On a Tuesday in February

 

Tuesday are when granddaughter Cora comes over. We spend the morning together, then I take her to afternoon pre-school. Today we baked gingersnaps together and then enjoyed them with a cup of tea. When I said I only wanted one cookie and she could have two, she asked for a cookie bag which she tucked into her back pack to give to her sister after school. Such a generous heart for a four-year-old. 

There are so many wonderful children's books to read, and libraries are wonderful resources. We had fun reading these tales of a beautiful French snail. 

"It has been a long winter, and Escargot is suffering from 'ennui,' which is the feeling you have when you are bored with everything."

So we talk about ennui and she decides that she is not experiencing it. 

After a night where wind howled around the corners of the house and rain gushed down, there was sunshine this afternoon. The pot on my porch is sheltered from the weather and here Tête-à-tête daffodils have burst into bloom, shining golden in the sun. 

Two small pots of Siberian Irises have suddenly bloomed, as well. The parade of blossoms is beginning. 

I have been feeling a bit of ennui myself lately, unable to settle to much. Sunshine and tea with little girls are great tonics. Tomorrow is a home day and I am looking forward to tidying my sewing room which has become a bit of a catchall for odd bits and pieces. I try to remember to "don't put things down, put them away," good advice that I don't always follow. 

Spring Prelude

 

Fine rain fell as I walked through Butchart Gardens with a friend this morning. Signs of spring are popping out everywhere. Witch Hazel has such unique flowers, like wild morning hair sticking out in every direction. 

In one of the restaurant venues, before the hordes of tourists arrive in late spring and summer, there is more than a hint of spring. Walking in the door we are greeted with warm air scented with the freshness of spring. Here are azaleas in bloom.

A bright Tulip Magnolia bursts with colour, adding cheer to a dull day. Mixed among the spring bulbs and flowering trees are paths with tropical plants - orchids, anthuriums, and even a tiny pineapple.

Throughout the indoor garden there is the sound of water - small waterfalls pour into ponds dotted with koi, large pots burble with water that fills then slides down the outside - a lovely backdrop. 

I recently found an slim, hardcover Mary Stewart book in a used bookstore. Going through the front pages I recognized several titles in the list of books authored by Stewart, but I couldn't tell you the plots of the stories, for I read them many years ago, probably as a teenager. Then I was all about the action and the romance. I brought The Stormy Petrel home and have just finished it. What a lovely story set on an island off the west coast of Scotland. The descriptions of scenery and bird life are exquisite, and there is just enough action to keep the story moving. I closed the book with a deep sigh of satisfaction. 

Here is one quotation I'll leave with you - "...the sound of birds and sea adds up to silence as beautifully as we ever know it in the noisy world of today..." 

In all the turmoil and noise of today's world, taking time to be silent and listen to nature, or to the quiet of home can still and calm us and help us focus on living and doing our everyday tasks knowing that of these moments our lives are composed. 

Beautiful Little Things

 

The snow has melted and snowdrops are once again visible. They fared well under their white blanket for a couple of weeks. 

I'm finding it important to focus on beautiful little things these days. My daughter found the blue and white jug in a store and thought of me. How sweet. 

Hellebores are apparently tougher than they look for they, too, perked up once the snow was gone. I saw a tip to make thin slices in the stems before arranging them in a vase. It does seem to make the blooms last longer in the house. 

The intricate heart of a Hellebore. So much to admire. 

Today four-year-old Cora came for the morning. We made pizza buns together. I gave her the pizza dough I'd made earlier along with the rolling pin. She rolled the dough like a pro, lifting it from time to time and turning it. I was astounded. Her mother must have taught her to do this. 

I let tulips hang around far past their prime. It is fascinating to see them curl and twist, shape-changing into aged beauties. 

In the watercolour book I mentioned in my last post, the author had painted an Icelandic turf house. I took her idea and adapted it to paint from a photo I'd taken of one of the turf houses I saw. 

This painting is from a Youtube tutorial of Harriet de Winton. It reminded me of our recent visit to Puerto Vallarta where clay pots and geraniums are frequently seen. 

A little bit of painting is a good way to relax before going to bed. Painting or reading or some sort of handwork. What do you like to do to relax in the evening?

A Ferry Ride

 

There is no bridge between Vancouver Island and the rest of Canada. Instead, we rely on BC Ferries. A fleet of variously sized boats, ply the coastal waters, connecting islands big and small. 

There are those who long for a land link and find the 90-minute crossing tiresome. Not me.

I enjoy traveling on the ferry. There is nothing I have to do: it's a time to read a book, eat a relaxing meal, sip tea, or admire the passing scenery. 

Hundreds of islands and islets of all sizes dot the Salish Sea. Collectively known as the Gulf Islands, some are inhabited and others are parks. Here a bit of lingering snow lies on the shaded slope.

Standing on the back of the ferry the sharp wind whipped my hair (and the flag) and chilled me to the bone. I didn't stay on deck long, but wanted to enjoy the crisp (very) air and gorgeous sunshine for a few minutes. 

Tomorrow, February 15, marks 60 years since we adopted our beautiful red and white maple leaf flag. Prior to 1965 Canada flew the Union Jack, the national flag of the UK. I love my country and think our flag a beautiful sight. 

We wind our way through the islands, passing Portland Island where we take our own boat and go hiking. Salt Spring and Prevost Island lie to port and Pender to starboard. We round the corner into Active Pass, so named for the USCS Active, which was, in 1855, the first steamer to navigate the passage separating Galiano and Mayne Islands. 

Houses of all sizes dot the shoreline, all having one thing in common - a deck or patio overlooking the water. Who wouldn't want to have views like this? Today, on our return home on the ferry, a large flock of Common Terns floated on the water, lifting off in a cloud of white when the ship's horn blew a long blast to warn of its entrance into Active Pass. 

We visited my parents who live on the mainland, about 1 1/2 hours from the ferry. After leaving the ferry terminal on Vancouver Island, our drive home is only about 20 minutes. 

(edited to add: We spent two nights at my parents' place. Although we have done the round trip in a day, it's a long one.)

It was a slow afternoon. Unpacking, a bit of grocery shopping, some desultory cleaning, and reading that led to heavy eyes and a short nap. While I was out I dropped off some simple Valentines for our grandchildren. For the two of us we will likely do something tomorrow to celebrate Valentine's Day. 

Gifts of the Season

 

February has never been a favourite month. Growing up in more northerly climes, it seemed that winter had made herself too comfortable and I wondered if she would ever leave. We've had a wintery blast here lately with temperatures around -1 degree, just enough to keep the snow from melting. 

Last week when the snow was fresh, I visited Butchart Gardens, known for its wonderful array of flowers during the spring and summer. Shades of black, white, and dark green allowed the architecture of the garden to stand out. And how beautiful is the red of the little bridge in the Japanese Garden.

Each day is precious, even those of February, and I don't want to wish them away as I long for the sun's warmth and new shoots springing from the soil. Rather than merely enduring these days, I'm focusing on embracing what this season has to offer. Simple, everyday things. 

A kale salad might not seem very appealing, but I learned from somewhere that the trick is in massaging the cut kale with olive oil and a bit of salt. Working the kale with my hands before adding apple and radish slices makes the kale softer and not so chewy. Since the oil is already on the greens, I add a bit of white wine vinegar and toss everything together. A sprinkle of candied pecans or other nuts on top. A good winter salad. Grated carrot would be good in place or in addition to the radishes. 

On Mary's IG page she posted a parsnip and apple soup that sounded intriguing. It's hearty, faintly sweet, and with some sourdough bread is a lovely meal for a chilly day. 

I've been playing with watercolours again. It's so much better to paint in the evenings than to watch or read the news. I saw the book above on Catherine's blog and ordered for myself. It's in French and easy to read, with some great ideas. I'll share some of my little paintings in another post. 

On our trip across Canada in 2023, we stopped in Knowlton, Quebec, home of author Louise Penny and of Brome Lake Books. I bought the journal above there and when I open it to write, I remember that very rainy September day wandering around Knowlton, eating a cozy lunch in the bistro, and browsing in the bookstore. 

So there you have it - just a few very ordinary things that I'm delighting in lately. 

Bird Life in Mexico

 

On this quiet Saturday I thought I'd take a look at some of the photos of birds from Mexico. I've been trying to identify them using Mexican Birds, with a fair bit of success, I think. As always, I am always open to correction on identification. 

The Little Green Heron, above, didn't seem at all concerned about me on the river bank above him. His colouring is so rich.

There were so many beautiful birds. We walked along the river in Puerto Vallarta and saw them flitting about, perched on trees or on rocks in the water. This might be a Great Kiskadee, although I'm not certain. Looks like he's wearing a flat black cap on his head. 

One day we took a water taxi to a fishing village. Brown Pelicans often glide over the water just off the beaches, graceful despite their gangly appearance. One day we took a water taxi to a fishing village and this one posed admirably as we floated by. 

I think this is a Tropical Kingbird perched on a power line in the fishing village of Quimixto. We enjoyed a hike to a waterfall there, and a delicious lunch of fish tacos on a white sand beach with the waves splashing on the shore. 

On our walk to the waterfall we saw several Chacalaca Birds (so much fun to say). In one spot there were about six Chacalacas racing around the woods chasing each other in a circle of about 20 feet. Round and round they went. Our guide had never seen that behaviour before. They are said to be very loud birds, but we didn't hear them beyond the racket they made running around.

In the river estuary near where we ate lunch Great Egrets and Snowy Egrets waded together, both elegant and deliberate in their movements.

On another day we visited the Botanical Gardens where trails wind through forested wildlands, down to the river, and up again. More groomed gardens surround the restaurant and nursery where one can purchase plants. The orchids were amazing, and I'll share those another time. 

Across the river, we watched a variety of birds flitting between shadow and light. The Squirrel Cuckoo above is well camouflaged. When he flies his long tail streams out in a fan behind. A beautiful sight. 

On one of our first walks along the river, I spied this bright orange bird, a Hooded Oriole, I think. I tried to photograph it with my small camera while Tim watched through his binoculars. It wasn't until today, while looking at the photos, that we noticed the looming iguana above the bird. We didn't even see him while we were focused on the Oriole. The bird didn't seem too concerned either. 

One day while walking along the river path we heard a branch crack from a tree just ahead of us. It fell with a thud to the ground. When we got closer we saw just a bit of leafy branch and a big iguana. It had fallen out of the tree. Temperatures were a bit cooler than normal, and apparently iguanas become lethargic and unbalanced when cold and literally fall out of trees. No harm was done and when we passed by later the iguana had moved on. 

It's evening now and time to read a book or watch a British mystery. The little girls are spending the night and have been tucked in after their baths. I'm glad to put my feet up. 

Snow Day!

 

Snow days are few around here. I hope for snow every winter as I love the way it transforms the landscape, softening the lines of buildings and trees. It adds light to the day and I can often tell if snow fell during the night by the faint light filtering into the bedroom. 

Although I am no longer teaching, there was a frisson of excitement at the thought of school closures. Those days always seemed like gifts - a day free of duty to do what I liked. 

The Varied Thrush is an elusive bird and I see them only when it snows. Its normal habitat is the dark evergreen forests. This one hung around for a short while, long enough for us all to admire his orange and black colouring. 

Dark-eyed Juncos are regular visitors to the garden, so handsome with their sharply defined black heads. They are common most of the year here, but tend to go further north in the summer. 

Spotted Towhees usually feed on the ground, but like the suet, especially now when the ground is covered with snow. All morning, while the snowflakes swirled around, birds took their turns at the feeders. 

We collected the little girls this morning as their mother needed to study. They played in the snow, making angels, climbing the pile of snow shoveled to the side of the drive, and slid down the small slope in our garden. What fun!

Several Chestnut-backed Chickadees stopped by. I watched three of them for a long while, chasing each other through the bare lilac branches, swooping across the snow-covered lawn, and chirping among themselves. It looked as though they too were playing in the snow. 

Tall hats on dried flower stems. Colder weather is here for a few more days and the snow will stay, then quickly melt away. 

A snow day literally and figuratively falls from the sky, 

unbidden, and seems like a thing of wonder."

Susan Orlean