Ray

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Last month we had the honour to accompany Ray Crook out for his 101st birthday supper. 

Lisa and I took him out for his 99th and we attended his 100th. His 100th was a big celebration with lots of his friends and dignitaries.

The conversation was good as it always is with Ray. It seems we always learn something. He enjoys talking history and told us some tales of Kootenay National Park where his family had a service station at what is today, Crook’s Meadow.

Ray also talked fondly of my Grandfather and Father. He and my Father cut trail throughout the Park when they were young men, boys really. Many of those trails they cut, such as Floe Lake and Marble Canyon, are now used by many people.

Ray liked going to Strand’s Restaurant for fish and chips. Unfortunately, it recently closed so we went to Elements at Copper Point Resort. Lisa and I thought it was a good choice because we knew they served fish and chips, not that Ray eats a lot; he does, however, like his ice cream.

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Many people came over and wished Ray a Happy Birthday! A little girl came over to see what was written on his dessert, when she saw 101 she had a look of amazement!

We were treated to dinner by one of Ray’s old friends Bernice Hathaway, a long time local, who now lives at the coast. She said, she only wished she could be there. She stays in touch with Lisa and Ray and was insistent she pay for our dinner out. There was no arguing with her, as often is the case when it comes to the generosity of her and Ray’s generation.

Ray enjoys good health, a sharp mind, likes to laugh and can still climb into my truck on his own, which he always remarks is very quiet. We should all be so lucky.

Bradshaw Shank Redemption

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The good neighbour and I were given a few plants this year. I’d requested them and thanks to a couple sisters three plants were given to me in early spring. Much earlier than I usually start plants.  I passed on two to my neighbour as he is much better with young plants than me. The last one I was able to keep alive until it was ready to be transplanted outdoors in May.

They were seeds from Aaron Bradshaw’s plants that he gave his sister, Linda the year before. 

Linda started them on her windowsill. Aaron had left the parent plants for his sister when he died of cancer.

The plants were young at the time he passed, but grew in his sister’s backyard. It’s possible Aaron used cannabis for pain or comfort during his battle with his sickness. More than likely, it was something everyone here grows up with and knows helps with many everyday events, happy, sad, life affirming or life threatening.

Aaron was a year or two older than me. We ran into each other plenty. His father and my Grandfather were good friends. The first time I met him, I remember clearly, we were both just tots. My father took me to visit his father. Aaron was running around their house wild. Of course he was showing off for me and probably wanted me to play. But his speed intimidated me and I stuck by my father’s leg.

After that, even later, he knew he had my number, I knew it too. Growing up in this area you had to be tough. Aaron always knew I looked at him meekly. Once, long ago, he stopped me on my bike and asked me to borrow it. This is how a bike was stolen in those days. It happened a lot to me before I hit ten. He said, he just had to do something then he would give it right back. 

I gave my bike to Aaron, figuring where he might dump it twisted and broken. Instead he brought it back just like he said he would. 

Later in years, when ever we ran into each other, usually in the bar, we would talk, share some stories, about fishing and hunting. We always mentioned his Father and my Grandfather’s friendship. Like there was a bond. And there was a bond. We both grew up in this place. A place that seems to be cruel to some of the people who have been here the longest and love it the most.

Our families have had their share of feeling it. 

The plant in my garden put out some big early buds that have been enjoyed by many. I am unsure what strain it is, but it’s a deep powerful one.

My good neighbour’s plants turned out to be a male and female. After I told him about Aaron and the origin of the plants. He decided to breed the two plants  and we now have seeds for many years to come.

The good neighbour calls the strain Bradshaw Shank Redemption. I think Aaron would have got a helluva kick out of that.

fishing

RCE_3375.jpgLisa & Scarlett.

Hope is something you have if you love. It can’t be any other way. The world is vast, changing all the time, the end of the world comes suddenly and everyday for so many, as it will for all of us.

RCE_3383Free range.

That’s the end we’re supposed to be afraid of. It’s the gift that makes the fear disappear.

RCE_3496As good as it gets.

You don’t get many days fishing in September. To waste them is a sin.

RCE_3467Wild child.

The magic in dragonflies at water’s edge, or a daytime moon guaranteeing the fish will bite.

RCE_3585Dressing the catch for supper.

I’ve heard it

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Seen it this way before.

Still disconcerting.

It looks hopeless,

this time with science

on their side.

It was in the sixties. . . or seventies

eighties even

they said it the same

but different.

addiction

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It’s time to get serious, I’ve been told and I’ve been told more than once. The rivers sure look promising, same as the muddy water in those gypsum sink holes, I used to dive when I was younger. Every single time I thought I was going to die. Sometimes instead of coming up I’d keep swimming down. I did it because it was hard. Everything trying to pull me up. The air in my lungs, lifting, my eyes open, facing the current. Stinging. Looking for a breath. That’s the way it is on any given day.

mouse

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My dog has her tip toe shoes on. She is after a mouse. Walking slowly from edge to edge. While, more than likely the mouse is running scared. The mouse’s best chance is Willow falls asleep.

Surprise, surprise we have more than one mouse.

Perseids

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You know you’re getting old when you go downstairs to get something but forget what it was once down there. Then as soon as you are back upstairs you remember. . . ah my teeth.

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Wet on and off most of the weekend. I can’t say I’m disappointed. It’s good to face the warm rain. I prefer it to smoke any day.

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The Perseid Meteor Shower is underway, but will be obscured by the moon and clouds, at least, for the next few days.

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Was behind the mountains looking for Huckleberries. There was a few, along the cut, under the small pines. Picked enough for a taste. Time is scarce these days. It seems I’m due off the mountain as soon as I work the tension out of my joints.

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These days it’s the far off dangers we fear while the small seemingly inconsequential pains go ignored. Crooked small town politicians, poor education and inadequate health care for everyone but the rich gets a pass in the face of such impending doom dominating the 24 hour news cycle.

We would all better off if we worried about the crooked little bastards running the local schools, weaselling away money while looking forward to retirement. Or the entire bunch of our small town and provincial politicians, changing the landscape to benefit themselves.

There is plenty to get riled up about right under our noses, before even thinking of Trudeau or Trump, in truth, two narcissist, blowhards that should be ignored while we focus on events closer to us, including the lives of neighbours and family, substantially more important.

long weekend

_LME3237Dave rolls a dart, Chewy licks the papers. It’s a joint effort.

Damn, this has been a busy long weekend. Calgarians tailgating everywhere they go. All in a hurry to have fun. Making the most of it, they must figure.

While driving through town I saw two incidents of road rage. All four involved were from the city. One had a Flames front licence plate, stealing another’s parking spot. Cue the horn, hand gestures and expletives. I am ashamed to say this warms my heart. I wish the Flames were as aggressive.

It never ceases to amaze me how people act on holiday while trying to relax.

It also never ceases to amaze me the wealth that flows into the valley. If Alberta is hurting, we don’t see it here.

Also, if there is a climate crisis we don’t see it here. It’s big cars, trucks, boats, RV’s, ATV’s and huge second homes built as close to the water as they can get away with. All spewing CO2, polluting the land and water. Perhaps when they start worrying I should too.

Some of these folks can be counted as our most vocal environmentalists. Always reminding us they love it so much this is where they decide to vacation, drive, boat, ATV, fly, build, spend their money and die. Don’t think I don’t appreciate it. I have a $16 an hour job because of it.

Tonight the sky is blue. The breeze is warm. My arms are tanned and I have a full garden of food.

Very fine day.

distinction

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It smells like dynamite in here, maybe not dynamite, but caps, the ones cracked open between rocks.

Not sure about the righteous or bad. They both have the power to corrupt. Plus they knock on the door mighty early. . . or late. Either or.

Am I left to figure it out, global warming, class action, fake news, bitcoin, psychology, gravity, astrology, all the rest. . . it’s like the g-spot; if 95% of the experts are arguing and can’t decide. . . what hope is there for us mere mortals.

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Flippant, my mother said.

Now we had a relationship.

The day I was born, she probably, thought,

fuck!

I’m too old for this.

40 was old back then.

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I love the word flippant and

guzzle, tankard, daredevil,

also a bunch others.

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Knowing words

I can’t pronounce.

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Still, look where we are, dreading the news,

forgetting what got us here,

the dust, all the wind,

floods and

thunderstorms.

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I’m okay with it!

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It seems indiscriminate.

The best we can hope for,

ro dun dent

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A mouse has decided to make it’s home in our studio. It has chewed the weather stripping at the bottom of the door. I blamed Willow at first, thinking she was scratching at the door, though I’ve never seen her do so. The mouse has even got into my big teacher’s desk and chewed into my bag of veggie and flower seeds.

Willow knows it’s inside and it drives her nuts. She sniffs and snorts and follows it from one hiding place to another. Once under the old Heidelberg press it is safe. Willow falls asleep with her nose beside the pallet.

If Willow doesn’t pick up her game I may have to buy a trap.

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The garden has gone from wet to bone dry over the weekend. It doesn’t take many sunny days to parch the earth.

The garden is producing more than we can eat. Tonight it is mixed salad including kale, spinach and chard, beets, carrots and spuds.

Another week and the zucchini and squash will be ready. 

The beans are also on the rise, this year will be quite a crop as it seems every seed germinated.

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A lazy Sunday after a busy week.