The first summer we moved to Bowen Island, Aine was four and Finn was just a nine month old baby. When he went to sleep at night, Aine and I would take a drive up to our very favourite spot on the whole island, at Smuggler's Cove. We would sit on the rocks and watch the ferries come and go to Langdale, while seals played in the water.
We returned there today, on a day when one of our budgies died, and walked quietly among the bladderwrack and mussels remembering life when Aine was smaller. We didn;t see any seals, but we did see a pelagic cormorant and hundreds of white-winged scoters doing circuits around the island. Also, the young alder saplings were full of warblers and kinglets and robins.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
New birds, quiet beaches and coffeehouses.
Yesterday was sweet. Warm again in the afternoon after a cool and rainy start to the day. I was in town yesterday and I walked back through Deep Bay and along Pebbly Beach and then up to Miller Road. I stopped for a while on Pebbly Beach to stand by the ocean and drink it in. Standing right on the place where Wolfgang Duntz, one of our neighbours wants to put a big concrete and steel pier for the docking of his boat. Resolved more than ever that that is a bad idea.
Whilst standing in a state of rapt meditation, a loon called out from water. Always a surprise to hear these birds on the ocean, so strongly are they identified in my mind with my younger years spent on the lakes and rivers of Ontario and Quebec. A common loon warbling in the calm of a spring afternoon was perfect medicine: it made me ache to get our canoe on the water.
After getting home, I wolfed down some dinner and headed out to The Happy Isle Cafe where an open mic night was in progress. A number of musicians and poets had gathered to lay out some good stuff, poems about our place in the cosmos and our place in the family, songs about the soft places inside hard men, and the things we cling to. Aine and I sang together, which is something I love. She has The Gypsy Rover nailed, and she sang beautifully. Then she joined me on a couple of other songs.
A nice way to ease into the long weekend.
Whilst standing in a state of rapt meditation, a loon called out from water. Always a surprise to hear these birds on the ocean, so strongly are they identified in my mind with my younger years spent on the lakes and rivers of Ontario and Quebec. A common loon warbling in the calm of a spring afternoon was perfect medicine: it made me ache to get our canoe on the water.
After getting home, I wolfed down some dinner and headed out to The Happy Isle Cafe where an open mic night was in progress. A number of musicians and poets had gathered to lay out some good stuff, poems about our place in the cosmos and our place in the family, songs about the soft places inside hard men, and the things we cling to. Aine and I sang together, which is something I love. She has The Gypsy Rover nailed, and she sang beautifully. Then she joined me on a couple of other songs.
A nice way to ease into the long weekend.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Stormy weather
This morning the temperature is dropping and the clouds are building into Howe Sound. A complex of mini lows and a deteriorating front are moving into the coast this morning, and in advance of all of that. the winds have swung southeast and come up. Probably blowing abou 30km/h now, from dead calm an hour ago.
A flock of black scoters just flew by low over the water and there are other birds around too. The last couple of mornings, a yellow warbler has joined the dawn chorus and yesterday, in Horseshoe Bay, I spotted my first violet-green swallow of the year.
A flock of black scoters just flew by low over the water and there are other birds around too. The last couple of mornings, a yellow warbler has joined the dawn chorus and yesterday, in Horseshoe Bay, I spotted my first violet-green swallow of the year.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Home again and a loss
Returned home from a trip to the States by sailing over smooth waters on a pictre perfect day - the nicest of the year so far. It's warm out even tonight and this evening we had dinner on the front porch for the first time this year.
Got home to find out that Ken Seed died a couple of weeks ago. Ken was a great character, and a purveyor of fish. I always bought my sides of salmon from him, smoked or just fresh frozen. I recently traded a side of smoked salmon I had with an Elder from Northern Ontario for five pounds of wild rice.
I have always enjoyed visiting Ken and Marguerite's house on Woods Road. It is an old cottage with a vaulted ceiling and an eclectic collection of wild animal skins, excellent kitchen ware (Ken loved to cook) and interesting knick knacks. You could never just go over there for a few minutes; there was bound to be a story or an invitation to try whatever was simmering on the stove. You couldn't help but ask about the skins on the walls. Ken would happily chat about his hunting trips and Marguerite never stopped praising his cooking. I once backed into a ditch getting out of their impossible driveway and Ken just dropped what he was doing, rolled up his sleeves and got a chain together to drag us out again. You always remember the folks that have you out of ditches.
So on this beautiful day, my condolences go out to Marguerite on her loss, a loss which is shared by many Islanders today. On to your reward Ken!
Got home to find out that Ken Seed died a couple of weeks ago. Ken was a great character, and a purveyor of fish. I always bought my sides of salmon from him, smoked or just fresh frozen. I recently traded a side of smoked salmon I had with an Elder from Northern Ontario for five pounds of wild rice.
I have always enjoyed visiting Ken and Marguerite's house on Woods Road. It is an old cottage with a vaulted ceiling and an eclectic collection of wild animal skins, excellent kitchen ware (Ken loved to cook) and interesting knick knacks. You could never just go over there for a few minutes; there was bound to be a story or an invitation to try whatever was simmering on the stove. You couldn't help but ask about the skins on the walls. Ken would happily chat about his hunting trips and Marguerite never stopped praising his cooking. I once backed into a ditch getting out of their impossible driveway and Ken just dropped what he was doing, rolled up his sleeves and got a chain together to drag us out again. You always remember the folks that have you out of ditches.
So on this beautiful day, my condolences go out to Marguerite on her loss, a loss which is shared by many Islanders today. On to your reward Ken!
Bowen Juggles worldwide
A great report from Paul Stewart on the Bowen Island Juggling Club World Domination Excursion to the Victoria Juggling Festival. Next weekend, Paul and Calder head down to Santa Barbara, taking our little club's imperial plans to the international stage!
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Bridge to Bowen now official
Here is the artists rendering of the design for the new bridge to Bowen Island. The bridge is being called the Union Bridge in honour of the historical legacy Union Steamship Company and the union of Bowen with the mainland.
Looks like our ferry woes will be finally resolved!
Thanks to Nat for breaking the news.
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