Rolled out of bed early to get a look at the eclipse. Once in full eclipse it was brilliant red. It is intriguing as it goes from full moon to eclipse. Once the moon is in the shadow of earth the stars come out. Including the rising Milky Way in the east.
This is a quick picture. This is the first time taking a lunar eclipse with a higher resolution camera. I will look over the rest of the photos in the next day or two.
Willow would have really enjoyed the morning. So strange without her keeping the perimeter.
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.
There is a line up of planets worth taking a look for. I knew it would be very unlikely to see them from our spot on Earth. The mountains get in the way and it would be light. Still you won’t see them if you don’t try. I was hoping to get Venus, Mercury and Saturn in one shot. Unfortunately I was only able to see Saturn in the twilight with Venus and Mercury already below the mountains. I might give it another try tomorrow. I did get a good look at the waxing moon, Orion and Jupiter. Very bright twinkling Sirius, reminded me of Willow absent on this walk above the river with the geese honking below.
Yesterday was tough, hearing the news of the school shooting from Tumbler Ridge. In the coming days, there will be plenty of comments on why it happened. Most will not be helpful.
It is tough to comprehend the feelings the people of the small town must be experiencing. The whole of Canada is in mourning for the families touched by this tragedy.
When I was young, I feared many things. Somehow, though, I believed I had a measure of control over those fears. I could outrun them, outthink them, or at least convince myself they were manageable.
I wonder what children think now, growing up in a world where news travels instantly to the palm of their hand. A phone can feed fear twenty-four hours a day. At certain ages, it is easy to focus only on the darkness and not yet understand that life bends back toward light. I suspect many young people feel powerless—not just over the world, but sometimes over their own thoughts and emotions.
If my grandchildren ask about this tragedy, what will I say? How do you promise safety in a world that offers no guarantees?
Lisa and I have tried to make our house a safe place for our grandkids—a place where they know they are loved unconditionally. We try to show them beauty in small things. They help me in the woodpile and the garden. Lisa shows them how to bake and keeps a huge supply of art supplies for any project. We have supper together at least two times a week, where we talk about our day. We want them to feel safe and to feel they have some control, maybe not over the threats of the world, but over how they approach them. All we can do is love them.
Last night, I went looking for stars and peace. It was after midnight but before the moon was up. I could hear the creek flowing under the ice. The mountains were in outline, and the familiar constellations were holding their own.
My mind eased if only momentarily. I stopped before the creek to make sure I didn’t break through the ice in the dark. There may never be true safety. You can only take it all in and know that good will offer a path. It may never be safe all the time, but the more often you look for good, the more often you will find it. Unfortunately there is no consolation for the people of Tumbler Ridge and the families suffering with heart breaking loss.
We missed a good episode of Auroras a few days ago. Lots of cloud cover. It has cooled off a little, but not enough to clear the skies. The snow has melted in the valley bottom and everything looks grey and dusty in the lengthening day.
Along the great Columbia River where it starts as a trickle.
The first clear night in a long while. Warm weather in winter is usually accompanied by cloud and we have had our share.
It’s tougher to stay up late for Willow and I. We had intended to head into the mountains. But the thought of breaking through snow to the knee stopped me. Willow would have been okay. The warm weather softened the snow, with the cooler weather putting a hard crust on the surface, but not enough to hold me.
We stuck to the valley bottom. And headed for the source of the Columbia River. The warmth has robbed the ground of snow and has left a layer of ice. I walked carefully. I could hear Willow’s nose going constantly. She is slowing down, grateful for the smells that still cause a wag and bark.
The Old Geary Place with Orion standing guard.
The winter stars were out in force. Orion ruled the dim end of the Milky Way, Sirus twinkled so much when I caught it in the corner of my eye I thought it was a falling star. Jupiter shone bright above the great chase.
To see it in force, while I try to make sense of it all, knowing all along it’s all a best guess is somehow comforting.
A fine night to count the stars.
Winter stars and Jupiter. The Beehive Cluster in the top left corner and the Pleiades Cluster in the top right corner.
Only a thin layer of ice remains on the south end of Lake Windermere. Looking close you can see the ice breaking up. The ice is about midway in the lakes 12 mile length.
Incredibly mild weather for December. +6°c, rain and a stiff south wind. The ice on about half of Lake Windermere has gone out. In the sixty, some odd, years I have been observing the lake I cannot remember it doing so in December.
The ice was late forming this winter with only a thin skim by the end of November. I am usually skating on the lake by the end of November. This year I went for a swim instead.
Standing at the north end of the Lake near dark. The ice in the foreground has been blown to the shore.
In the early 2000’s, when I was with the newspaper, I can remember writing an editorial mid December to be careful on the lake ice as it could be unsafe. It had been mild that year. The point of the article was to warn tourists and second home owners to be mindful as they may have been used to driving on it in December. The way it looks this year the tourists and vacation home owners could be putting their jet boats back in for the Christmas holidays.
The lake in winter has always been a special place for me. Skating, skiing, driving and fishing. There is nothing like being out there in the cold and quiet. Whenever I have had to endure pain I’ve always thought of the lake and the silent white surroundings while standing in the middle to get me through. It is what I imagine heaven to look like. It truly is a remarkable place.
We are expecting more warm weather. If so I can only guess the rest of the ice will break up and flow down the Columbia.
If my old friend Ray was still alive, he passed a few years ago at 103, I’d ask him if he’d ever seen this before. I would bet he would say no and be equally surprised. As I’m sure my Dad would have been. Christ, I’m an old-timer now and I’ve never seen Lake Windermere open in December.
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.
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.
Palliser Pass 