September Begins

 

Choosing a favourite season is a toss-up between summer and autumn. As August ends and September begins, my thoughts drift towards cozy evenings spent reading or stitching in a pool of lamplight, pulling up the covers during the night, crisp mornings and warm afternoons, apples and pears, and heartier meals. 

This past week I've thought about my fellow teachers preparing for the new school year. It was always fun to return to the school and find out what everyone did during the summer, to admire new haircuts and hear vacation stories and garden anecdotes. I miss that this year.

Instead I've been spending time with grandchildren, getting ready for a little vacation, and filling shelves with canning and the freezer with produce. I'm going to have to stop as the freezer is jammed full. 

Today I took two grands - a 9-year-old and a 2-year-old - to Fort Rodd Hill, a National Historic Site. The 9 was full of energy and bounced along the path, eager to get to the lighthouse. The 2 was also full of energy but stopped frequently to observe the world around her. She made 9 and I laugh a lot. 

Golden grasses against blue sky and sea make for beauty that seeps deep into the soul. This photo, and the heron below, are from last week's outing to Sidney Spit.

I find herons elegant and interesting. This one was out strolling the beach, carefully lifting one leg after another in search of something to eat.

Here she is going the other direction and trying to hide in the grasses. She crouched lower and lower, retracting that long neck while lifting those long legs. Sort of like walking while doing squats. That would be hard work for me. 

There's been some cookie baking - I posted the recipe on my recipe blog here. These are chock full of all kinds of good things - cranberries, nuts, chocolate. Yum. 

And so begins this beautiful month. There's a slew of family birthdays, and one anniversary to celebrate, beginning with our son's birthday. We're getting together tomorrow night for a little party. Then we're heading towards the Rockies for a couple of weeks in our camping trailer. There will be hikes, visits with family, perhaps a soak in the hot springs, and lots of beautiful views. I've packed clothes for all seasons as the nights are cool and we could even have frost in the mountains. 

I'm taking my camera and I'm hoping for some good sights in our beautiful National Parks of Canada. 

On a Weekend in August

 

The waters of the Salish Sea that surround our Island are dotted with smaller islands, some inhabited, some park preserve, some a mixture. They each have a character of their own. Sidney Island is just 30 minutes away in our slow boat and is the perfect outing for our older grandchildren and their parents. A long, sandy spit of land provides the ideal setting for walking or playing. Above the spit, trails meander through a forested area, and further on is a grassy meadow. There's a little bit of everything!

Off in the distance other islands beckon, shrouded in mist that is typical of August, also known as Fog-ust. 

Give children a beach and they entertains themselves for hours. We were treated to a beachy "feast" created with seaweed and shell concoctions that were carefully explained to us by the cooks. 

A colony of gulls spent a lot of time on this stretch of sand, quietly facing into the wind. 

My week was busy. I made salsa, canned a few jars of extra tomatoes, prepared more applesauce, did some garden cleanup, sewed with one grandchild, took another for a day, and the time passed quickly and pleasantly. I confess that when Friday arrived I was a wee bit grumpy and not really looking forward to going out on the boat the next day. However, once on the water, all the cares of the week drifted away and a wonderful sense of well-being filled me as I breathed in the fresh salt air and watched the grands enjoy themselves. 

Grandpa took them on a ride in the dinghy, slow at first, but faster and faster, always asking if they were okay with the speed. They screamed with delight and made his heart happy, too. 

I hope they all slept as well as I did after a day on the water.

The waitlist for The Kitchen Front was very long at our library, but worth the wait. It was a compelling story about four women during WWII, their hopes and dreams, their joys and sorrows. It was difficult to put down. 

Yesterday's sense of contentment and well-being continued into today, Sunday. Back in May I threw a package of cosmo seeds into the ground. They grew up taller than I am and produce bloom after bloom of delicate pink flowers. I love their airiness and the fern-like greenery. Today I clipped another bouquet and added some feverfew along with vinca greenery. I glance up every so often to admire them sitting on the mantel. 

And another week begins. This one will see another month begin. Summer is slipping away; every evening the light fades sooner and the temperature cools a bit more. For as long as the flowers last I'll clip cosmos and zinnias, dahlias and roses, and hang onto summer for as long as I can. 

Boats and Beaches

Just a few years ago our children laughed gently at us for wanting to make plans more than a few hours in advance. "Be spontaneous," they said. So we tried. 

Fast forward a few years. Spontaneity is out the window, as once the grandchildren appeared, schedules ruled and calendars must be coordinated far in advance. 

So when the wind blew on a cloudy Sunday morning, Tim and I looked at each other and wondered if the planned-in-advance boating outing should go ahead. We decided to give it a try -we could always turn back and do something else, if needed. We're so flexible that way, now, you know. 

The wind lessened considerably before we left, but the clouds intensified. "Splat, splat" against the windshield went the rain. It looked like the sandpails and shovels were not going to be needed, after all. We ate lunch on the boat, then set out for a walk, first in the woods, then along the beach. 

We saw a number of Great Blue Herons, a Bald Eagle, a pair of River Otters, numerous Gulls, and a Killdeer faking a broken wing to lure a dog away from its nest. Very few people.

It was a monotone day, grey lightened by splotches of pale sand and yellow-green grasses. We got wet; my hair frizzled, my feet were cold. But boy, did we have fun!

These two cousins ran back and forth amongst the lions (aka adults), hid in the forest, explored the beaches, dammed up a small tricklet of water, giggled and chatted. Riding on an uncle and grandpa's shoulders gave them a wee break from running back and forth. I'm certain they put in quadruple the steps we adults took. 

A brick factory once operated on Sidney Island and evidence is left in the spread of broken bricks on the beach. Someone began piling up a few of them, and our two young adventurers contributed.

Although I'm longing for some warmth and sunshine, I'm learning to find the loveliness present in almost every moment. The layers of sky, sand, and sea on Sidney Spit undulate across the horizon in an ever-changing, ever-fascinating roll-out of subtle colour and dramatic texture.

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

Hanging on to Summer

Here we are. The great blue bowl of September skies covers us in the afternoons. The first day of this month was a great day to pile 6 adults and 2 children into the boat and take a short ride to Sidney Island for a day of sun and sand.

Never lose an opportunity of seeing

anything beautiful, 

for beauty is God's handwriting

Ralph Waldo Emerson  

Together we walked along the wooded trail to the walk-in campsite, then circled around to the other side of the small island, took steps back down to the beach and meandered back along the sand. Water + sticks + sand + children = unending entertainment.

Sticks and sand also provided entertainment for our son, who found this pointy-headed creature and thought he needed sunglasses. 

Not even a hint of wind ruffled the tidal pools in the morning. Calm waters and perfect reflections hint at the resignation of summer's soon end. Meanwhile, we soak in the sun and delight in the thought of cooler nights.

Go out, go out, I beg of you,

and taste the beauty of the wild.

Behold the miracle of the earth 

with all the wonder of a child. 

Edna Jaques

Eel grass is thrown up by waves onto the beach to dry and tangle, or be caught by a rising tide and tossed back into the sea. 

An indomitable blackberry plant grows from an old stump, surviving hot days with no rain. 

Oh, that blue sky!

Instructions for living a life.

Pay attention.

Be astonished

Tell about it.

Mary Oliver 

Linking with Mosaic Monday, hosted by Maggie of Normandy Life. 

Gardens and Beaches

It's time for Mosaic Monday once again. I can't get over how brightly coloured these Cineraria are, seen at Butchart Gardens. Mass plantings of them are like a POW to the eyeballs. 

Spring has been unseasonably cold thus far, but that all changed over the weekend. On Saturday we took our son and his family out on the boat, just across Sidney Channel. 

I always enjoy observing the arrangements tossed onto shore by the waves and wind. Half-buried clamshells, delicate sand cupped in purple-hued mussels, intricate barnacles, and more.

A shallow tide pool + sand + seaweed + shovels + a found piece of plywood to float + imagination = hours of absorbed fun for Bigs and Littles alike. Mr. F also had fun pretending to drive the boat. 

What a day! Off in the hazy distance is Mount Baker, in Washington State. 

Three gulls on a log were unfazed by the ferry boat passing in the distance. I don't know if the gulls were nesting or not, but one of them swooped down low over me, squawking all the while, and making it very clear that I was unwanted. 

It's the Victoria Day weekend here, so tomorrow is another day off. I just love Sunday nights when Monday is a holiday. 

Linking with Mosaic Monday, hosted by Maggie of Normandy Life. 

Sidney Spit

  

Spit: a narrow coastal land formation that is tied to the coast at one end...Spits, which may be completely formed of shingle or sand, are formed by the longshore movement of sediment. They are often completed curved, with a characteristic recurved head (hook). 

After our wonderful Easter dinner with family last night, followed by a joyous church service this morning, Tim and I packed up some dinner leftovers and launched the boat for the first time this year. 

Our destination wasn't far - Sidney Island, clearly visible from our own, much larger island, just a couple of kilometres away. Scenic Mount Baker showed her pretty white head across the water. 

I've wanted to walk the length of the sand spit on the north side of the island for a long time. The spit is mostly covered by water during high tide. Today, though, a very low tide happened mid-afternoon, enabling us to walk the full length (2 kilometres) of the spit and back with ease. 

We did not dawdle on our walk, for although the sun shone most of the time, the wind whistled about our ears and had me pulling up my hoodie for warmth. 

The east side of the spit is sandy beach that rises up to a narrow top and then falls away on the other side to mud, rocks and intertidal pools where birds like to congregate. Today we saw Great Blue Herons, Gulls, Eagles, and migratory Brant Geese en route to their northern nesting grounds in the Arctic. 

At the south end of the spit, one-third of Sidney Island comprises a national park, and the other two-thirds is privately owned. In the early 20th century, a group of Victoria business men purchased the island to use as a hunting preserve. They introduced guinea fowl and peacocks, as well as fallow deer that are now considered invasive. 

A view from the trail lookout, slightly above the beach, shows the meandering shoreline of the spit. 

After returning to our boat (via the dinghy), we tried relaxing and reading for awhile, but the rocking waves soon had us firing up the engine and heading back to shore. All in all, it was a successful first run for the season, and we hope to do some longer trips in the near future. 

Linking with Mosaic Monday, hosted by Maggie of Normandy Life. 

An Island Walk

The best thing about having a boat, as far as I'm concerned, is not the boat itself, but the ability to explore new places, especially places not accessible by road or ferry. We went to Sidney Island on Sunday afternoon. There is a small ferry that shuttles passengers back and forth from our big island, but we went on our own boat. 

There's a park and a nature preserve as well as a lot of old bricks for in the early 20th century Sidney Island produced thousands of red bricks. The shadows lengthened as we walked the trails yet plenty of heat was to be had in the sunny spots.
  

An old piling stands in the water, rotting from the inside. Perhaps a bird dropped a seed here and it took root - an invasive Himalayan blackberry, but pretty in this spot where the thorns won't tear. 
 

Water, soft and smooth as silk. Sidney Island has a narrow spit of sandy beach at the north end of the island that stretches low and long, and is covered by water at high tide. 
 

Golden grasses wave in clumps on the sand. Here the view is to the east, to islands of Canada and the USA and to the mainland beyond. A hint of Mount Baker is visible in the right third of the photo.

The first three photos are straight out of the camera, capturing the saturated evening light. I had fun in PicMonkey with the last photo, playing a little and adding a bit of text. 

I've not been on the computer much the last few days and the next couple of weeks will be limited as well. Those golden grasses tell me that summer is peaking and will soon wind down (Noooooo, she says) and I mean to enjoy all the sunshine I can. 

Are you a summer person, or is there another season you prefer?