The weather has been balmy all week. Cherry blossoms are appearing in obscene densities. I have been travelling into Vancouver everyday and each trip I gaze up Howe Sound at the snow rimmed mountains and the calm blue sea and ask folks: "Do we REALLY live here?"

Breathless headnodding is the usual response.

Yes James...it has been quiet around here. But the only reason I haven't written about Bowen is that I haven't really been here.

In fact, since I hit the road for an extended series of engagements around March 14, there has been a major change in the Cove. The Oven Door Bakery burned to the ground, nearly taking Docs and The Boss with it. In fact, if it hadn't been for the firewall between the buildings, there would have been a five alarm block fire in the village.

The cause of the fire was electrical but more information isn't going to help the community salve the loss of this institution. It was one of the oldest businesses on the island, having run 25 years and was the de facto labour hall around here too, where folks met in the early morning to get set for a day of building, logging, hauling and chucking. It seemed like the place was populated in the morning by folks who did the good work of lifting, hammering, binding and cutting, while those of us who talk, type, manage and write for a living get our morning joe at The Snug.

But it was more than that...long time islanders had a religious loyalty to the bread and baked goods there, and the place boasted a few specialties like the world famous Bowen Bar, and the pizza slices, which were soul food.

All that is left of the bustling little business is a hole in the ground half filled with glass and charred wood. It'll be missed.

And in other news, tonight I sang for Council. Seems that these days our local council begins its regular meetings with a song from an island artist. This week it was my turn and I offered a song about Cape Roger Curtis and the challenge of leading in uncertain times. It was a funny room to play, with folks who were there to hear about council's three year strategic plan politely applauding before turning their attention to "the real business at hand"

But, cyncisim aside, I'm going to stick to my feeling that this kind of thing is actually important. In a room covered with gant charts, binders of assessment information, power point presentations and maps, admitting a moment or two of poetry and melody into the proceedings can have no bad impact, and hopefully our warbling at the beginning of these proceedings can at least have the effect of reminding folks about the deep connections we all have to the beauty and spirit of this place, before they channel their passions into receiving the transportation committe report and approving the Snug Cove plan implementation process.

The Vancouver Sun today has a report on poaching of lingcod and rockfish from Howe Sound waters. I think most of the poachers are probably not from Bowen Island - there are very few here that actually fish, and most of those that do are after salmon, prawns and crab - but it bears repeating that the fish resources of the inlet are pretty delicate to start with without having people haul them out illegally.

The good news, as the article points out, is that the lingcod population which is endangered around here, seems to be coming back. Lingcod are very tasty fish, which makes them susceptible to poaching, and like rockfish, they require several years to reach maturity before they can spawn. This summer, I plan on doing some snorkelling around the rocky parts of the island where the rockfish conservation areas are, and just checking out what I can see from the surface.

So if you're out on the water fishing, just remember that you can't use a hook and line anywhere from Miller's Landing north to Hood Point, and we'll work at keeping these magnificent local fish stocks healthy.

A group of folks on Bowen are openly musing about micro-hydro for the island. There is a thread at the Bowen Online Forum dedicated to this, and I'm linking here to keep this idea alive.

If you have experience with this stuff, let me know through a comment here or email, or posting at the forum. We're especially looking for engineers.

Wild plum

Here is the wild plum at Collins Hall. There are lots more little flowers out now. Periwinkles in the forest (an invasive but pretty groundcover), Oregon Grape and dandelions. The salmonberry bushes are getting their shoots now too and little green things are popping up all over.

It's been really windy the last week, strong southeasterlies, sometimes warm, sometimes cold, sometimes wet, sometimes dry.

After a winter of record setting consectuive rain days, spring is finally trying to get here.

Daffodil, from my friend Leah

Blossom report...

We are awash in crocuses at the moment and the daffodills have also arrived.

And, perhpas more importantly, the wild plum tree at the United Church is covered in small, snowy white, five petalled flowers.

March has come in like a...well...sitting next to Richard Goth here at The Snug, he says March came in like a lion because the wind was fierce last night, but there was no rain and it's really mild today. There is fresh snow on the mountains, but it's about 10 degrees at sea level here, very lamb like to my tender skin. Warm enough for a wool sweater only.

So it's hard to say...in fact we're still talking about it here five minutes later. Richard is convinced that it's a lion. He has just made a somewhat compelling argument that lions are warm and they don't like water and they do roar. Lambs are just meek. It wasn't meek this morning, so I guess Richard's right.

In like a lion then.

UPDATE: I've just gone through my blog archive and determined that this is the first year in Bowen's entire blogged history (dating all the way back to 2002) that March came in like a lion. A MEEK lion, but a lion nonetheless. Richard is suggesting that we go outside and shake some bones to restore the usual gentle rhythms of spring on the coast. I'm seeing it as a sign of climate change.