Abandoned Dreams

One might think, traveling off the beaten path, that few people have been to certain places. But up and down this coastline of ours, all 27,200 kilometres (16,900 miles) that wind in and out of deep inlets and fjords, and around some 40,000 islands, big and small, one finds evidence of past human activity. 

Midden beaches mark the spots where First Nations harvested shellfish. Crumbling villages and rotting totem poles are all that remain from many settlements. 

From the nearer past, boarded up and falling down structures are all that's left of many people's dreams. On Tumbo Island, accessible only by boat, a house, a barn, and a tottering stone chimney bear silent witness to someone's hopes. 

Whoever lived in this cabin planted a couple of rosemary bushes that are now sprawling wildly. I picked a few sprigs and took them back to the boat. That same someone planted lavender, too, whose long spires were busy with bees. 

And who chose the colour of this door? She, or he, and I have something in common - an attraction to rosemary and lavender, this pretty blue - yet I know nothing of her. No name remains, only silent buildings and overgrown plants. 

Historical records tell us that the island was once used for coal mining (too deep), fur farming (mink and foxes), and that Chinese immigrants who worked in the mines grew a large market garden and rowed (!) the produce across the Strait of Georgia to White Rock (about 20 miles). 

An abandoned rowboat bakes in the sun. The island is now a park, although a small section is still privately owned and occasionally occupied. Remote settlements such as this became more rare as fishing and logging were commercialized and single operators just couldn't make a living.

It's a quiet place to visit. The big pleasure boats don't stop here, as the anchorage is shallow and crisscrossed by shallow reefs. Across the Strait, the densely occupied BC and Washington coastlines are visible, and tanker boats and container ships sail by regularly, but Tumbo and Cabbage Islands drowse in the sun, hardly noticed by civilization.

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

Cruising Down Memory River

Just one year ago we were in Europe. I've been reading my travel journal, remembering, and enjoying the trip all over again. Today's post features photos taken during our Avalon river cruise up the Seine. I can't say enough good things about the cruise. It's a good thing we can enjoy it over and over again in memory. The sunflower bloomed in Monet's Garden. 

Close to where our ship docked in Vernon, this house, bordering on the river, had an "Â vendre" sign out front. The gate was open, and the front door, so my friend and I walked into the garden and up the stairs. We were not quite brave enough to walk in the door, but we did peer in a little. Were we brash? The idea of purchasing such a house and renovating it occupied an hour or two of pleasant conversation later. Our husbands were not so enthralled with the idea. 

Wrought iron fences are a weakness of mine, and this one, painted robin's egg blue, went to the top of the list. 

I think my favourite colour is blue. (Any family members reading this are rolling their eyes and saying, "duh.") Isn't this the prettiest window? Blue gingham curtains with a little ruffle, blue shutters, and a pot of white flowers. It just makes me sigh with satisfaction. 

Church steeples dominated the landscape of each village. There is such disdain for the Church in many places today, yet people forget that without it, much of our knowledge would have been lost, health care would not be where it is today, and society would be very different. I'm not excusing the injustices and atrocities committed, but I think that modern society has lost its compass. We have become so arrogant that we believe we hold all the answers ourselves. It doesn't seem to be working so well.

The old mill of Vernon straddles two piers of an ancient bridge. The waterwheel is long gone, but the mill has been preserved. It likely dates from the 16th century, and was painted by Claude Monet. An engraving of the mill is featured on the postal stamp of Vernon. 

The food on the Avalon Creativity was amazing! There was no standing in line at buffets, but instead very civilized dining with various beautifully presented courses, served by attentive waiters as the ship sailed along the river. Buffets were available for breakfast and lunch, but with only 80 people aboard, there was never a wait. 

There were always several choices on the menu, including vegetarian options. What really tickled my fancy was the option for a cheese course instead of dessert. The cheeses and accompaniments varied every night. Oh my, they were delicious!

One last photo of Monet's house as seen from the garden. 

Do you make vacations last long after your return home? What makes a vacation memorable for you? 

Home Keeping

I love teaching, and I also love puttering at home. Balancing the two takes effort. Summers are wonderful times to do the things I don't have the time or energy for in other seasons. 

Tea on the patio with raspberry scones felt like a luxury. I'm planning to do more of this.

On the last day of our boating trip, we met these sweet faces (and their father - their mother was working) at the dock and took them to Sidney Island for a few hours. They were quite intrigued with the little dinghy bobbing along behind the boat. I suggested a little rowing excursion. This is a new-to-us dinghy and the oars are MUCH longer than the old ones. I'm having a hard time getting coordinated and our trail through the water looks quite wobbly. One of my passengers inquired why we were going so slowly! I thought I was doing well just to get back to the boat!

Anyone want kale? The garden is producing mountains of it. I'm thinning the plants and making kale chips (no substitute at all for potato chips), kale gratin, kale salad, etc. I asked our neighbour if he would like some and the answer was an emphatic "no!" 

My parents grew a large garden in my younger years and as I shelled those few peas in the container above, I thought about shelling peas as a child. My father put up the old canvas camping tent and we used it for shade while shelling. I've decided that frozen peas are just fine and I won't be growing peas anymore.  

Our temperatures are pleasant - they could be a wee bit warmer for my liking, but I'm particular, according to Tim. Eating outside makes a simple meal almost party-like. 

Making bouquets from the garden is another luxury. The lace cap hydrangea bush is finally doing something after poking along for a couple of years. I look around to see what's doing well and cut a few stems, then plunk everything together - in this case, roses and asters.

Trying out new recipes is fun, especially when they are as easy as this one. I saw it on Madonna's blog Make Mine Lemon, and adapted the flavours a little. Well, a lot, because I wanted to use what I had. And it was delicious!

A couple of years ago Tim and I made a little tent for one of the grandchildren. We just finished another one for a little man who's been requesting one. He'll be coming over to spend the day tomorrow and will see it then. 

En route to Cabbage Island on our boating trip last week, we spent a night in Bedwell Harbour. The resort there is a lovely place for a getaway - we've gone in early spring and thoroughly enjoyed it. The way it glowed in the setting sun is magical. 

The light also reminds me of the precarious situation that many residents of our province are facing with wildfires. One of my cousins has been evacuated from her home, and many are on alert. Over 400 square kilometres of land has been scorched, and 14,000 people displaced from their homes. A state of emergency has been called. Several homes have burned to the ground. The Island is not affected, but there is concern everywhere. This situation came about very suddenly as the temperatures rose and dry lightning strikes lit the dry forests. We are all praying for heavy rain with no lightning. 

Off the Beaten Path

We had planned an extended boating trip for these first two weeks of July, however, with Tim's mother's passing, we had no time to get ready, and no real energy for the trip. Tim canceled all but one week of vacation and will take more later. Instead, after taking care of things here in the garden for a few days, we took a short jaunt to Cabbage Island Marine Park.

En route we saw seals, cormorants, bald eagles, and of course, plenty of gulls. 

Situated on the western edge of the Strait of Georgia, it's a bit off the beaten path. Reef Harbour lies between Cabbage Island (very small) and Tumbo Island (not quite so small). The islands are long and thin, and there are many rocky reefs to navigate. We paid close attention to our charts while the boat was pushed and pulled by strong currents. 

The first day there we hiked around Cabbage Island; it's about a kilometre - very short. The next day we visited Tumbo Island for a longer hike (about 5.5 km). We circled this beautiful bay with views to Mount Baker in the USA. Stunning, and almost tropical - in looks - the water was chilly!

A salt-water marsh to the left of the bay is home to many Canada Geese. This little family was out for a casual paddle.

When the parents saw us approaching, the goslings circled close to their mother while the father placed himself between his family and the perceived threat.

Beautiful Mount Baker seen from Reef Harbour. We could see across the Strait of Georgia to White Rock, BC, and towns in Washington State that we couldn't identify. One night, in the evening, as we were preparing for bed, we heard loud booms. Fireworks! It was July 4th! We saw a great show all along the beaches of Washington State, exploding light after exploding light, one after another, for at least 45 minutes. Beautiful! And no crowds!

Sunset over Cabbage Island. It was a welcome and needed break. Do you like to go off the beaten path? 

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

From Here and There

On our way home from Alberta this past week, we stopped for a picnic lunch at Hemlock Grove in Canada's Glacier National Park. The boardwalk is a short loop through the forest, over a stream, and a good place to stretch one's legs after hours in the car. 

A marmot showed up for the picnic, but he didn't want to eat anything we had (we didn't offer). He posed prettily for his photo, standing up straight and tall.

We traveled through several mountain ranges, although it's difficult to tell where one ends and another begins. It's wave after wave of beautiful peaks, fast-running streams and green coniferous forests.

Victoria to Red Deer is 1200 kilometres, and we make very few stops. These photos were all taken from the car. 

I'm always in awe of the early explorers and engineers who envisioned railways and roads through these mountains. What a daunting task.

I've been spending hours in the garden since our return. Thinning, pruning, weeding, deadheading. It's satisfying work. Raspberries are in season and we're enjoying them each day, as well as freezing some for the winter. 

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

Floral Bliss

I spent the morning in the garden, pruning, deadheading, weeding. How satisfying it is. I had my camera with me and snapped photos as I moved around. The job is not yet finished, but good progress has been made. 

Lavender is at its best just now. I hate cutting it, but want some to dry. I have a few plants in out-of-the-way places that I'll clip and let the others have their day(s) to shine.

This no-name rose blooms prolifically in the front garden.

I enjoyed my morning tea outdoors, accompanied by the first bouquet of sweet peas.

The Bolero Rose smells wonderful and its intricate whorls of petals are fascinating.

Feverfew grows everywhere. If it sprouts up where I don't want it, it's easy enough to pull out. And it fills blank spaces beautifully.

The jasmine is a frothy mass of scented blooms just now. That's a mirror to the lower left.

Cheerful Gerbera daisy.

A pot of lobelia and asters. With a healthy weed not seen until the photo was taken. 

Happy Weekend!
Linking with Floral Bliss, hosted by Riitta of Floral Passions. 

The End of June

Morning, not too early. The grass is still wet with dew. I walk first to the raspberry row and pick to fill the bottom of my bowl. Then up the sloping lawn to the blueberries. Topped with yogurt and some chopped nuts, this is a grand breakfast.

I look around my garden and am amazed at what has happened in just 10 days. Hydrangea bushes are filled with blooms, 

poppies bloom profusely, their flowers lasting a short while, then replaced by new blossoms. 

There's a lot of work here. Weeds have flourished alongside the flowers. There are many more blueberries and raspberries to be picked. Rose bushes need to be deadheaded. All in good time.

Tim and I left home last Monday and returned yesterday. Twelve long hours of driving plus a 90 minute ferry ride each way. It was a rather sudden trip. For four days we sat by Tim's mother's bedside in the hospital and watched as she slipped away from earth to heaven. A hard time. A holy time.

Over these 10 days I completed my marking and report cards, from a distance. We spent much time with family, sharing stories from the past. We held a funeral. We went through Mum's belongings and tried to help so that those who live near her won't have so much to do. 

I'm so very tired. And I'm rather looking forward to more time in the garden, alone with my thoughts. Thank you for your thoughts and prayers.  

The Romance of Peonies

They're blooming now, heavy, many-petaled heads that fall forwards. They should be tied up - perhaps over the weekend. These deep pink peonies are of the no-name variety; they were here on the property when we moved in. I've moved them and divided them and they have rewarded me with more blooms each year. 

The paler version is (I think) Sarah Bernhardt. How I love these. They remind me of romance - delicate, exuberant, full of careless joy. 

Since I knew we would be away last weekend, on Friday morning I cut a blossom that was just about to open into ruffled glory, put it into a glass of water and placed it in the fridge. What joy to return home to a peony blossom that seemed to have not aged a whit over 3 days. Here it is now, impossibly lush.

There's a promise of more to come. Fat buds of possibility nestle into pale petals.

Because peony plants can bloom for up to 100 years, they are symbols of marriage, but also of royalty and honour. Whatever their meaning, I'll enjoy their all-too-short season in the sun, or as the case is today, in the rain. 

edited to add: Things are a little rough in our extended family just now. Tim's mother is not doing well at all, and there are serious health issues in so many directions that it's hard to keep them all straight. It's a bit overwhelming, to tell the truth. My garden calms me and turns my thoughts to prayer. I'd appreciate prayers for Tim's mother, and for others I've not mentioned specifically. Thanks.