A Cold Warm

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.

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 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.

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.

Good Work

It is good to feel fall. It hasn’t been chilly. No sign of frost. The garden tomatoes are ripening.

Everyone I talk with is happy to have less tourists. It should be noted, these are folks, me included, who depend on tourism to live. It would be like a miner wanting the coal to disappear or a logger who didn’t want to cut down trees. What would we do without the thing we hate. The thing that feeds us.

A female Kingfisher hanging out on the old bridge.

It’s more reason to grab hold of every piece of peace you can, wherever it comes from. There is plenty in your control and more that isn’t. Figure out the difference and influence what you can. It’s good work if you can get it.

Late August

Darker mornings. Cooler and it feels good. Been rearranging the wood pile to make sure last years wood gets burned first.

Good to get out mid week and walk up the mountains.

There is still a lot of tourists doing dumb things. Lisa and I ran into a bunch today. They can’t help it. They have been told they can’t do the things they have been doing for years due to Covid, and the recent forest fires.

It is a free for all now. Just look at the news.

Tourists, especially from Alberta, have taken a stand and, damned and determined, hell or high-water, regardless of right or wrong are going to do as they damn well please. They have been held back long enough. Unfortunately, they exercise it on vacation.

I mention Alberta, but it’s the same everywhere in cities. Too many people too close to each other with the only thing in common is buying shit.

If you live here you see it. Even the part time workers can’t wait to get away come September.

It’s a different world. One where you can’t believe the news, reliable sources have become sketchy pushing an agenda.

Everyone has bought in, taking from what they want to believe. Forgetting there is only one truth and importance, helping.

Hope

The smoke has returned. We have had several wind storms that have caused the local fires to flare up. The Horsethief Fire has caused Panorama Resort and surrounding homes to be put back on evacuation alert. Still we are better off than many parts of BC and the Yukon where cities have, started, or been evacuated.

***

Last week during the Perseid Meteor Shower the skies were free of smoke. Shortly after smoke rolled back in. Lisa is finding it hard to breath.

***

The valley bottom, including the town of Invermere, historically was grasslands. Due to fire suppression and development it is now mostly trees, shrubs and buildings. Drought has become commonplace. The trees and underbrush is dryer by the year. It will burn again as it previously has done even without the added effects of climate change. We won’t be able to prevent it.

+++

Meanwhile the tourists continue to travel here and can be found at every back country lake, on every gravel road and on every smoke filled patio. Recreating, hard, like everything is fine. I don’t understand. Maybe they are trying, like Jim Morrison said, ‘To get their kicks in before the whole shithouse goes up in flames’. It doesn’t encourage me to hold out hope for where we are heading.

Perseids

After an evening nap Willow and I headed for the bush. We got out walked here and there, getting our bearings. It’s been awhile since we have been out at night looking skyward.

We were lucky to see several Perseid Meteors. Lucky as well to get a few pics.

Perseus, The Andromeda Galaxy and Cassiopea. The meteors didn’t cooperate for this photo. If I had’ve slipped into that creek Willow would have ran through bush and thicket down the mountain, following me to the Columbia River.

It was clear and the moon, waning into a thin crescent, stayed down until mid morning.

Hounds Tooth, The Milky Way and a bright Perseid.

We saw deer, an owl, porcupine and rabbits. Luckily Willow didn’t see the porcupines.

The second picture of the night captured a long Perseid Meteor.

I can’t see in the dark like I used to. If I was younger I’d give tonight another go. I don’t think last night was the peak.

We were out of the mountains and at work on time at 5:30 am. Willow slept in the truck.

A very fine night.

Luck

Hoping for clear skies. I will be heading into the bush shortly to spend the night looking for Perseids, with plans to go straight to work in the morning. It should be a short day. I’ll be bushed and Willow will have to hang out at work for awhile.

The moon is close to new so won’t come up until about 4am so won’t be a problem. As long as the clouds and smoke can hold off it could be good viewing.

Judging the peak can be a crap shoot, I’ve been lucky and not so on occasion. The trick is being out where you have the best chance of seeing them. I compare it to fishing. You never catch anything if you don’t put a hook in the water. The truth is, catching them is only a part of the fun.

***

Pulled some of the garlic today. It is Russian Red hardneck and looks good. Big bulbs that take up almost my entire palm.

The grasshoppers wanted no part of them. They were planted last October and had to be dislodged with a pitch fork and thoroughly shook to dislodge the soil.

Now I have to figure out what will be seed and what we can eat. Good gardeners say to save the biggest heads for seed.

It was a good year for garlic, despite the challenges the garden endured.

In the end, like most things, it comes down to luck. All you have to do is show up and put a line in the water.

take the duck

I’ve made a terrible mistake. In the spring when the grasshoppers were eating the garden I started planting things that they didn’t seem interested in. They ate every carrot so I didn’t replant them figuring it was pointless. The grasshoppers left the small zucchini plants alone. So I planted more of them. Now I am overrun with yellow, green and patty pan zucchinis.

It has become impossible to manage. I can’t give them away. A small one today is a wooper tomorrow. I’ve made a terrible mistake!

***

The skies cleared last night. It’s the first time in weeks the mountains have made an appearance. It lifted everyones mood.

***

It is busy at the resort. Everyone is frazzled. Moral is good. It is an amazing bunch of workers. Most are young adults from throughout the country. They are expected to work hard and without exception they all put in a full shift.

I have worked in places, including the government, that that wasn’t the case, and the people there were getting paid twice what these kids make.

***

A coworker showed me a photo they took of four woodpeckers in the same tree. Two woodpeckers in the same tree means a cold winter.

Wasps, this year, have been building nests under ground, that means a cold winter.

My good friend Scotty from the Secwe̓pemc First Nation used to say, it will be a cold winter because the white man has a big woodpile. Damn, we used to laugh.

Shit! My woodpile is over flowing.

It could be a cold winter.

Scotty, if you are listening, kick me in the nuts and take the duck!

Teller of Tails

Willow has been a pain in the arse lately, catching scents through the open windows at night. She does a low bark, woof, woof, not at her usual full volume.

She seems to do it as I am just falling asleep after getting up to pee. Her woof reminds me that she has our back and I also need a drink of water. While up I put her out. She sits on the step. Not getting down to pee or shit. She just watches.

I bring her in, and go back to bed. Before long it’s woof, woof, low, just enough to get my attention.

It could be ghosts she is nudging me about, spirits I can’t see, or a skunk outside the window. She has never been able to tell the difference between a mouse or cougar and treats them the same.

Still, I’m blind to both and appreciate assistance, regardless of annoyance.

Travel

If someone asked me what has changed with the weather, I’d say, it’s windy now especially when it is hot in July and August. You can almost feel the moisture being sucked out of the ground. I can’t remember it that way when I was young.

I may be wrong. I am often called an imbecile by plenty of folks because I’ve never travelled. I can’t argue with them. However, I know what I see, the garden backs me up as well as the lake and mountains. I feel sorry for them, they are changing, some would say dying or even burning. I feel sorry because of the abuse. Still, they will be here much longer than we will.

We had word a fire was threatening the power supply to the valley. I thought about the food I have in the freezer. I thawed a leg of lamb and made vindaloo for the clan. Not a summer meal, but cooler than roasting it in the oven.

Several fires have started near by in the past couple days. The Horsetheif Fire came over the ridge this afternoon. It looks to be moving quickly. Edgewater, a community 25km north of us, is reporting burnt ash and needles falling on decks and vehicles.

The wind driving the fire is blowing south/east while a thunderstorm came in heading north/west. A double whammy.

Meanwhile, I am on my perch, where I’ve always been, the imbecile that I am, listening to tourists from Alberta race up and down Main Street in loud cars, RV’s and motorcycles.

This weekend I encountered a group of old bastards about my age, there must of been thirty of them, riding Indian Motorcycles all dressed in chaps and leather vests with the Indian insignia. I couldn’t help but think looking at these dip shits that we are all doomed.

It won’t be coking coal making steel that is our demise. It will be rich fuckers getting on planes, entitled to do as they please, without consequence, that will catch up to us.

Not that anybody’s listening, if you want to make a difference, stay home. Don’t bring millions of dollars worth of toys into a place you know nothing about just because you can. Stay home and make a life there.

Palliser Pass

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Tag: poetry