Blogtober 5: A Sunday Walk

 

Beautiful sunshine beckoned us outdoors this afternoon. The light danced on the water. Breezy gusts tugged leaves from the trees, and twirled them around in a dance as they fell to the ground. 

The water in Tod Inlet looked odd today with streaks of red and brown. A quick online check told us that there was a red algae bloom - a red tide, but this one is not toxic. Still, there were very few birds, a sign that something isn't quite right.

How beautiful the leaves grow old

How full of light and colour are their last days.

J. Burroughs

Our Western Maple leaves turn yellow, not red as the Eastern Maples do. 

It was so lovely to just stand in the warmth of the sun and watch leaves fall. 

Our youngest daughter and her family came for dinner this evening. Apple Crisp was on the menu for dessert, always a favourite. We often get together with all of our children and grandchildren, but it's also nice to visit with individual families. They didn't stay long as the little girls needed to get to bed since tomorrow is a school day. Before they left they put on a little acrobatic show for us that they called Tricks and Talents. Very cute. 

Sunshine is in the forecast for the next week. We'll be sure to take advantage of it. 

A Walk in the Woods

 

I went for a walk with my youngest daughter, her two little ones, and their other grandmother on an overcast, but pleasant morning. Just steps from the road one plunges immediately into woods with tall cedar, golden maple, and fir trees. There is the feeling of otherworldliness here. 

Leaves tumble down in clusters, silently falling to the ground with little waves and twirls, dancing as they go. One can almost hear them whisper a faint 'goodbye' 'goodbye' as they pass. 

The falling leaves, the quiet, the muted light all combine to replace care with deep relief and contentment. The little girls chattered and the eldest one wanted to explore a different path, so we all took a little detour, but soon returned to the main trail. 

Old cement posts that once formed part of a busy work area now host purple martin houses. Bright autumn colours still dot the green coniferous forest, but not for long. 

This little one marches off on her own, back up the hill, turning to see if the rest of us are coming. 

Some days, a walk in the woods is just what is needed. The past couple of weeks have been busy for me as I'm teaching part time for a former colleague on medical leave. Two classes of Foods four days per week. I have a feeling that this will be my last short-term contract - I'm missing being at home, particularly now with Christmas approaching. Now, after Remembrance Day (November 11), preparations begin with joy. There will be some sewing, plenty of baking, and decorating, but I'm taking things slowly, focusing on enjoying doing a little bit at a time. 

Rainy Sunday at Tod Inlet

 

In the early darkness, the rain beats a soft steady rhythm that provides the perfect background to a quiet Sunday evening. A candle flickers on the coffee table. I am filled with an enormous sense of contentment.

It's been a weekend of celebration - one birthday party for a friend and another to celebrate our youngest daughter and a son-in-law. A get together with friends for lunch this afternoon.

Feeling the need for fresh air and a little exercise, we pulled on our rain jackets and walked the short trail to Tod Inlet, a favourite haunt in any season. 

Autumn colours are making their debut here, doubly beautiful when reflected in the dark water of the inlet. A few raindrops soon turned into steady rainfall. There were few people here today. The deep silence seeped into our souls, filling us with peace. 

Even the gulls were quiet, floating silently through the greyness to alight on a protruding rock and then stand still as water dripped over and around them. They looked as peaceful and contented as we felt.

We stood on the bank of the inlet, in the rain, and watched leaves fall slowly like pieces of gold into the dark water, each one trembling a little before letting go.

Neither of us was in any hurry to leave, but finally we turned back to the path and hiked through the silent sunless forest back to the car. Once home again, we shed our wet clothes and enjoyed a cup of tea together. 

A few more days of rain are in the forecast, and I am so thankful for a warm dry house. 

Is it rainy or dry in your corner? How was your weekend?

Two Views: Cultivated and Wild

 

Many people have heard of Butchart Gardens, created from the lands surrounding the home of Robert and Jenny Butchart. Robert manufactured cement and there were large deposits of limestone on the site. In 1909, after the quarry was exhausted, Jenny expanded her vision to add the Sunken Garden to the property. Millions of people from all over the world come to see the gardens and marvel at its beauty. 

One highlight is the dancing water fountain, seen above through the tulips. What most people don't realize is that on the other side of that deep pond lies another park - the Gowlland Tod Provincial Park. Both Butchart Gardens and this park lie along Tod Inlet. 

Tod Inlet is a popular place for boaters, dog-walkers, and people wanting an easy stroll close to nature. Here one can see the crumbling foundations of the industry that provided the funding for Butchart Gardens. Old cement pilings, dock ramps, hydro-dam remains, and the outlines of the homes of the workers who lived and laboured on the site. One crumbling chimney stack is visible, both from the gardens and the inlet.

Now the inlet is quiet. People throw sticks for their dogs to catch. Boaters lounge on the water. And all around are tall trees reflecting in the water and casting green light along the forested shore. Herons pick their way along the mud flat at the end of the inlet at low tide. Kingfishers call and dart from water to tree. Gulls soar, bank, and land on the water. There are a couple of spots in the park where one can catch glimpses of the dancing fountain, but it's a natural place once again.

On Saturday we met our children and grandchildren at the entrance to the park for a socially distanced, outdoor walk. It was lovely, but we were all chilled after a couple of hours. Above is the first photo of all of our grandchildren together. They had such fun together; exploring and playing.

The next day, Sunday, Tim and I visited Butchart Gardens. The tulips are astounding! Huge swaths of colour fill the beds. In a few places the tulips were finished, in others they were at their peak, and in others they had yet to fully open. I love the underplantings of the clouds of blue forget-me-nots, and in some places the interplanting of white narcissi. So very lovely. 

Butchart Gardens is a National Historic Site of Canada, and is still owned by descendants (a great granddaughter) of the Butcharts. We received a letter from her last week, with complimentary passes to the gardens, because we are year-long pass holders and the gardens were closed for part of the pandemic. Such a lovely gesture. We, and I hope, many others, will be renewing our passes so as to help this lovely place survive. 

Two views, two visits. I'm glad we can enjoy both the wild and the cultivated. 

Monday Musings: A Walk to Tod Inlet

 

I went on a lot of extra walks last week.  On Wednesday I got to carry little Cora in a wrap on my front while walking with her older sister Iris and my youngest daughter. Walking with a 20-month-old is a lesson in curiosity. Rocks, plants, and mud puddles are all fascinating and require serious study before moving on. Especially mud puddles! 

On Thursday afternoon I walked with my eldest daughter and her daughter. Lots of talk about books and reading ensued. 

On Friday I walked with a friend on the loop around the airport - 10 km. Lots of talk about life, make-up, retirement, travel, and more. 

On Thursday morning I started out on a walk with a friend, but she was called away shortly after we started, so I carried on alone. The path to Tod Inlet is an easy one and follows a creek that feeds into the inlet. At this time of year it's full of water rushing noisily downwards over boulders and fallen logs in a  hurry to get to the ocean. 

The forest is a million shades of green with moss of all kinds covering trees, rocks, and dirt with softness. 

Here Copper Wire Moss (pohlia nutans) grows like patchy hair on a bald rock. 

I was completely alone at the Inlet and utter peace enveloped me. I watched a gull duck and splash through its morning ablutions. Two white sailboats turned slowly on their anchorages. A black crow cawed overhead and two pairs of Common Mergansers drifted aimlessly about the inlet. 

This inlet, now so quiet, was once the site of immense industry as Portland Cement was manufactured on what are now the grounds of nearby Butchart Gardens. Docks and loading facilities here at the inlet were the means of transporting the cement to market. All that's left are a few crumbling building foundations, and these cement pilings.

I love the lines of these pilings and the way they have weathered over the years. I take photos of them almost every time I come to the Inlet. They are an intersection of nature and human industry, and a reminder of how quickly nature reasserts itself when left alone. 

On shore many of these old pilings, never used, rest in long rows, becoming more and more covered by moss each season. Children clamber over them and walk along their length. This tree began as a small shoot between two of the pilings and as it grew more insistent with age, began shifting the angle of the pilings. In the battle between static and dynamic, dynamic wins every time. 

Fluffy seed pods will soon be replaced by tiny bright green leaves as the seasons cycle again. The tides ebb and flood, winter ends and spring appears. Walking in the natural world is life-affirming and restorative. As the world heaves in turmoil, creation steadies me. Soon it will be time to plant seeds and garden, then water and weed and harvest, and so we come round again, in the grace of God. 

For this week, there are more walks planned, but also other things - baking and sewing. Reading, too, and I will soon share the books that have kept me company recently. Have a wonderful week. Stay warm and cozy as I see there are many places with frigid temperatures just now. May you see the beauty of each day. 

December Days

 

The days slip by one by one. Now, just eight days before Christmas, they slip faster and faster. Are you looking forward to celebrating this year? Will you be celebrating differently? 

This past weekend we went for a walk to Tod Inlet where steep forests line the shore. Each year someone hangs a few baubles on a tree - this year shiny red balls catch the rain and sparkle in the sun. I wonder who does this, and why? Does this place have a special meaning?

How green it is. When the water is still I admire the reflection of old concrete pilings covered with moss and now purposed as perches for birdhouses. It's a peaceful place.

Most Christmas activities are cancelled, but we discovered that downtown carriage rides are still going on. On Sunday evening we bundled up and rolled through the James Bay area behind Tucker, our horse. Our guide, Brianna, gave us tidbits of information about some of the heritage houses and buildings we passed. 

The Legislature building is beautifully lighted year-round, and more-so at Christmas. On top of the dome is a two-metre, gold-plated statue of Captain Vancouver, one of the earliest European explorers of this area, for whom the Island is named. 

Our ride left us a bit chilled and we were glad to come home, make hot chocolate and warm up by the fire. 

This is one of my favourite Christmas books - a tale of a small mouse who becomes (against the advice of his family), a church mouse, because he loved the music of the organ. When famine strikes the little mouse nibbles away on the leather bellows of the organ, with disastrous effect. No organ music for Christmas; instead, two men compose a song accompanied by guitar and Silent Night is the result. 

Miss A celebrated her 10th birthday this week. No parties, but her parents made it special. I dropped off an afternoon tea basket on Sunday and heard that it was most enjoyable. 

Rainy dark days are interspersed with some sunny moments and I captured the bright rays in the entrance hallway one day. The paperwhites are just beginning to bloom with a sweet fragrance. As the spaces on the Advent calendar fill, there is much baking, stitching, and preparation going on. 

We will be celebrating Christmas with just the two of us, but we're arranging present drop-offs, food exchanges, and video calls. How are you celebrating this special season? 

Autumn Magic

 

I had such a lovely weekend. No alarm clock, just time to lie quietly and wake up slowly. Leisurely meals. Clear skies. I spent some time in the garden, clipping flowers and gathering tomatoes, beans, zucchini, berries, and squash. The zinnias are magnificent, as are the few dahlias I planted. Rich shades of pink, magenta, fuschia, crimson, orange, gold, and fire-engine red. Rich shades that I plunked into vases and placed around the house. 

The grapes are ripening nicely and I have a recipe for roasted grapes with balsamic vinegar that I want to try soon. How beautifully the clusters hang from the vines, half hidden by leaves moved aside for photos. 

On Sunday afternoon we walked at Tod Inlet. The sun's warmth was just perfect and the light shimmered on the water and shot the changing leaves with gold. A long skein of Canada Geese trailed across the sky in a ragged V formation. 

Arbutus trees shed their bark in curls of papery red to reveal smooth, pale green trunks. 

After descending these stairs I turned around for a photo and it was only then that I noticed the tree curving in an arch over the path. It seemed to me almost Narnian - one of the dryad trees, perhaps, leaning to protect something unseen. 

We wandered off the main path - to look at the stream, virtually dry just now - to explore a new view - and we dawdled in the loveliness, a bit unwilling to leave. 

Home, finally, to bake a Peach Custard Tart. It was so good. Some family joined us for a light supper and we devoured most of the tart. The peaches have been spectacular this year, full of summer sweetness. I adapted a number of recipes for this tart and I'll try to write down what I did so that I can post it on my recipe blog to replicate another time. 

And now Monday is gone - a busy but satisfying day at school. I'll close with a line from Emily of New Moon, a Lucy Maud Montgomery character who is not as well-known as Anne of Green Gables, but equally lovely and incorrigible. 

"Good-bye, and may you always see a happy face in your looking glass." 

Happy days to you all. 

Taking Advantage of Weather Breaks

"In every walk with nature one received far more than he seeks." John Muir

Before the light faded (does it seem like it's a wee bit lighter later to you?) we set out for a tramp around the Bog. When entering the path, there's a choice to make, left or right. We usually choose left so that we can dawdle towards the end of walk and watch the ducks. Our choice of left didn't take us very far. Above is the path flooded by all the heavy rain we've been having. So we turned around the other way, walked to about the mid point of the trail and back again, allowing us two chances to observe the bird life on the open water.

It was a busy place, with mallards, American wigeons, Canada geese, and a coot or two. The sky was grey and overcast, but the rain held off until later in the evening. 

Rain and wind in the night were followed by hail in the morning, and very overcast skies on our drive to church. What a lovely surprise to see blue skies and bright sunshine when we came out. One little boy, about 2, said, "I should have worn my sunglasses." 

We decided to take advantage of the break in the weather and quickly changed and drove to Tod Inlet.

 Although the woods obscure most of the light, when the sun filtered through it rendered the forest a most magical place, full of sparkle and amazing detail, like the moss above. 

The creek feeding the inlet rushes along these days, collecting all sorts of muddy debris which it deposits into the inlet, turning the water distinctly green. 

Someone decorates a tree there every Christmas, and a few ornaments remained, along with strings of delectable seeds and pods for the birds to nibble on. 

"Beauty surrounds us" says Rumi, who continues on to say, "but usually we need to be walking in a garden to know it." Or perhaps the woods. 

After our walk, we went to the Seahorse Cafe on the water for lunch. I enjoyed a salad and warming French Onion Soup. Tim had a small bowl of Coconut Chicken Curry soup and a Mediterranean Chicken Wrap. Yum. 

As we sat in the bright light next to the window, we watched the clouds gather on the mountains, then drift downwards to the water and move across the inlet to drop fat raindrops and obscure the landscape. How pretty the boats, canoes, and other brightly painted bits and pieces looked in both sunshine and shadow.


Linking to Mosaic Monday, hosted by Angie of Letting Go of the Bay Leaf. 

Rambling Thoughts on the Second Day after Christmas

A thin layer of ice lies along the far shore of Tod Inlet. Dull skies cast a monotone light over everything. Bits of snow remain in the woods and the path is icy with compact snow. Our boots crunch.

Early morning on Boxing Day (December 26). I awake around 8 am and my mind feels curiously blank. No mental list of tasks to accomplish. Nothing on the schedule. My head feels physically lighter, somehow, as if there is room inside my skull, and my brain can rattle around freely. 

The woods are infinite shades of green and brown. Tangles of moss creep along branches.

No lessons to plan. No student management issues to think about. No marking to do. (I worked very hard the last week before Christmas to get all the papers marked and back to students.)

Abandoned dock pilings, each with their scarf of emerald and cap of white, stand stoic in the cold. A family of placid ducks swims in and around the pilings. 

No meals to plan - there are plenty of leftovers in the fridge. In the morning I drank my tea and visited with our daughter and son-in-law (who foraged for their own breakfasts). I did make my bed. 

In a clearing, one small tree holds a few ornaments, placed there by an unnamed someone who likes to delight the passersby. A silver angel blows his horn announcing the good news of Christmas to all. 

We dropped off our daughter and son-in-law at his parents' place around noon, then stopped for a walk along Tod Inlet. 

The woods are quiet. Not silent. Quiet with soft plops of snow, delicate rustles of birds, and one loud crack of twigs that startle me.

I realize that it's been too long since I didn't have something demanding my attention. One of my classes has been extremely challenging to teach this semester. I look forward to the switch over, and new classes at the end of January. 

My camera doesn't want to focus on this single rose hip. Tim puts his gloved hand behind it, focus happens, he moves his hand and I snap the photo. Teamwork. 

We return home and I continue to do nothing. I read a little, write a blog post, drink tea, nibble on cookies. Not much conversation.

Moss against snow. How lovely it all is growing greenly. The world is awash with beauty. 

Today is Wednesday. Tim is back at work. There's still nothing in my brain. It feels delightful. I have a hankering for beef stew, so I'll go for a walk to the grocery store. There's a library book to return, too. That will make the walk a little longer. That's okay. I have time.