Friday Favourites: The Scents of Summer

 

Early afternoon. Blue sky with wispy clouds. Trees wave in the slight breeze. I sit on our newly expanded deck admiring the garden. Pots of Petunias, Osteospermum, and Sweet Alyssum brighten the corners. A bee dances around the pink and white cosmos flowers. I planted those and am always amazed at the potential life and beauty contained in it, and in any of the miniscule little seeds I grow. Miraculous.

The Secret Rose (rosa hilaroma) is one I bought the first year we moved to this house in 2002. It's been moved several times and continues to produce highly fragrant well-formed blooms throughout the summer. 

While walking around my garden in the mornings or evenings, I pinch a leaf or two from various herbs, crush them, and bring them to my nose. Ahhh. Rosemary is one herb whose scent and flavour I adore. Mint and Lemon Verbena are others, along with sage, thyme, and oregano. I've dried two large mason jars of oregano for winter use, and smaller amounts of thyme and sage. 

Lavender grows so well here. I confess to being lax about clipping it into shape and have a few scraggly bushes that desperately need attention. The bees love lavender and buzz around the slender stalks in great contentment. 

Falstaff is a David Austen rose that is on my wait and see list. The bush seems a bit frail and doesn't produce very many blooms. I'm letting it go for this summer and will decide its fate in autumn. Its blooms, the few it does produce, are dark and intricate, and may be designed to make me change my mind. 

Sweet peas planted in the greenhouse looked so thin and wispy that I wondered if anything would come of them. (Oh, ye of little faith) I'm clipping stem after stem of them, mostly dark pinks and purples, with white and a few pale pinks. I bury my face in the bouquet, inhaling the sweetness and enjoying the feel of velvet petals against my skin. One of the best things about sweet peas is that they positively must be picked in order to keep blooming. Otherwise they set seed for survival. So I clip with abandon, knowing that in a few days there will be more.

Early in the morning, before the heat of the day, I baked Blueberry Crumb Bars, found at Smitten Kitchen. Last week when I baked them I used all blueberries. Today I mixed the fruit, 2/3 blueberries and 1/3 raspberries. Tim said the raspberry addition added a bit of pizzazz to the deliciousness. Frozen berries can also be used, so I'll keep this in mind for winter. The scent of it baking filled the kitchen. Mmm good. 

This post has taken a long time to write for I pause frequently to breathe in the summer air, feel the breeze, and just be in this moment. The little garden bell brought from Japan by our daughter tinkles. I am utterly content.

Summer afternoon - summer afternoon;

to me those have always been the most beautiful

words in the English language.

Henry James

Ordinary Days

 

After a month of travel, short trips, then home for a couple of days to do laundry and yard care before setting out again, it's good to be settled at home. I read recently that satisfaction is found most in the small details of life: a walk along the beach or in the forest, a cup of morning tea savoured on the patio, or holding hands with a loved one. I do enjoy travel, but I'm just as happy at home.

Catching up on the garden and life has diminished my online presence. That's not a bad thing, but I have missed blogging and catching up with you on your own blogs. My days have been full - family visits, dinner with friends, and of course, gardening. I find that if I go out to do just a few things, I am reluctant to go back indoors. It's best to get the indoors done first, quickly, then enjoy clipping, weeding, and digging to my heart's content. 

How lovely the hydrangeas are just now. We have several kinds. These lace caps caught my attention with their creamy centers and dark prominent flowers. 

Through my open window I can hear the sound of birds twittering in the trees and shrubs. Do you use the Merlin app? I downloaded it after reading about it on another blog. It identifies birds by sound or photo and has revealed to me that there are many more birds around our garden than I can see. 

The David Austen Lichfield Angel rosebush is enormous and laden with a bounty of faintly fragrant creamy blooms. The flowers are so heavy that the branches bend down to the ground. We've propped up a few to prevent breaking, but I'm going to do some research into how best to care for this plant. 

Cosmos planted from seed are now adding a bright spot to the garden. 

It's a banner year for blueberries. We have six bushes and have already picked over 22 pounds of them, and there will be more to come. The birds have eaten another couple of pounds and then there are the ones that go immediately from branch to stomach via grandchildren hands. I'm weighing my garden produce this summer, just for curiosity's sake. Pulling out a container of frozen berries in the winter is true luxury. We eat them with granola and yogurt, or I use them in baking. 

Another little ordinary delight is cutting bouquets for the house. Multicoloured snapdragons are the latest. And sweet peas. My parents are coming for a few days and I will be making a bouquet for their room this morning. 

Wishing you everyday delights.

Water and More Water

 

British Columbia's coastline is over 25,000 km (15,000 miles) long, incised by deep fjords reaching into the heart of the Coastal Mountains. Roughly spanning 11 degrees of latitude (49th to 60th), there are only four access points from the interior of Canada to the Pacific Ocean because of the rugged terrain. Vancouver and Prince Rupert are easily reached by excellent highways. Stewart, where we visited a couple of years ago, is another. 

Part Two of our recent road trip took us to Bella Coola, the fourth access point to the coast via roads. Scottish explorer Sir Alexander Mackenzie, the first European to cross the North American continent north of Mexico, reached Bella Coola in July 1793. Had he arrived just six weeks earlier, he would have met Captain Cook who sailed up the long fjords to the same spot. What a meeting that would have been! 

The road to Bella Coola includes an infamous section known as The Hill, or The Precipice. Descending from 5000 feet to sea level in 10 kilometres via treacherous curves on a steep gravel road with no guardrails where looking over the edge is like looking into an abyss, it's not for the fainthearted. Locals told us that some people who drive down refuse to return via the same route, preferring to fly out, or take the ferry. Tim put the Tahoe in four-wheel drive low and crawled safely down the hill. I just prayed. And took a few photos.

Once there, we settled into our campsite with a magnificent view of snow-capped mountains. The Heiltsuk people have lived in the area for thousands of years, hunting and fishing the deep waters. In the early 1900s a group of Norwegian settlers arrived from Minnesota and their descendants still live in the area.

Water is everywhere. Glacial fed rivers tumble over rocks in hundreds of waterfalls, tall and small. 

The fjord is very long, bending and turning along various arms. There is so much fresh water entering the fjord that it has the distinctive milky green colour created by glacial flour. As one travels down the fjords the water changes to the more typical ocean blue. 

Sunny weather was the rule for most of our stay in Bella Coola. On the one rainy day, we drove up into the mountains on a forestry road (ie: rough). Although we didn't see the glacier we hoped for, the landscape astounded us with its beauty. High alpine meadows are home to a wonderful array of flora and fauna. 

The mountains played peek-a-boo with the clouds. 

On our way out of Bella Coola we saw our second bear of the trip, ambling down the road, weaving back and forth along the centreline as if doing a sobriety test. He slowly moved to the side as we inched closer to him. 

Back up The Hill to the interior plain again, also beautiful and green. 

Down through the arid lands around Cache Creek, and along the Fraser River until we reached the ferry terminal, and home. 

As Canada Day approaches I am so thankful for this beautiful land where I live. Happy Canada Day to my fellow Canadians! 

Gold and Water

 

Home again after a fun trip exploring some of the more remote corners of our beautiful province. After taking the ferry to the mainland, we stopped at Nairn Falls Campground. A short walk took us to the lookout from where we heard the water thundering over the rocks and through the canyon carved out over millennia by the power of water.  

Up along the Duffy Lake Road that winds through the Coastal Mountains into the interior of BC. The landscape changed dramatically from coastal rainforest to rolling hills covered with sagebrush. We settled into a campsite at Seton Lake where a dam provides hydroelectricity for the power grid. 

In the 1960s my father drove a tanker-trailer hauling fuel to many places. One of those was the mining town of Bralorne. Dad said that he first drove the road in the winter, at night. He was so shaken by the experience that he told his dispatcher he wouldn't drive it again. However, the next night, away he went. At least he knew what to expect the second time. 

Tim and I drove the road in the daylight, in summer, without a trailer, and that was an adventure! The road is winding and narrow, clinging to the cliff, with many signs warning of rock fall. We drove around rocks going, and even more returning. 

Bralorne is a mostly abandoned gold-mining town, with its heyday in the 1940s and 50s. During the Fraser River goldrush in the 1850s miners rushed to place their claims along the rivers in the area. Few made it as far as Bralorne as the terrain is very steep and uninviting. In the late 1800s the mother lode of gold was discovered and a mine constructed in 1931. The mine was the richest gold mine in Canada, but closed in 1971 due to the low cost of gold (about $34 cdn per ounce). 

Tim spoke with some men at the mine site which has been reactivated, because, as we know, the price of gold has risen considerably. The mine will never be as vast as it once was, but still productive.

A friend of mine grew up in Bralorne. She attended the church shown above, one of the few well-maintained buildings in town. 

Abandoned houses and gardens tell the stories of the past. In one, yellow roses bloom alongside lilac bushes. Poppies grow from stone walls. A few homes are occupied as the area is great for heli-skiing in the winter. 

The old community hall is locked and no longer in use due to safety concerns. But beside one outside corner is a pay telephone and a post office box. The school was first converted to a museum, but is now abandoned and the museum housed in the former post office. It was closed the day we were there. 

A circular outdoor feature displays various pieces of mining equipment with short descriptions of their use, and this old fire truck. We noticed that many of the buildings in town, lived-in or not, have sprinklers on the roofs, a necessity in this area where forest fires have ravaged areas.

Hydro dams dot the area. All the water rushing down the mountains is put to good use in generating power for our province. I wonder which has been the most profitable - gold or water? 

Postcards from the Road

 

We’re off exploring our beautiful province. Hairpin turns, 

majestic views in remote territory where bear warnings abound, but we have not seen one yet. 

Stunning waterfalls, rivers, and lakes a-plenty. 

Flowers growing in abandoned villages. 

Will fill in more on our return. 

Friday Favourites from Home and Away

I rather dropped off the blogosphere for a couple of weeks. We were camping on the west coast of Vancouver Island, in Ucluelet (pronounced as it's written - the U (you) is the first syllable). Our hikes took us along very rugged shores with stunning views of sea, rocks, and sky. The weather, which can be quite wet, cooperated fully with lots of sunshine and no rain. 

There are some fantastical-looking natural sculptures in the forest. This tangle of tree trunk and roots looks to me like a prehistoric creature frozen in time. Enormous trees, bald eagles, much birdsong, a little kayaking, hiking, and relaxing with a view nicely filled the four days of our trip.

One morning we drove along the highway a short distance to enjoy a picnic lunch on a sandy beach. How surprising to see thick drifts of mist obscuring the waves and rocks. If one were out at sea, it would be dangerous. No wonder this stretch of water is called the Graveyard of the Pacific. 

We saw no boats, but during our walk along the beach, a group of cyclists materialized out of the mist, silently pedaling past us to disappear just as quickly in the other direction. Surreal is the word that came to mind.

We've been home now for a week, catching up with house and garden. There've been a number of appointments and social engagements keeping us busy, including a birthday party for a 6-year-old and a new teenager. Last night was the band/choir concert for our newly 13-year-old granddaughter. 

The pale pink peonies (I think they are Sarah Bernhardt) have delighted me all week. I believe these ruffled beauties are my favourites of them all, so feminine and elegant. 

Every few days I pick another bowlful of ripe strawberries, juicy and sweet. We slice them into our breakfast granola, or eat them plain. I've frozen a couple of bags for winter to use for sauces or smoothies. Soon the blueberries will ripen from green to dusty blue-purple. The bushes are loaded and a couple of American Robins have been visiting. To hopefully deter them, we've strung rope above the bushes and hung blank CDs on string to dance and dazzle in the sunshine. Those CDs have been sitting in a box for years, of no use to us as originally intended. It's quite festive looking from my kitchen window. We will see how effective they are. 

There's an invasive species that's appeared in the past five years - the European Wall Lizard. The story of its appearance is a cautionary tale - a man once had a small zoo on nearby. When he tired of the zoo, he let the animals loose. The lizard was one of them and it has slowly made inroads, moving from the site of its release on the peninsula to invade gardens throughout the south island. I'm certain they will move northwards, as well. I don't like the creatures at all, but they have one semi-redeeming feature in that they eat the slugs that used to carve holes into my strawberries. 

Roses are the stars of the garden now. Lichfield Angel is the newest and produces bloom after creamy bloom. I am a little startled by how large the bush is and am contemplating pruning it to not sprawl quite so much. There is always a bouquet or two or three of roses in the house these days, in varying shades of pink and white. 

I tried a new dish, Muhalabia, an Arabic milk pudding faintly flavoured with rose water. My Persian friend gave me a bottle of rose water and I'm looking for ways to use it. The pudding is similar to Panna Cotta from Italy, but thickened with cornstarch rather than gelatin. Not too sweet and delicious with fresh strawberries and a sprinkle of macadamia nuts (the recipe recommends pistachios). 

 Elderflowers adorn the bush these days. My little helper Cora held the blossoms while I snipped them to make Elderflower Cordial. On a warm summer day a tall glass of club soda with ice and this concentrate is perfect for sipping while on the patio. 

I'm slowly catching up with reading blogs, and hope to visit you there soon. 

One Last Day in May

I'm barely slipping under the clock with this last May post. In most of the world it's already June. Outside my window a line of cloud-streaked light fills the sky, creating a silhouette of the trees. There's a bit of wind seen as one branch of a near lilac tree waves back and forth.

Peonies are my delight in the garden just now. The various bushes bloom at different times, prolonging the season. These creamy white Duchesse de Nemours are nearly finished, but how beautiful they've been. 

The bees are mad for chive blossoms. I counted at least six varieties of bees hard at work one sunny evening. 

Foxgloves, roses, and Lady's Mantle meld together in a fine trio against the hedge. The foxgloves are taller than I can remember, towering far above my head. 

Here Gertrude Jekyll seems to be whispering something to the foxglove. I wonder what secrets flowers would tell. Only the very nicest, I'm certain. 

I mentioned that my parents were celebrating their 70th wedding anniversary in my previous post. Here they are in May 1955. When I show the photo, people often comment on how lovely Mom's dress is. I agree, but Mom tells me it wasn't the one she would have chosen. Her father and stepmother chose it for her. 

Several years ago Mom donated her dress to an organization that makes gowns for stillbirth babies. 

And here they are after 70 years. Still in love, still smiling. Marriage isn't always easy, but they've stuck together through thick and thin, committed to each other and to God. My siblings and I are so thankful to have them.

One last peony image for this post. We made a quick trip to the mainland to celebrate with Mom and Dad, taking them out for lunch, having a special cake, and a short photo session. Just eight of us - my parents, my siblings and I, and our spouses. 

Today I've puttered in the garden, including cutting this bouquet of peonies. There were just a few white buds left, so I included them along with the pink ones. 

May has been such a lovely month with plenty of sunshine and some much-needed rain, making it perfect for getting the vegetable garden in. Last night after arriving home I went out to see three pole bean seeds barely poking through the dirt. This morning they are unfurling their first seed leaves. So much fun to watch. 

"And then, one fairy night, 

May became June."

F. Scott Fitzgerald