These Days

The strangeness of these days really hit home on Saturday morning when I went to the grocery store and saw a line up of people waiting to get in. Only 50 people at a time are permitted in the store. When I stay home, and keep the news off, I go about my daily routine with little difference than before. The pansies in the pot beside the front porch are blooming their hearts out these days, purple and yellow in endless blossoms (as long as I pick off the faded blooms). 

My sourdough starter needed feeding and I hated to throw away any of it, so last night I made a pan of sourdough biscuits to eat with the beef stew that simmered throughout the day sending wonderful smells throughout the house. 

Many people are freely sharing resources for staying busy during these days at home. I find no lack of things to do, in fact, I'm not accomplishing very much beyond the usual. Charlotte Lyons, on IG, shared this idea for a simple card. I thought it would be fun for the grandchildren to make, so I made sets, sketching quickly in pencil, then using a fine black liner before colouring my set. I'll pop them in the mail, or drop them off in a mailbox and perhaps that will keep the grands occupied for awhile. I had fun with mine, and the various elements can be rearranged as desired. 

I recently learned about Britain's Mass Observation Project that chronicles thoughts, opinions, and experiences of ordinary people. The current iteration began in 1981, but in 1937 people were invited to participate in creating "an anthology about ourselves." Those who participated sent their observations to a central location. This continued through WWII until the 1950s. 

I have always kept a journal, sometimes more regularly than others, but decided about a week ago that recording my thoughts during these strange days would serve as a record of the time for myself, and also help me to work through some of my emotions. I don't often write about current events in my journal, but I am doing so now. 

Over the weekend I baked some lemon shortbread with a lemon glaze. Crisp and buttery, with a melt-in-your mouth texture, they were shared with friends, and the last two remaining were sent to work with Tim this morning. 

Daffodils, hyacinths, and muscari vie with the pansies for colour in the garden. I cut a bouquet for the house and the sweet scent wafts when I walk by. 

I watched this bee for quite some time, busily going from flower to flower, and thought about how lovely life is just now, with spring popping out everywhere and the earth coming alive with flowers and insects. 

How important it is that we find the beauty and the joy in these days, and remember the sweetness of life. How are you faring in these strange times?

Friday: Through the Forest to the Beach

Good morning on the first full day of Spring. We are enjoying a spell of beautiful sunshine with some real warmth pouring down. These clear days mean chilly nights, and a bit of frost, but I won't complain about that. 

Tim and I had a week of vacation planned that was curtailed by the global situation we are all in the midst of. We did manage a couple of days away. Vancouver Island is 460 kilometres in length (290 miles). We live in the very south of the island, and we traveled northwards to Port Hardy, very near the northern tip. 

We visited San Josef Bay and that took a bit of time. From our hotel we drove 2 hours on an unpaved road that crossed the island from east to west. The road grew rougher as we neared the parking lot for San Josef Bay and we were glad to have a sturdy vehicle (Tahoe) and not my small car. 

Before arriving at the park, Tim asked me how many cars did I think would be there. My guess was 2 plus ours, his guess was 1 plus ours. We were surprised to see 6 vehicles in the lot - a popular place in spite of the distance. After putting on our hiking boots and loading our backpacks we set off through the woods. The trail is beautiful, mostly level, with small bridges and boardwalks over soggy areas. 

This is a remote area that was used by First Nations peoples for fishing. Two groups of settlers tried to establish communities here in the early 20th century, without success. We followed a small trail to where a homestead once stood. There are a few pieces of rusting metal stove in a clearing, and clumps of snowdrops that bear silent witness to someone planting a bit of familiar beauty in the wild. 

The forest trail opens abruptly onto an immense and beautiful wide beach. The tide was falling and white ruffled waves rolled up the shallow sand, then fell gently back. Gulls rose above the blue sea, bright against the dark forest, circling and crying before settling again onto the pale sand. 

On a headland to the right, rugged sea stacks, carved out over time by sea and wind, stand like sentinels in rough formation separating two beaches. Exploring them reminded me of wandering through some of Europe's magnificent architecture as they evoked the same sense of awe and of my own smallness. 

The irrepressible nature of life is seen on the top of each stack where small trees flourish in spite of the harsh conditions. 
Because of the brilliant day, photos were difficult. If you do a search for San Josef Bay online, you'll see some much better ones. 

We ate our picnic lunch enjoying the warm sun and stunning view.

Our rambling route back took us to Winter Harbour where tall ships once overwintered and where 7-12 people now live year round. It's a destination for sports fishermen and the population swells during the summer to several hundred, according to the woman who sold us a few snacks at the local store. 

Above is the morning view from our hotel room in Port Hardy.

Spring comes later on the north island, but bright robins flitted everywhere, a sure sign of warmer days to come. 

Listening to the news reports had us longing to be home, so we cut our trip short and drove home on another beautifully sunny day. I've been working in the garden, taking some solitary walks, and have many plans for things to do here at home. 

I've posted two videos of San Josef Bay on Instagram. You don't need to join to view them, and here's a link to my page Lorrie.Orr.Creative. 

I hope that you are faring well during these strange days. These are days to think of what's important in life, to gather strength for the days to come, and to lean heavily on God, if you are a person of faith. Check in with your loved ones, and with those around you. I spoke with my neighbour across the fence. She has a compromised immune system, is elderly, and is self-isolating. For now, she says she needs nothing, but is rather bored. If she needs a few groceries we've offered to help. We will get through this. The world may look very different on the other side, but by God's grace we will make it through.

Finding Beauty in the Everyday

"This is a wonderful day. I have never seen this one before."
Maya Angelou

 Outside my window this morning two trees, one blooming in pink, other other in white, toss in the wind, and the occasional petal flies through the air. 

Friday morning. I have an unexpected day off. Spring Break was to begin today after school, but due to the Covid-19 pandemic, the decision was made to close school a day early. It was done out of an abundance of caution. 

And so, today is wide open, and I wonder how I shall spend it? I began by making a pot of Paris Breakfast Tea, delicately flavoured with lavender. 

Throughout this week, as the news of the pandemic continued, the anxiety level of our students increased. Some were worried for themselves, but most were concerned about parents and grandparents, or those with chronic illness. Helping students navigate this very real and new threat is exhausting. In addition, illness hit several staff members hard - colds, not the virus - and I was called in to cover classes in addition to teaching my own. More exhaustion. So this extra day is a gift, a time to breathe and relax.

"Cooking and baking is both mental and physical therapy."
Mary Berry

Attempting the classic French Madeleine has been on my mental list of things to try for some time. I purchased a pan, but the time was never right to make the little cakes. Until this morning. 
First, I made granola and while that baked, made the batter for the Madeleines. Click on the link to go to the recipe I used. I followed Sally's advice to do everything slowly, with delicacy. While the dough rested in the fridge, I spoke with my mom on the telephone. 
The Madeleines turned out very well, tender little cakes with a hint of lemon and a buttery crisp edge. Perfect with a cup of tea. I ate a few. 

As we in Canada, and in other places throughout the world, are encouraged to limit social contact, I find myself quite content to stay at home. I have plenty of projects, reading material, even housekeeping, to keep me busy for a long while. I'm thankful for modern communication - in addition to speaking with my mom, I Skyped with my daughter and little Iris. When Iris hears the skype call, she looks at the computer and when she hears Nana's voice she hoots and waves her arms like a windmill, and smiles such lovely toothless wide grins.

"Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable,
if anything is excellent or praiseworthy, think about such things."
Philippians 4:8

Those blossoms are so, so beautiful. I took that photo with my phone while playing with my grandchildren on Wednesday afternoon in their back yard. 

There is plenty of advice out there these days on how to stay healthy and how to practice "social distancing". I think we also need strategies on staying calm. Here are some things that I'm doing or not doing.

* I'm not watching the news constantly. Once or twice a day is plenty. 

* When I do feel anxious or stressed (like when I come home from school) I make a cup of tea and sit and read a book for a few minutes. I call it escape therapy and it works wonders for me. 

* Find the beauty. Anne Frank says, "I don't think of all the misery, but of the beauty that remains." Clouds scudding across the sky, a single flower, a smile on the face of someone you love, artfully crafted phrases in a book - beauty exists in a thousand places.

*As a person of faith, I pray, and I entrust my day to God. 

* Treat myself just a little - take time for a face mask or a self-manicure, make a cup of tea and eat a cookie (or a Madeleine), use some of that precious fabric I've been saving, plan my spring wardrobe, watch a good movie.

* Practice kindness. Write a note to a friend and walk to the mailbox to post it. Check on neighbours who may be less mobile to ensure they have what they need. 

*Eat well, get enough sleep, go for walks or just get fresh air my garden. 

Stay well, my friends. 

A Sunday in March

In the late afternoon light of a sunny day in March there is a bit of warmth to enjoy, particularly if the wind stays away. The potted daffodils on my outside table are fully in bloom, and the hyacinths are just opening. 

I just didn't want to stay indoors on this mostly sunny day, so after some texting and some face to face chatting after church, three-quarters of our family (the other quarter lives on the mainland) made a quick plan to have lunch together and go for a hike to Witty's Lagoon. 

It's not a long trail, but it heads down alongside a stream, then beside a waterfall, down some more, and levels out to follow a meandering shoreline that indents deeply in places. We cross plenty of squishy muddy spots, some with boards laid across, others without. In a couple of places bridges of various sizes span creeks. We wind in and out of the forest that smells so fresh, and notice the tiny green leaves sprouting everywhere. The children race ahead, then stop to examine something fascinating and we pass them, then they run to catch up and pass us again. 

Once through the trees, the forest opens onto a short walk across the foreshore with its tall brown grasses and a few deciduous trees, to arrive at the sandy beach where the sea beckons the grandchildren to play. Sticks of all sizes and shapes are scattered for the picking, good for prodding, digging, and trailing through the water. Miraculously, no one got wet.

In spite of the sunshine, the air was chilly enough that we were all glad for jackets, mittens, and hats.

While the children played, the adults stood around and chatted. Driftwood lies all along every beach on our shores, tossed up by the storms from the Pacific. I find it endlessly fascinating. Carved by time and water, driftwood comes in a myriad of sizes and shapes. 

Back into the forest for our return trip. Native arbutus trees stretch over the water to create a shadowed canopy.

Sitting Lady Waterfall is best seen from a distance, across the lagoon. Now in the spring there is plenty of water, but that trickles to very little in the dry summer. 

European settlers once farmed in the area, but the only remaining evidence of that are the old fruit trees that bloom beautifully in the spring, and rotting fence posts. The earliest farm, Bilston Farm, established in 1851, was left to grow wild for some time before being purchased and converted into a modern farm where lavender thrives.

And so we head back through the forest, up alongside the waterfall, and arrive at the parking lot. The drive home is a mellow one, and our minds and bodies are glad for the fresh air and exercise.

Now it's evening. Did you enjoy the longer lighter evening? I did. Roast chicken for dinner, and now a quiet evening of reading, and getting this blog post finished. How was your first Sunday of Daylight Savings Time? Or does your area not change time?

Life with Books, Flowers, and Good Things to Eat

"She read books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live"
Annie Dillard

Many years ago I stayed in a home without books. None. Zero. Not one book visible anywhere. There was a single magazine in the living room, about car racing, I think. It struck me as surprising, and rather sad. Books add such richness to my life, and are present in every room except the bathrooms. 

Here books litter tabletops, fill shelves and baskets, and are continually moved from one spot to another. There is a stack of four beside Tim's reading chair, a selection on the coffee table that belongs to me, and a pile on the piano still to be read. 

A couple of years ago, while boating for two weeks, I lost my glasses over the edge. Plop. I watched them sink and my heart sank with them. Although Tim hadn't known the Annie Dillard quote above, he said, "I feel so sorry for you, for I know that for you, reading is like breathing." Indeed. 

My sourdough starter has been lounging in the back of the fridge since early January. It had a layer of hooch on it that I poured away before feeding and coddling the starter over a couple of days. It's bubbly and active now, and I made a batch of bread on the weekend. The texture is a little weird, as you can see, but the taste is wonderful. 

Books are a uniquely portable magic.
Stephen King: On Writing

 I took these photos of my bookshelves without any tidying up. I can see that they need to be organized, dusted, and neatly shelved. Perhaps a project for a rainy morning. The trouble is, I'd fall down the rabbit hole reading a snippet here and a snippet there, dustcloth discarded as I sit on the floor among piles of books. Best to allow a full day of organizing, then. 

In my previous post I mentioned the chocolate mousse I was planning to take to dinner with friends. I served it in teacups, with a strawberry sauce on top. Teacups proved to be the perfect size for a serving. In the garden, the mint is beginning to grow. You just can't keep mint down! I picked a few sprigs and tucked them in as a garnish. Delicious to nibble on, too. 

Where is human nature so weak as in a bookstore?
Henry Ward Beecher

On top of the piano I keep two stacks of books - one for the library books, and one for books borrowed from others, or my own that I want to get to soon, or books that I'm currently reading. Some books are devoured in an afternoon or evening as I rush to the end of an exciting story. Other books are savoured chapter by chapter. I read a little, then go off and do something else while the words I've read settle into my soul. 

The tulips I brought home from the grocery store a week or more ago become more beautiful as they age. Translucent petals twist and turn so wildly, exposing the star at the heart of the flower. 

I'm off to school on this sunny morning. This afternoon I'll pick up two grandchildren and spend a couple of hours with them. They've come to think of Nutella and apples as Nana snack, and always ask for it. So we'll have some of that and maybe play some games. 

Books, flowers, good things to eat - what does your world hold lately?

Five Things Friday

We're gaining about 25 minutes more precious light each week just now as our earth tilts ever so gently towards the sun. On my walks I see burgeoning shoots and blossoms springing upwards and outwards. The photo above was taken a week or more ago, and most of the snowdrop blooms have ended. Taking their place are crocuses and daffodils. Life is irrepressible.

Even the trees are eager to show off. These creamy blossoms are on a tree outside the school and I couldn't resist snapping them while walking from one building to the other. 

Spring restlessness is setting in. I'm a little tired of my winter clothes, but still need the warmth and layers, so I'm being creative and finding new ways to wear them. I don't need new things, and I'm becoming ever more conscious of the effects of fast fashion on individual lives and on the environment. I'm shopping my closet rather than the mall. If I get organized and brave enough, I'll do a post about that. 

There is restlessness in the kitchen, too, with a desire for fresh flavours. I've been roaming through my cookbooks in search of inspiration there, too. Laura Calder is a Canadian cook/author whose recipes I find very appealing and doable. She used to be on television, but now I see her on Instagram. 

We're joining friends for dinner this weekend, and I've been asked to bring dessert. Tim voted for Chocolate Mousse, so that's what it will be. 

Last night for dinner I made a sort of stew with ground beef, onions, peppers, mushrooms, and tomatoes. It was rather blah. To accompany it I found this Skillet Cornbread recipe. It's a yummy one, with a mildly crunchy texture and a buttery flavour. The cornbread made up for the stew!

There is more than half of the cornbread remaining, so for tonight's dinner I'm planning to roast a large tray of vegetables - zucchini, onions, peppers, maybe eggplant or cabbage - then toss them all with feta cheese and olives. The bread will finish it off well. Simple and just the thing for a Friday night. 

Finally, I bought some tulips that are opening in exuberant free form style. They sit in the entrance hall and cheer my comings and goings.

The weekend is supposed to be sunny and I'm hoping to get out into the garden for a bit. There is clean up to do, and a few early seeds to plant. Dinner with friends on Saturday, and on Sunday I'm cooking dinner for 45 at church. I hope to do a little sewing and reading, as well. As always, we'll see what actually gets done! 

Stormy Sunday

The wind is tossing trees and shrubs mostly violently this afternoon. Rain pelts down. It's a good day to stay inside by the fire. We had to drive up Island earlier in the afternoon and within an hour of leaving home the sky showed blue patches and a rainbow arched over the mountains in the distance, giving us hope that the bad weather had passed. Alas, no. Still, we're warm and dry, and I have a big mug of tea alongside. 

Recent reads. The Marcia Willett books are easy and gentle reading. Entry Island was fascinating, alternating between Scotland in the early 19th century to the Magdalen Islands (also known as Iles de la Madeleine) in Canada in modern times. A murder combined with history and interesting characters made for a story that I stayed up late on Friday night to finish. 

Hannah Coulter is a wonderful story of a woman looking back on her life in Kentucky. It's a story of courage and wisdom, of mistakes made and lessons learned, and of intense love of the land where she lived. I'll be looking for more of Wendell Berry's stories. 

Death's Door has just been opened, so I have nothing to say about it quite yet, except that it was recommended by another blogger. 

I picked up a bundle of these pretty pink tulips on Friday. I love their colour and shape. 

My Valentine flowers are lasting and lasting. Against a rain-spattered window they are bright and cheerful. 

Pistachios. I recently read that just a few pistachios eaten before bed help with sleep. Apparently they contain more melatonin than almost any other food. I don't know whether they help with sleep or not, but I like them. They can be rather addicting and it's hard to stop at just a few. 

A new week begins. Hope it's a good one for you. 

Butchart Gardens and Family Day Weekend

On Thursday afternoon, when I left school, the sun was shining and I got the hankering to visit Butchart Gardens. It's a beautiful place even without the flowers. The lines of paths and trees and shrubs undulate through the landscape. It's a place of harmony and loveliness.


A couple of the earliest rhododendrons are just beginning to open, pink and pretty. 

Clumps of hellebores bloom so luxuriously that I think I'm going to show my own single hellebore this photo to encourage it to do as well. 

Here is a look at the famous rose garden, bare now, but the bones are there, and it won't be long until swaths of colour fill this view. 

Between January and March, the Blue Poppy Restaurant is converted into a Spring Prelude garden. Here, pots and pots of orchids show off their forms and colours; hyacinths, daffodils and irises fill the air with their scent, and it gives one hope for springtime outdoors. 

I admired this pot set among the greenery against the red fence panel. I'm always looking for ideas for my own garden. Inspiration abounds at Butchart. 

Spritely Siberian Irises fit so well with daffodils. Blue and yellow - a perfect match. 

On this Family Weekend (Monday is a holiday in our province), our Vancouver family came over. We got together with most of the local family, as well, although some were sick and stayed home. An Iris of another sort stayed with us and delighted us all with her smiles, giggles, and sheer happiness. I snapped this photo just before they left - she's wearing a sweet handknit sweater, a gift from her mother's sister's talented mother-in-law. 

This afternoon I did some laundry, sorted through the photos I took (over 100 - most of them of the baby :), and Tim and I went for a walk. A lovely way to spend a February holiday.