone for good.

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.

Foraging

A good way to kick a few days off. We went to the Palliser River. There were a few camps of people picking mushrooms, in the area that burned last year.

We picked enough morels for soup and headed through the burn further up the river. Lisa was glad to leave it behind saddened by the burnt areas and clear cut logging. Fires, although devastating, are turning into a huge business for British Columbia. I try to remember the landscape as it was and what it will look like when it heals.

We got beyond it into the Royal Group, cut some firewood and watched the creeks and clouds.

A very fine day!

Thin Moon

A tight crop of a 200mm frame. The crescent moon is 6% or 7% illuminated.

A crystal clear morning. Venus came up in the morning dawn. The sun caught the top of the peaks in the west before it rose over the mountains. The thin moon rose just before the sun. It was an old waning 6%. Due to its thinness and the morning light it was hard to see. I needed the binoculars to spot it at first. A Robin came and sat close to me and a heard of young Bighorn Sheep ran, about 50 yards in front of me. The way they were going I expected to see something like a coyote or cougar on their heels, but nothing. Something riled them however. The river is still clear and runs slow beside the tracks. Not long now the wetlands will be full. Next moon probably. Very fine morning.

Crank

Easter weekend. The tourists and second home owners from Alberta are running amuck. CBC says money is tight, the US is going to swallow us up whole, but you wouldn’t know it looking at these folks.

The Flickers and Starlings are fighting over the holes in trees to build nests. The Ospreys are back working on their home beside our old house. They seem to be the only commuting second home owners I have any use for. A Bald Eagle is perched over the river below the bridge an eye out for easy prey. They better do it quick before the river is covered in white bloated tourists.

***

The town as we turn into a small city stinks. The sewage lagoons are not working again, the bacteria having died. A common problem as we outgrow our infrastructure. The sewage will get flushed into Toby Creek that will soon start to back up into Lake Windermere. Invermere officials thinking it is long gone flowing downstream once in the creek, while they allocate funds to grow business and entice more second home and short term rental investment. I haven’t met one small town politician who didn’t think it is money that makes the world go round.

***

The US Whitehouse continues to implement and sustain tariffs. It is difficult to know their reasons, they say it is to bring manufacturing back to it’s home soil. But what if it does what economists say it will and make everything too expensive to buy? Would that be such a bad thing. I think our appetites could use being curbed. That is probable not the intention of the US. Sooner or later though we are going to have to slow consumption. Fill these big second homes, that are only lived in a couple months a year, with people who need housing. Wouldn’t that be something.

***

Canada is in the throes of a federal election. In our riding it will be an easy lay up for the incumbent, Rob Morrison of the Conservative Party. Mr. Morrison was parachuted into the riding in 2019 to challenge the hapless NDP candidate, Wayne Stetski a true dullard. It has been a lucrative and easy position for Mr. Morrison. One that he can keep doing for as long as he chooses.

The Conservative Party of Canada, under the leadership of Pierre Poilievre, looked like it would hop, skip and jump over the listless Trudeau into power. But not so fast, with the US in the state it is. All of a sudden conservatism doesn’t look as sweet to Canadians.

The CBC is firmly behind The Liberals and Mark Carney. So much for impartiality in media. And why not, their bloated budget is on the line as Mr. Poilievre threatens to cut their funding if elected. The CBC is fighting for their life even if it means getting behind Mr. Carney, a high minded banker who has never garnered one vote from the Canadian electorate.

The theme is we need someone to stand up to Donald Trump in the Whitehouse and their desire to make Canada the 51st state. Something first said, as a barb to Trudeau, that didn’t even dignify a response has now become our main election issue, ramped up by social and mainstream media.

It is with this in mind that Poilievre and Carney are offered up as saviours. Like most politicians, two guys I wouldn’t trust to lead me across the street.

***

Behind Swansea, down on the creek, the rain kept up. A few buntings topped the trees. Deadfalls snapped half way up blocked Novembers once clear path. My pant legs soaked through keeping up with Willow.

Slip Slide & Away

The Milky Way above the Fairmont Range. The Dark Horse Nebula can be seen to the right of the central bulge of the Milky Way.

Willow and I were up early. The moon was due to go down at about 4:30am. Our goal was to catch a bit of the Milky Way before the coming sun started to wash it.

We were off for the end of the lake. The pick-up slid in the mud. It has been clear and warm during the day, but chilly at night. We broke through the ice skimmed over the mud holes, churning this way and that trying to stay out of the ruts.

Just about at our parking spot, damn near level with the lake, I underestimated a strip of mud, letting the truck slide deeper and we were stuck.

There was no going forward or back. We were already in four wheel drive. I shifted the beast into 4 low and it still wouldn’t budge.

I got out and surveyed the situation. It is usually a foot and a half step to the ground out of the truck. This morning the step was just about level with the mud. We were stuck. It was dark. There was only one thing to do. Go looking for the Milky Way.

Willow looked at me sideways as if to say, this is where we are going to park?

We walked up the hills overlooking the lake. Willow stayed close with the coyotes yipping.

The moon was down in the west. The Milky Way stretched east to south. Antares, the heart of Scorpius was well up above the horizon. The Prancing Horse whinnied as if chuckling at our predicament.

We walked to the waters edge. The geese were at it, establishing territory, gearing up for flight. Once it started to get light we headed back to the truck.

I laid some broken branches in a corduroy fashion, shovelled mud and water and did some rocking, lots of rocking. Finally, like a stubborn tooth, the muck let loose and the ship sailed onto solid ground.

The only way out was forward, so I had to turn around and go back through the cranky puddle. Fortunately, I had realized the err of my ways and picked a more favourable route without incident.

Once home it was like Lisa knew I had got stuck. It could have been we were later than usual or the mud soaked up to my knees. She reminded me I wasn’t thirty anymore. I assured her we weren’t stuck, just parked for a while.

Interesting morning.

Palliser Pass

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Tag: humour