Spectacle Lake Musings

 

Lady Grantham said in Downton Abbey, "What is a weekend?" Although both of us are retired, we still try to make weekends different than the other five days of the week. We tend to get together with friends for dinner, have family get togethers, attend church, and I like to take a break from housekeeping duties on Sundays. 

This time of the year usually has significant rainfall. In a wonderful bit of serendipity, Sundays have been very sunny. We've hiked for the past three weeks, choosing a different destination each time. This week was another new place - Spectacle Lake. 

The trail goes all around the lake, just 2.8 km, but the bridge at the end of the lake was closed due to construction. So we walked to the bridge and back to the parking lot on one side, then to the bridge and back on the other side. It was such a lovely day in the forest with the sound of water trickling everywhere in small streams and rivulets. 

Not too far off the path a vernal pool lay still in a clearing with sunlight filtering through the trees. These pools dry up quickly in late spring and summer, but they are important for the life of the forest. Frogs love them. They can lay their eggs there without being concerned that the tadpoles will be eaten by fish. By the time the pools dry up, the frogs are hatched and can make their way to wherever they want to go. 

Another interesting thing was the design on this fallen log. It's natural, created by branches that have died off and the tree trunk continuing to grow around them. 

Spectacle Lake was the site of a sawmill in the 1920s and 30s, and much of the lake bottom is sawdust. There is now a swimming beach just below the sawmill site, and the base of it is sawdust, too, with sand brought in from somewhere else. 

Spring light is beautiful seen through moss-covered branches. 

I've been starting the Spring clean up in the garden with pruning the roses and hydrangeas. A few seeds have been started, some in the unheated greenhouse and some in the house. I had hoped to work outside this morning, but rain is dripping steadily down. So perhaps I'll sort out my sewing room which is quite untidy!

Friday Favourites: On the Season's Edge

 

A mostly bright day with billows of white clouds sailing fast across the sky, pushed by gusty winds. How I love the light! I definitely feel more energetic when the sun shines. Spring is just around the corner, although March is a tricky month. Blossoms are peeking out here and there. Such a welcome sight. 

I have decided that I love all the seasons. Each is full of delight. When the seasons draw to an end, I find myself looking ahead to the next, be it winter, autumn, spring, or summer. Just now we're at the edge of winter. I continue to enjoy the pleasures of cool days indoors, but the garden is beginning to beckon. I've planted sweet peas in my unheated greenhouse and they are about 2 inches tall. Soon I'll pinch them for hardier plants. Indoors, I've begun onions and nasturtiums and they are doing well. I may have planted the latter a bit too earlier will have to baby them along for a bit before planting them out. 

The tulips purchased from the store have had their day, but I am reluctant to toss them just yet. Their papery petals twist and dry in such interesting shapes.

Clumps of tete-a-tete daffodils dot my garden beds and I see them often when I walk, as well. The taller daffs are not far behind, and a few garden hyacinths are showing colour. 

Last year's apple harvest was abundant and I have jars of applesauce to use up. I hunted through my recipe books and found a cookie recipe that used applesauce. It's a cakey cookie, not my favourite, but these are quite tasty with the browned butter icing. And since Tim eats most of the baking and enjoys cakey cookies, this is a win-win situation. I'll post the recipe on my other blog tomorrow. 

As February teeters into March, on the very edge of winter, it's easy to want to lean right in to warmer days. As contemporary poet Stewart Stafford writes

Light a fire in flinty February,

As the evening time comes down,

Welcome all the family home

With shopping bought from town.

Hear the logs crackle and roll,

And the sparks pop and hiss,

A storm roars down the chimney,

To deliver its tempestuous kiss.

And with that I'll close off this Friday post, wishing you all a lovely weekend.

~

Views from City and Forest

 

Victoria is a relatively small city, larger if the surrounding municipalities are counted in. We rarely go downtown as we can find what we need elsewhere without the hassle of expensive parking. Once in awhile there is a special event that we like to attend. Recently, the city hosted "Victoria at Dusk," intended for families to wander through lighted displays, listen to live music, and enjoy the camaraderie. I noticed several people stopping to take a photo of the above scene, so I took one, too. It's looking down Government Street across the cloud-banked Strait of Juan de Fuca to the Olympic Mountains in the USA against a sunset sky. 

This past Sunday afternoon we took a 4 kilometre hike around a local lake, about 90 minutes in total. Lots of clouds and patches of sunshine. At the far end of the lake, where the water flows out into a small stream, a beaver had built a small dam. The dam was in poor repair and the beaver house we saw a short ways away didn't look very fresh. Perhaps the family moved on to a better lake. After I took the photo of mossy logs in the water, I realized it rather looks like an optical illusion of trees floating in the clouds. 

Soft light shimmered across the water, reflecting the various colours of trees on the far shore. A sculptural weed was my intended focus, but I rather like the blended colours in the water. 

Patches of Reindeer Lichen grow on the many mossy rocks along the trail. I think they look like frosty miniature forests. We're certainly not seeing much of real frost this winter. I think our chance of snow has passed. It's been an exceptionally mild season. 

One side of the lake trail was quite level as you can see above. The other side, once we crossed the little bridge over the beaver dam, climbed steeply for a bit, and was wetter and muddier. Much of our forest growth is evergreen, but I noticed a few leaf buds emerging from some of the deciduous bushes. 

While walking around our neighbourhood this afternoon I noticed clumps of daffodils opening, a few prunus trees beginning to bloom, and lots of birds. A cloud of Starlings landed on the garden and I watched them pecking at the grass for who knows what. Fat American Robins are showing up in small flocks to do the same thing, and Bushtits flit from tree to tree. It's lovely to see and hear the birds at this time of year. 

Here at home I've fed up my sourdough starter to make bread tomorrow, and also broth from the roast chicken we enjoyed for dinner this evening. Lots of house puttering to look forward to. 

Friday Thoughts on Home

 

Today (Thursday) has been lovely and bright, but colder than normal. We west-coasters are not used to freezing temperatures, but feel a bit silly complaining about them when other parts of the world are in deep winter with oodles of snow and frigid cold. 

A bouquet of tulips and hyacinths jumped into my cart at the grocery store and the sweet fragrance of hyacinths wafts in the air when I pass the bouquet sitting on the hall table. They came attached to partial roots with instructions to not cut the stems, but they look rather floppy in the vase and I think I'll cut them down tomorrow. 

The cold has not stopped the camellia bush from flowering. There are many many buds just waiting to open and I look forward to enjoying the flowers for several weeks. 

I've been thinking about how much I love my home. With the brighter days, I have felt the need to do some deeper cleaning. Yesterday I washed baseboards and the floors, and tidied a cupboard or two. I look around now and feel great satisfaction in the work that I've done. Perhaps no one but me will notice, but I feel as though the house thanks me for caring for it by looking particularly well. 

I do love reading about other people's homes in books - the estate house in Winter Solstice by Rosamunde Pilcher is a favourite, along with those in her other novels The Shell Seekers and Coming Home. The coziness of the opening scene in Louisa May Alcott's Little Women is appealing in its simplicity - 

It was a comfortable old room, though the carpet was faded and the 

furniture very plain; for a good picture or two hung on the walls,

books filled the recesses, chrysanthemums and Christmas roses

bloomed in the windows, and a pleasant atmosphere of

home-peace pervaded it. 

I am currently seated in my chair under a pool of lamplight. A vase of Lenten Roses aka Hellebores, smaller than the one shown above, is on the table in front of me. A fire glows in the fireplace, providing warmth and colour. I can see the dining room in shadow where Tim's grandmother's lace cloth graces the table and a pot of bright red amaryllis shows off its second bloom. I am content.

From my kitchen window I see the Hellebores blooming in the garden, so hardy in the cold. There are many stems of flowers and I cut a vase full for the kitchen. This is a luxury, I think, being able to cut flowers from my own garden. 

My greenhouse is unheated, but I've started sweet peas there and they are growing well. Despite the freezing cold at night, during the day the temperature inside the greenhouse is 20 degrees Celsius with the sun's heat. 

I made some Orange Pistachio Oat squares today from a recipe from Victoria magazine, using pecans in place of pistachios as that's what I had on hand. They are not too sweet and healthy with oats, nuts, coconut, honey, olive oil, and orange zest. A nice thing to nibble on while drinking a cup of afternoon tea. I've just begun the book and so far the story is intriguing. 

Work on my own book continues. The line edit has begun and I'm working on a cover design. Then comes layout and printing. Such a long process. 

On Instagram I follow the Van Gogh Museum account where they feature paintings, small stories, and quotations. I quite liked the one below and will leave it with you as I close this post. May your weekend be filled with love and beautiful moments. 

It is good to love as much as one can,

for therein lies true strength,

and he who loves much does much and is capable of much,

and that which is done with love is well done.

Vincent Van Gogh

Out and About

 

On Friday the little girls had a day off school and I, along with their other grandmother, took them to Butchart Gardens. They have been there so often that they know their way around quite well. Their father grew up on the grounds of the gardens as his father worked there. It's fun to listen to stories from the past.

Beds are planted with lots of things that will bloom soon, but for now it's the structure of the gardens that I admire. And the emerging blooms on the prunus trees. The day was cloudy and the light dull, so the photos are not great. 

The Witch Hazel tree is in bloom and has such a lovely scent to go along with those frilly flowers. 

During February and March one of the restaurant venues at the Gardens is converted into a Spring Prelude - an indoor garden filled with tropical plants as well as spring bulbs and blooming shrubs. I enjoyed the colourful displays. What amazing orchids!

It's early days yet for this indoor garden, but primulas were blooming along with daffodils and a few rhododendrons. 

On Saturday, Valentine's Day, Tim and I decided to go for a hike on the west coast of our island. Mystic Beach is two kilometres from the parking lot, and can be a wee bit challenging in spots. Masses of tree roots line the forest floor. It was so fresh and lovely in the forest with rich scents of humus and mud. Lots of mud. 

We knew the tide was high and we wouldn't be able to walk to the waterfall that spills over the cliff into the ocean below. I dodged a few waves to get close enough to take this photo. Such a magnificent sight accompanied by the ocean's loud roar as waves rolled up and down the sand. The light was silvery and colours washed out by the sun, resulting in a photo that looks almost black and white. 

Sun, clouds, and waves. We ate our picnic lunch perched on a fat driftwood log while watching the foaming waves advance and retreat. A perfect spot. But the time came for us to return and so we turned our back on the water and headed back into the forest. 

This is a fallen tree we had to pass under. As we did I looked up and noticed the tiny fungi growing towards the sun. I turned back and held my camera as high as I could to take the photo. 

The two of us were very likely the eldest people on the trail that day. I am so glad that we are both healthy and strong. I know that could change quickly, but for now, we will do the things we can. Being outside in such beautiful places fills me with energy and delight. 

Friday Thoughts

 

The power of finding beauty in the humblest things

makes home happy and life lovely

Louisa May Alcott

In gardens now clumps of purple and yellow crocuses add colour to mostly cloudy days with drizzle. The flowers look even better when the sun peeks out and the blooms open to the light. Spring seems to be well on her way here despite remembering several snowstorms in late February. All of the gardeners are itching to plant cold weather crops, but the wise ones advise everyone to hold off for a bit. I do have sweet peas growing in my greenhouse and they are quite hardy. Nothing else yet. 

When I mentioned the Black Forest Cake I was planning to make for last Sunday's celebratory dinner, someone asked if I would post a photo. Here it is. Normally, I grate the chocolate and press it into the sides, but thought covering the sides with shards might make an interesting change. Inside is a light and airy pale chocolate cake. I used farm fresh eggs that were quite large. Whipped cream and cherries filled and covered the cake. Most of it disappeared that day. 

"Nobody has ever measured, even the poets,

how much a heart can hold."

Zelda Fitzgerald

And here is the birthday boy with his cake. How grown up he looks. I am so thankful for him and for the four granddaughters we have. And I am filled with gratitude that we can celebrate together and enjoy each other's company. 

"The more I think about it, the more I realize there is 

nothing more artistic than to love others."

Vincent Van Gogh

One morning Tim and I got up early to watch the sun rise over the water. Red-winged Blackbirds, Song Sparrows, and Golden-Crowned Sparrows sang in the scrub brush. Ducks floated on the water, perhaps also watching for the sunrise. Gulls swirled above, dark silhouettes against the sky. 

Our province and our country is reeling from the news of a school shooting on Tuesday. Such events are thankfully rare in Canada, and horrific. I think of the school children, ages 11-13 who lost their lives that day. Two more are in hospital, one fighting desperately for her life. These are the ages of my grandchildren. How quickly life is taken and how irrevocably the lives of those who remain are changed. Lord, have mercy. 

This week I stitched a few zipper bags for the granddaughters and an international student staying with one family. Our grandson gets the red bag. Each holds a few chocolates and candies and a gift card for Tim Hortons. I have a large box of zippers and would like to use them, so each bag is a slightly different size to fit the zippers. It's good to use up small pieces of fabric, too. The younger girls were here today as it was a Pro-D day for them. They took the bags with smiles, but said they wanted to wait to open them until tomorrow because that was actually Valentine's Day! 

Tim is starting a new hobby - using a wood lathe. These are some of his practice bowls. He assures me there will be many more. He's experimenting with various woods, finishes, and shapes. The irregular dark-rimmed bowl on the right is made with a live edge using the bark of the tree as the edge. 

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Hug those you love, every day you can. 

Friday Favourites: Recombobulation

 

The rain last Sunday morning fell in rivulets from the sky, drenching the world in dark wetness. Feeling a bit cabin feverish, Tim suggested going for a drive late morning, and lunch. I suggested taking along our rain gear and hiking shoes, just in case we wanted to get a little exercise despite the torrential downpour. 

We drove to Sooke, a small town less than an hour away, towards the west. Water pooled on the highway and traffic moved slower than normal. At lunch, overlooking the water we each enjoyed a generous bowl of soup, a salad, and a scone. As we ate, the rain slowed and the skies cleared to a beautiful day. 

We hiked to Iron Man Bay and Pike Point along the Strait of Juan de Fuca. It was beautiful, with a real warmth to the sun. Sunlight filtering through the cedar trees brightened the dark forest with golden light. Rather than a quick walk in the rain, we enjoyed wide views of ocean, forest, and sky. How glad we were to have brought our gear along!

I have used the word discombobulated on occasion to express feelings of being confused or disoriented about something. This week I ran across the word recombobulated, which is the exact opposite, meaning to "cause to think clearly again." Certainly there is much in the world to perplex us and cause unsettled feelings. But there is much to delight and calm us, as well. I think of the words of St. Paul urging us to think on things that are true and right and lovely. 

So here are a few things that I've found good for recombobulating myself this week.

Hellebores in the garden

Soft moss growing on rocks and trees

Sunsets streaked with gold

Good books to read (currently The Man on the Endless Stair by Chris Barkley)

The bright waning moon

Peony buds emerging from the dark soil (moss here, too)

Pointed blades of crocus, daffodils, and hyacinths jutting up into the light

Friendly chats with cashiers, one of whom was a former student working her way through college, hoping to enter medical school

Dark chocolate (78%) Just a square after dinner is so satisfying

Libraries with a plethora of books

Really, when I notice the little things in life, I am delighted and definitely "recombobulated." As I finish up this post for the week, the house is quiet. Friends visited earlier, and the memories of the laughter and conversation shared linger in the room. A vase of those beautiful hellebores graces the table. A basket of books sits under the table next to my chair. I am content. 

One last thing. For Christmas I received a heavy squarish cube in a box. It was for growing mushrooms. I didn't begin the process until a few weeks after we returned from Mexico. Following the instructions was simple - a spray of water twice a day and some patience required. The first tiny pins showed up after 15 days, and have grown into this wonderfully sculptural clump of Snow Oyster Mushrooms. I'll cut them in a day or two, then begin the process again for hopefully another harvest. It's been fun to watch them grow.

I'm thinking of sauteeing them in butter with garlic and serving them on toast. Doesn't that sound appetizing? 

I'm looking forward to a walk with a friend followed by coffee on Friday, and a family dinner on Sunday. It's birthday time for a 12 year-old-grandson and he's asked for a Black Forest Cake, so I'll make one of those on Saturday. 

Wishing you a weekend of small delights.