Wednesday, August 25, 2004

Yikes...pouring rain tonight. We've probably had close to 10 mm of rain this evening. It's warm but it does feel like a fall soak. We really needed this.



Unfortunately what we don't need is the rain inside the house. Tonight as I write we have a leak in our mudroom and some damaged drywall. I think it's a result of overflowing eaves which filled up with fir needles last week in the rain. We've got a big bucket catching water and first thing in the morning I'll be on the little porch roof drying everythig out.



Tuesday, August 24, 2004

Sort of crappy weather lately. Sunday we had a full on autumn downpour which was much welcomed by the parched earth on the island. As it felt autumnal, we all headed out to the trail around Killarny Lake to hang out in the forest trying out various new pieces of rain gear. Notable was the preponderance of both Red-legged frogs and Pacific tree frogs hopping all over the place.



Friday, August 20, 2004

We're home from a trip to Ontario, and as usual things have changed.



The ocean is very warm, warmer than Lake Huron even! Night skies are opaque due to smoke from the hundreds of forest fires burning around BC. We are low on water again this summer. The crickets are out in full force, having started in July and chirping steadily stronger since then. There are eagles dancing in the sky above Deep Bay.



There is a Waco of development happening on the island and I'm starting to feel it. Three new houses are being built nest to each other here in Seven Hills. One of them is replacing an old cottage but the other two have been erected on lots carve from the bush. Cape Roger Curtis is selling and there is great uncertainty and controversy about its fate. It will probably be developed for houses. There is a lot of shouting and worry at the moment, which will have to eventually settle into something more constructive. The developer Wolfgang Duntz, who I have always had some respect for (he has gifted a lot of stuff to the community) is having a bad summer. First he overcut on the golf course development, invoking the wrath of private landowners and the environmental regulatory agencies. Now he has circulated an essay on why preserving Cape Roger Curtis would turn Bowen Island into the West End of Vancouver. The essay makes no sense, and really skews the purpose of those of us who want to see the Cape preserved in some fashion, even if some development has to go ahead.



The tone of things is bitter, bringing to mind the debates of last summer over the ferry marshalling. Perhaps we need the fall to cool our heads and find our way. But I don't think this issue is going away that easily.

Sunday, August 1, 2004

Finn has discovered the remarkable pleasures of first swimming and now snorkeling. In the past two weeks he has taught himself to swim with his face in the water and today he has learned to use a mask and snorkel so he putters up and down the surf line looking at rocks for long periods of time. It's funny to see a three year old skin diver, Cousteau Jr.



Tonight was the annual firefighter's dock dance, and evening of live music and reverie on the dock at the Dallas Marina. It's a fundraiser for the volunteer fire department and one of the highlights of the year. We waited too long to get tickets and got stumped at the gate. That wasn't the only tragic news of the day though. More importantly, the firefighters had a substantial amount of the pre-dance sales receipts stolen from VONIGO, the pottery shop in the Cove that sells tickets.



Whoever stole the firefighters' money has a hard life ahead of him if he's caught. I hear they are looking for a specialist to send into burning houses to save people's pets. It's just the kind of community service a thief that steals from charity deserves. Not to mention the fact that this moron stole from firefighters. These are big strong guys, well known and respected in our community with narry a single enemy among them. Where does this fool think he is going to hide? If I were the guilty party, I'd be making an anonymous return of the money in lieu of a creative public humiliation.