Tag: journal

Fall

maddy

It was my little girls birthday today. It is hard to believe she is grown up. I remember her having a hard time breathing after she was born. And later how stubborn she was. She could dig her heals in.

In all this time past she has grown into a beautiful, confident young women, while I’ve stayed the same, still worrying about my children, while they console me, never growing a year older or wiser. That’s time for you.

It’s been steady rain for most of the day. Willow and I walked off the mountain in it. It’s warm not close to snow yet. More summer than winter.

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pitter patter

RCE_1105Fireweed.

Rain the last few nights. It feels good. Tonight the stars can be seen while rain hits my face. There is a smell of woodsmoke in the air, not from forest fires but a wood stove.

Most of the garden is in. If I was smart, ambitious and had extra dough, three things that have always been in short supply, I’d build a new fence around the garden. It’s a battle with the deer. They have been leaving their calling cards on the outside of my decrepit fence. By the time they break in they will have my blessing.

There is  a lot of beets and chard we have yet to address. Both are sweet. We grate them and cut them raw for every meal. If we only ate them and nothing else, now until November, there would still be too many.

Lisa and I are missing the pitter patter of little feet on the floor.

finally fall

_LME8510Cooper burying the potatoes I just dug.

Frost behind the mountain, along the creek, as soon as sight is lost of the valley bottom. The leaves are changing. The potatoes are in. Most of the tomatoes ripened on the vine. The onions are pulled and dried.

Lisa and I were deep in the bush Monday morning with our grandkids. It was chilly when we walked the cut block and the road in and out. They took turns calling Willow.

_LME8457Dog tries to steal babies tomato. Scarlett, says, ‘fuck you Willow’. . . not really.

Cooper threw rocks over the bank, liking the way it sounds hitting the snags and boulders on the way down. Scarlett walked the whole way in her moccasins.

_LME8505Hiding out in the carrot patch.

Lisa and I get to show them something they don’t see everyday. Their hands get cold and sometimes hurt grabbing the wrong prickled branch pulling themselves up. They get to see trees living and some old stumps. They already know roots make the best walking sticks, berries with crowns are good and everything light green smells fresh when you crush it between your finger tips.

I just want them to love being here.

Scarlett

Nothing like a garden tomato._LME8487

Early September

RCE_1099Fall Fireweed gone to seed.

Whew! Thank goodness the summer is over. There is always a sigh of relief after Labour Day. All my white clothes have been cleaned and pressed and put away. This morning there was no standing in line at the coffee shop while a herd of tourists looked at the chalk board menu like they had never seen the word ‘coffee’ before. I was in and out like a wedding dink. It’s fall, back to Carharts, plaid long sleeved shirts and not driving ten miles out of the way to avoid downtown.

RCE_1114Solomon’s Seal berries.

It was close to frost this morning. My wise sister Deb has covered her plants tonight. I’m going to risk it. I could be sorry come morning. We have had a great year of tomatoes with most of them ripening on the vine. There won’t be many green ones to ripen inside this year. They are delicious! It will be at least February before I’ll be able to buy one in the store.

RCE_1097.jpgWild Asters.

I got a text from my good neighbour. He is on a road trip going across BC visiting his kids and grandkids. It’s been awhile since he’s been able to do that. I thought he may want to know how his garden is doing, I’ve been looking after it in his absence. Instead, he said his laptop was stolen from his vehicle in Vancouver. He was pissed. In the spring he stopped in Canmore and had a giant block of cheese he bought at Costco stolen from the cooler in his vehicle.

He really has to start locking his doors, but I wasn’t going to say that. I texted back, ‘on the bright side think of the fun you will have filling up a fresh laptop with brand new porn’. An hour later, I was getting worried I’d stepped over the line, then a bing on my phone, ‘you know it.’

RCE_1108Rose Hips. As plumb and full as I’ve seen in the wild. It is said they have 20x more vitamin C then oranges.

It’s good to have the land cooling after another bad summer. Winters are traditionally bad in the valley. Work drying up. Only minimum wage. Cold and overcast in the valley bottom. No doubt this winter will bring challenges.

Fall is underway. The firewood is in. I worry like usual, maybe someday all the demons will come home to roost. ’til then the colours keep changing and the birds keep flying above the creeks.

Joy and Ray

_LME8410smRay Crook and Joy Bond

It’s not everyday you get invited to a 100th birthday celebration. It is especially rare to be celebrating two 100th birthdays at one party!

Joy Bond and Ray Crook are both lifelong residents of Invermere and the Columbia Valley. Their birthdays are within a week of each other. Today, among friends, family and provincial and federal dignitaries they celebrated their birthdays at the old Invermere CPR building.

_LME8393.smRay and Joy with Brianna Rota, representing Kootenay-Columbia federal MLA Wayne Stetski, and Columbia River-Revelstoke provincial MLA Doug Clovechok.

Lisa and I were born in the valley so we know Joy and Ray and all they have contributed to making this area so special.

_LME8390smJoy

Joy is an active member of the Windermere Valley Historical Society. She still cares for a large garden and delivers vegetables to people without a garden.

I spent a lot of time on Lake Windermere in the winter. Mrs. Bond was a wonderful skater and we would meet often and share a few words. I believe she skated and skied into her 80’s.

Ray lives down the street from us and we talk often. I am always amazed at his ability to recall the early days. His father sold my grandfather his first house in Windermere when he arrived back in the valley after WWI.

ray.sm.jpgRay

He told me about cutting trail in Kootenay National Park with my father. How they were chased by a moose and later had to cut a large fallen spruce blocking the trail into Flo Lake.

To have two original citizens of a town the size of Invermere turn 100 in the same week has to be some kind of a record.

There is nothing that can be said or written to sum up such wonderful and full lives.

Lisa and I wish Joy and Ray many more years of health, happiness and peace.

smoke show

RCE_0894s

We had a touch of rain on Monday morning. The smoke has cleared enough to be able to see the mountains.

BC Premier, John Horgan toured some of the places hit by wildfire, shrugged his shoulders in front of the cameras, and said this could be our new normal.

You hear it a lot – this is our new normal.

It’s been two bad fire years in a row.

***

The garden seems to be wilting early. The tops of the spuds are dying off same as the onions. There is a couple of big holes in the garden where the peas and garlic were. The red cabbage has formed good heads and will do plenty of growing once it cools. The carrots are getting large the same as the Detroit Dark Red Beets. Every meal contains both prepared in some form or fashion, from grated raw to boiled to roasted or barbecued.

***

Perhaps it’s the heat or the orange haze that blankets everything. The mountains obscured, the traffic, the gentrification of downtown, yoga, soaps and massage, just another place of haves and have nots, the lake, misted, picturesque if not for the hundreds of motorboats running hither and yon across it’s surface, seemingly oblivious to sky, mountain, shore or water. It’s still summertime after all, but I can’t help feeling sad.

***

The mosquitoes are out in force. If you’ve read this far, you know I find them the least of summer irritants. The nights are getting longer. The moon is waxing gibbous, half full, not blood red. The constellations can be easily seen. The temperature will drop to 5° just before dawn. It feels good.

Everything’s fine I tell myself until it will be again.

it’s story time again

RCE_8820-sm

he blurted it out.

we were talking
about mines
fishing or
forest fires
shit i can’t
remember
exactly
and then
he pipes up
out of nowhere.

celery
makes you
shoot
a bigger
load.

he s about
twenty five
the youngest
in the crew
coming
off a
bad break up
with
a seventeen
year old.

celery
i said
yup he says
it’s what the
porn stars use.

fishing
mining and
stripping logs
were
forgotten.

ole’ denny
weighed in
can it increase
your distance
he was laughing
bits of
sandwich
taking
flight
of his lips.

doctor says my
prostate is
smooth and about
the right
size for
a man my age
but when i wank
it s like stepping
on the end of a
toothpaste tube.

the youngster
was digging in
his lunch kit
for an energy bar.

don’t know about that
he said
just know
eat a bunch of
celery
the night before.

ole’ denny
had sausage
gouda on
buttered bread
and a tin of
beans.

me
a turkey leg
some dressing
and coffee.

next day
ole’ denny was
using a
celery stick
for a spoon
in his beans.

he said
it s not
something
that comes
natural
you have to
work
up to it.

mid august

RCE_0992-Pano.an.smGreen skyglow above the smoke.

It’s green that gives me the most problems. It all looks the same to me. It’s shapes that I look for. Shapes that don’t fit the landscape. That’s the way I was taught to hunt. Looking for curve of antler or back bone sideways instead of up and down. Green gets in the way.

It’s said we see green better than other colours, because from an evolutionary standpoint humans eat plants having to recognize the difference between the edible and the ones that were poison. Our enemies stand out in green. The snake and saber tooth tiger are clocked in a second across the green landscape.

I’m looking forward to fall. When the green turns. It’s already underway. To winter. Long underwear, white and grey, wood on the fire and cooking inside.

***

The smoke is bad. I think of my father, during these times, not being able to breath because of emphysema. The mountains obscured. The sun orange all day, disappearing before it goes below the horizon. The moon, waxing gibbous, never appeared. The good neighbours lights fogged over.

Even the great power denial can’t clear the skies.

Garden

RCE_1067sm

Crazy light when the smoke is thick. It’s like living in a greenhouse, hotter than hell, but no direct sunlight and no shadows.

Willow is hot yet game. She found a mouse under a boulder today. She couldn’t get at it so stripped all the vegetation around the rock. By the time we left, she was panting and the rock looked, out of place, like an astroid that fell from the sky. Luckily the mouse escaped unharmed, it probably has a major case of PTSD.

The garden is dry but chugging along. The spuds are good this year. The tomatoes are small but plentiful. They are coming ripe daily. The kale is still sweet and tender. The cabbage has formed nice heads and will do most of the growing in the fall.