A Jaunt Into the Rockies

 

Early this week we left our island home, crossed the Strait on a ferry, and enjoyed dinner with my parents and siblings. Monday morning saw us slip quietly out of the house in the early morning darkness, and drive up over the Coastal Mountains (snow!), down into the interior plateau, winding along a river and through another mountain pass to arrive at Jasper, Alberta. The almost full moon welcomed us on our first night, glowing through the clouds. 

Jasper National Park lies next to its larger and probably more famous neighbour, Banff National Park. It had its beginnings as a fur trading post, then a railway town. The trains come and go here throughout the day, but quietly, with no whistles. In July 2024 wildfires swept the surrounding mountains, burning up to the tree line. To add to the devastation, 30 percent of the townsite burned - private homes, small business, hotels, and historic churches. There is a huge building program going on now to replace these structures. Everyone we spoke with was very positive about the future.

The smell of the burned forest still wafts through the area. Denuded trees stand as tall sentinels to the fierce winds and flames that ravaged hectares and hectares of land. 

The temperature on our first day exploring was COLD for us. -10 degrees Celsius. I layered up as much as I could, and then wore Tim's down vest over my down jacket. There was no snow in town, but when we drove to Maligne Lake, snow crunched underfoot and ice is forming on the edge of the lake. 

Such amazing scenery. We were in awe at every turn, surrounded by high peaks whose crags and ridges were highlighted by snow. 

Curves of water and rocks lead the eye to the tall peaks. Clear blue sky all day made everything crisp and bright. 

Jasper is about 360 kilometres further north than our home (and 878 km to drive). By 3 pm shadows slant long across the ground and the sun slips behind the mountains much earlier than we're used to. Above you can see the golden grasses - the first plants to grow under the burned forest. It's truly amazing how nature is rejuvenating. Beauty from ashes. 

That first day we also visited Athabasca Falls. Water levels are low at this time of year, but there was still plenty of thundering and crashing. Icicles are formed by the spray from the falls. 

And soon the sun slides beneath the hills as the water calms into the wide river. 

That gorgeous glacier green/blue water reflects everything beautifully. The fires burned right to the water. 

Tomorrow we drive home. It will take about 8.5 hours to the ferry, then 90 minutes to cross and 30 minutes from there. We've had such a wonderful time and there are more stories to tell. I'm looking forward to catching up with all of you once I'm settled again. 

Blogtober 31: And That's a Wrap

 

Outside in the darkness, fireworks snap and crackle. The doorbell has stopped ringing and we brought in the candle and pumpkin, and turned out the light. What fun when we opened the door to see three grandchildren decked out in their costumes. 

October's leaf party has been spectacular this year. Lots of colour and piles of leaves to scuff through. We've enjoyed some lovely hikes, a bit of gardening on sunnier days, a few outings, and lots of quiet evenings at home. 

Thank you for reading along during this month of daily postings. I so appreciate each of you in this virtual space. I've been blogging for many years and have come to think of this little space as my home on the vast digital planet. 

More rain is in the forecast and sodden leaves will soon sink into the ground, decay, and feed the forest. Tomorrow night we turn the clocks back and November will arrive. My eldest daughter has a birthday tomorrow and informed the family that she will have 25 hours of birthday festivities rather than the usual 24. She's a teacher and is looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow morning. 

November lies ahead, 30 days of opportunity. See you soon. 

 

Blogtober 30: Another Year Around the Sun

 

I awoke a bit later this morning and was so pleased to see light outside rather than inky darkness. It's a little taste of the brighter mornings after the time change on Saturday night. I met with my writer's group today. Gathering with likeminded people is both encouraging and inspiring. Just like coals in a fire need each other to keep the flame alight, we humans are social creatures and need each other to thrive. 

My walk this morning went through the woods where all kinds of fungi hang out. Big ones and tiny ones. About half way through my walk I wished I'd worn gloves. The breeze was sharp and carried with it a strong reminder that it's the end of October. 

A cute mushroom nestled in the bark of a fallen tree looks like a very tiny person might emerge from the cavity and set off on a walk with a natural umbrella. 

This afternoon my youngest daughter invited us over for scones and tea. Homemade apricot jam alongside. And a hand-painted card with a lovely message. Utterly delightful. 

I'm posting a bit earlier tonight because friends are coming over and we will cut into this beautiful cake my husband ordered. Lemon and white chocolate. Mouthwatering. 

It's been a lovely birthday. Another trip around the sun. I am thankful to God for the gifts of life and health, for family and friends. The world is full of such immense beauty alongside the brokenness we see in the news every day. While not ignoring the hard things, and doing what I can to alleviate suffering (which isn't much), I choose to focus on the loveliness of small things and nature. 

On a lighter note, Agatha Christie once said, "An archaeologist is the best husband a woman can have. The older she gets the more interested he is in her." 

Blogtober 29: An Ordinary Day

 

The newly cleaned brass candlesticks are on the mantel again. I like the clustered look with different shapes. It was a sunny day, a bit windy, but bright and clear. 

After a morning spent tidying and cooking in the house, I took myself off for a walk. Quaking Aspen leaves glinted like gold in the breezy sunshine. And the sound - so lovely. Cottonwoods grow nearby and I noticed how similar their leaf shape is to the Aspens, just bigger. Sure enough, they're related. I'm tickled to learn this little new fact. 

For most of the summer the pond has been very dry and the ducks absent. With the recent rain, the water is trickling back and the ducks have returned. They quacked loudly to warn the others of my approach. Ripples of wind danced across the water and brought the scent of clear cool air with a hint of salty brine from the ocean that is never far away. 

Along the path shriveled blackberries cling to their stems while the next limb holds red berries that are fated to never ripen. There are crimson rose hips and white snowberries lining the paths, food for the birds in the lean months ahead. The skeletons of the enormous Garry Oak trees are beginning to show through the thinning leaves. 

Leaves of all sorts carpet the ground and I noticed today that the vast majority of them lie face down on the ground. I wonder why, for the they rarely fall in a single straight line, but twirl and sway as they go. 

Amid all the tawny browns, golds, and reds that characterize this time of year, a field of pink cyclamen seems out of place. But oh, so pretty. 

An ordinary day. I am thankful for these quiet days of little drama and much beauty. As Anne of Green Gables said, "I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string."

Blogtober 28: Home Affairs

 

While stopped at a traffic light this afternoon, my eye was caught by a row of golden maple trees swaying in the wind. How graceful they looked. These windy days will soon tear the leaves from their precarious hold. I am soaking in all the colour I can. 

These are the days to light candles in the evening. To be cozy by the fire. Sunday suppers are simple affairs. I used the last of the cherry tomatoes from our garden along with herbs and cheese to make a topping for bread slices. That along with crudites filled us nicely. 

Most book end papers are plain affairs. Louise Penny's hardcover books have beautiful ones, very painterly. I just checked my other books and some hardcovers have them and others don't. 

Today is the release date for The Black Wolf. I pre-ordered it and went to the bookstore today to pick it up. It will wait patiently until I'm ready for it. I'm in the middle of re-reading The Grey Wolf first. It ends with a question that leads into the next book, and I want to familiarize myself with the story once more. 

The sun was elusive today and by the afternoon it seemed quite dark. I polished my brass candlesticks and a brass vase. Fresh lemon juice, salt, a soft rag and some elbow grease made a big difference. 

Dinner tonight was a Cottage Pie - I confess that we always called it Shepherd's Pie when I was a child, but have since learned that the original was made with ground lamb. Cottage Pie is virtually the same but made with ground beef. A warming and hearty meal for a chilly day. 

While out collecting my book, I bought this jigsaw puzzle. How pretty it is with the snow in the garden. It will be good to assemble it while thinking of the gardening season to come in a few months. 

Mornings are so very dark now. We change time this weekend, and will gain light in the morning. I'm looking forward to that. I don't mind the evening darkness so much, but getting up in inky darkness isn't fun. I really have nothing to complain about. On IG I follow a young woman named Cecelia who lives on Svarlbard, in the far north of Norway. For her and the other residents, they've seen their last bit of sun until February. 111 days of polar night. I'd find that rather difficult, would you? 

Blogtober 27: How to Celebrate a Birthday

 

Birthdays come around every year. Mine is later this week. I receive texts, cards, and phone calls. There will be party in a couple of weeks to celebrate my birthday, and those of my eldest daughter and my daughter-in-law. I don't have anything to do with the planning or details. It's kind of fun to not be involved. 

When we lived overseas, far from family, Tim always made my day special. He and the children baked a cake, wrapped presents, and did the dishes. Sometimes we went out for dinner. In the small jungle town near where we lived in the early years, there was no flower shop, but the funeral parlour sold bunches of chrysanthemums to place on gravesites. Tim would bring me a bunch because he knew how much I loved flowers, no matter where they came from. 

I also learned that it was just fine to make my day special in its own way. I would take some time to do what I wanted, such as sew or read. A Victoria magazine, always late to arrive, would be saved to enjoy with a cup of tea. Lighting candles, starting a new book, or wearing a favourite outfit are still things I like to do to mark my birthday. If I can manage it during my birthday week, a few hours spent wandering through bookstores is always special. 

Of course, it doesn't take a birthday to treat yourself well. Iris Murdoch said, "One of the secrets of a happy life is continuous small treats." Here's a short list of some of my small treats - 

a square or two of dark chocolate after dinner

stores with vintage goods

beautiful books

tea with a friend or two

kicking up autumn leaves on a walk in the sunshine

reading blog comments

dabbling in watercolour paints

arranging a vase of flowers

listening to raindrops splat against the windows while warm and cosy indoors

What are some of your small treats?

Blogtober 26: Through the Forest to the Sea

 

The rain is pouring down today. Shortly after noon we spied a break in the weather and drove to Witty's Lagoon for a walk. The heavens opened about half way there and we wondered what we were doing. However, we donned our rain jackets and set off down the trail in what had eased to little more than a drizzle. 

How quiet and still the woods are with only the sound of water dripping off the leaves onto the earth. We caught the scent of ripe apples from the once productive orchard, now neglected, where apples now carpet the ground. The Coast Salish people had settlements here for at least 1000 years. The first European settler, John Witty, established a farm here, as did the Hudson Bay Company. 

The chatter of kingfishers, a flapping of ducks taking off, and the waves lapping the shore added another layer of enjoyment to our walk. 

The tide was up, so there wasn't much beach visible. The large domed white-ish mass in the middle of the photo above is what's left of a jellyfish washed up on shore, a rather large one. How colourful the arrangement was with bull kelp, sea lettuce and a variety of other sea plants. 

Our shores are always covered with driftwood. One piece had two of these very large nuts and bolts attached. 

An open seashell on the beach. I walked past it, then turned back when the words from Anne Morrow Lindbergh came to mind, "One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach - waiting for a gift from the sea."

Seals played in the water just off the beach, two rounded humps each for head and body, floating without a care in the world. 

Back we went along the shore, through the woods, up the hill, and around a few corners to view the Sitting Lady Falls. Soon there will be much more water flowing over the rocks. 

Home again where the deluge began once more, but we were dry and cosy enjoying the warmth of the fire. Sometimes it's hard to get out of the house especially on such a dreich day, but it's almost always worth the effort. This was one of those days. 

Our sweet little overnight guests were picked up mid-morning. They are becoming very responsible - when Iris spilt a bit of milk on the table at breakfast, she promptly got down from her chair, fetched a towel, and wiped it up.