Monday Musings: A Walk to Tod Inlet

 

I went on a lot of extra walks last week.  On Wednesday I got to carry little Cora in a wrap on my front while walking with her older sister Iris and my youngest daughter. Walking with a 20-month-old is a lesson in curiosity. Rocks, plants, and mud puddles are all fascinating and require serious study before moving on. Especially mud puddles! 

On Thursday afternoon I walked with my eldest daughter and her daughter. Lots of talk about books and reading ensued. 

On Friday I walked with a friend on the loop around the airport - 10 km. Lots of talk about life, make-up, retirement, travel, and more. 

On Thursday morning I started out on a walk with a friend, but she was called away shortly after we started, so I carried on alone. The path to Tod Inlet is an easy one and follows a creek that feeds into the inlet. At this time of year it's full of water rushing noisily downwards over boulders and fallen logs in a  hurry to get to the ocean. 

The forest is a million shades of green with moss of all kinds covering trees, rocks, and dirt with softness. 

Here Copper Wire Moss (pohlia nutans) grows like patchy hair on a bald rock. 

I was completely alone at the Inlet and utter peace enveloped me. I watched a gull duck and splash through its morning ablutions. Two white sailboats turned slowly on their anchorages. A black crow cawed overhead and two pairs of Common Mergansers drifted aimlessly about the inlet. 

This inlet, now so quiet, was once the site of immense industry as Portland Cement was manufactured on what are now the grounds of nearby Butchart Gardens. Docks and loading facilities here at the inlet were the means of transporting the cement to market. All that's left are a few crumbling building foundations, and these cement pilings.

I love the lines of these pilings and the way they have weathered over the years. I take photos of them almost every time I come to the Inlet. They are an intersection of nature and human industry, and a reminder of how quickly nature reasserts itself when left alone. 

On shore many of these old pilings, never used, rest in long rows, becoming more and more covered by moss each season. Children clamber over them and walk along their length. This tree began as a small shoot between two of the pilings and as it grew more insistent with age, began shifting the angle of the pilings. In the battle between static and dynamic, dynamic wins every time. 

Fluffy seed pods will soon be replaced by tiny bright green leaves as the seasons cycle again. The tides ebb and flood, winter ends and spring appears. Walking in the natural world is life-affirming and restorative. As the world heaves in turmoil, creation steadies me. Soon it will be time to plant seeds and garden, then water and weed and harvest, and so we come round again, in the grace of God. 

For this week, there are more walks planned, but also other things - baking and sewing. Reading, too, and I will soon share the books that have kept me company recently. Have a wonderful week. Stay warm and cozy as I see there are many places with frigid temperatures just now. May you see the beauty of each day. 

Finding a New Normal

 

Last Thursday was my last day of classes and Friday I cleaned out my desk. There was a socially distanced morning tea where my colleagues said lovely things about me and had me in tears. There were flowers and gifts.

Gifts included a beautiful freshwater pearl bracelet (I got to choose it), along with a gift card for an afternoon tea outing once restrictions lift. I plan to take my daughters and daughter-in-law. I handed in my keys at the end of the day and that, of all things, made it final. I walked out of the school and felt a little bit lost and uncertain. 

My students also said goodbye. They want to know who will teach them Spanish next year. I don't know, but I assured them it would all be just fine. One young woman has struggled with anxiety for a number of years. For awhile, a couple of years ago, she could only attend my class - French, at the time. This year she is doing better and has been in my Spanish class. A few days before classes finished she brought me a gift - these handmade soaps. When I thanked her, I told her that I would give her a hug if it wasn't for Covid, and she impulsively stepped forward and hugged me. 

Another student is from Korea. She came back after class and spoke to me. Just before saying goodbye, she straightened up, put her hands by her sides, and gave a deep bow. I was honoured.

It's the memory of these students that will stay with me. They come and go from course to course, and I've had the privilege of contributing to their growth in very small ways. They've taught me how to be firm and fair, and merciful and encouraging. I will miss them. I chat with former students in the grocery store and the gas station. Surely, being a teacher is the very best job. 

On Saturday night Tim and I went out for dinner. Only households are permitted to sit together in restaurants just now, so it was just us. We walked along the water before dinner and the lights reflected in the still blackness like stars.

On Sunday there was a Zoom party with our children. While I opened a card, Tim went out to the garage and brought in a big, beautifully wrapped box, with a smaller gift on top. It was a serger, something I had talked about getting once I retired and had more time to sew. It's a lovely machine, and I've been watching Youtube videos about it and reading the manual.

I feel very spoiled and celebrated. Then, on Monday, I spent the day writing report cards. Down to earth again. They are finished now, and it's time to think about new routines. I'm not in a rush, but I do want to feel productive. I look forward to more time with family once restrictions lift. Until then I'll content myself with walks outside and Skype calls. 

In the meantime, there are books to read, projects to sew, and flowers to enjoy. Today was my first real day of retirement - Tim wants to work for a few more years - so I was home alone. I went for a short walk, read, drank tea, and organized some things. Tell me, if you are retired, how did you find a new routine?

Five on a Sunny Friday

 

Outside my window today the sun is shining mightily. It's chilly, too, with a bit of early morning frost. Now, late in the afternoon the light is so welcome and energizing. I bought a handful of tulips recently and have enjoyed watching them open. As they matured petals dropped one by one until there were more on the table than on the flowers themselves. 

I am reading "Miss Benson's Beetle" by Rachel Joyce, and 
"Rising Strong" by Brene Brown. Two very different books that both address the issue of getting on with life after difficult experiences. I'm not very far into either book.

A recent weekend walk took us through woods so green and fresh with the sound of trickling water everywhere. Ferns and ivy flourish in this climate. The ivy is invasive, brought here by homesick English settlers in years past. In many places it chokes trees to death. Volunteers come and cut the ivy from the trees, and pull great long strands of it to discard. I still find it pretty, in spite of its destructiveness. 

Our walk took us to a small church surrounded by an old graveyard. I've written about this place before and the old headstones that speak of many who came from England, Scotland, and Ireland to make a new life in Canada, settled, and died here. Snowdrops are another plant brought from Europe and unlike the ivy, they are not invasive. Instead they bloom in gardens and cemeteries, and in far out-of-the-way places where homesick women planted them to remind them of home. 

A Downy Woodpecker visits our feeder from time to time. He prefers the suet to the sunflower seeds and his head swivels back and forth so quickly that it's hard to get a clear photo. 

Colder weather, and perhaps some snow is forecast for this weekend. I would love to see snow cover the ground for a week or so, but we'll just have to wait and see what happens. I have exams to mark and a few lessons to prepare for next week, so that, along with a little laundry and cleaning will keep me busy for the next couple of days. What have you planned for the weekend?

A Bit of Spontaneity Does the Soul Good

 

Late Sunday morning the sunshine streamed into the house, warming the living room, casting sharp shadows. It was just too beautiful to stay indoors. We packed up a quick lunch - crackers, cheese, pickles, cucumbers and red pepper strips, plus sliced apples and chocolate. We made a thermos of hot tea and off we went to French Beach, along the Strait of Juan de Fuca. 

The sunshine was mostly obscured by light fog and the wind off the water made us very glad for scarves and jackets and gloves. 

Our thermos of tea was most welcome, too. The thermos is old - Tim bought it in high school, but it's sturdy and works well, and accompanies us on most outings.

Along with a first aid kit, two small rectangles cut from an old blue camping sleeping mat are permanent residents in Tim's backpack. We placed them on one of the many driftwood logs tossed up onto the shore and sat ourselves down, protected from the damp cold. Comfort!

Our lunchtime entertainment was the spectacle of two gulls perched on a log in the heaving water. I almost got seasick watching them. Up and down they went. Sometimes the log disappeared entirely and sometimes the birds themselves were hidden by waves. Up and down, up and down. They drifted closer and closer to shore and finally alighted from the log just before it came ashore onto the rocky beach. 

The woods are wet after all the rain we've had, with many muddy sections on the trail. My eye was caught by the tiny crystal beads clinging to the delicate ferns. 

The beach was strewn with logs of all sizes, tangles of kelp and seaweed. This clutch of small rocks nestled in a driftwood log was placed there by the waves, perhaps for safekeeping.

On our way home we stopped at a place new to us - Sheringham Point Lighthouse. It's been deemed surplus by the government and was destined for demolition until a group of concerned citizens took it on as a preservation project. There is a small park and a short looping trail, as well as a trail down to the lighthouse. A wild and beautiful spot. The lighthouse keeper's house was demolished, but a volunteer told us that they have the original plans and hope to rebuild a replica one day. 

We arrived home not too long before dark, tired and oh, so happy for our hours in the outdoors. 

Suspended in mid-January

 

We're halfway through January. How has it been for you? I feel like I'm in a waiting room, but I don't know exactly what I'm waiting for. Or perhaps I'm waiting for a number of things - the end of the pandemic, retirement (2.5 weeks away), sunshine - things that I can do nothing to hurry along. At the same time, I'm content and go through my days with a smile on my face. I'm just drifting along, suspended on the current of time.

We've been walking most nights. We eat dinner, clean up, and Tim does email for an hour or two, then he gets up, opens the front door to check the weather, and suggests a walk. We've walked in some steady rain this week, squelching on muddy trails that are hard to see in the dark. A few times we've seen glittering stars shining through the trees. I sometimes dislike the idea of putting on raincoat, boots, and hat, but once I'm outside, it feels good to move and I return home feeling quite virtuous! 

Soft fairy lights still glow in the evenings here, creating comfort and coziness. I've finished three books this year so far, and began the fourth last night. The book most recently finished is "A Fifty-Year Silence" by Miranda Richmond Mouillot - "Love, war and a ruined house in France," in which she tells the true story of her grandparents, Jewish refugees from France. The story is like a puzzle that Miranda puts together, trying various pieces to see if they fit, without having a picture to go by. Fascinating.

Storm after storm has blown in across the Pacific bringing lots and lots of rain. On Tuesday night wind arrived, too, battering the house with loud gusts that woke us from a sound sleep. We did not lose power as our lines are underground, but others did. Because the ground is so saturated just now, many trees fell and damaged cars and houses. Today, all is calm and there are a few patches of blue sky that we must enjoy before the next storm arrives.

Tea-drinking, reading, stitching, and walking are about the extent of my activities beyond the daily routines of teaching and home-keeping. I'm thankful for technology so I can stay in contact with family. Tell me, how are you putting in these mid-January days? 

Five on Friday

 

Isn't this a striking male House Finch? We are seeing a good variety of birds around our feeder these days. They flutter in one at a time and then a colourful charm of finches perch on railings and rosebushes, awaiting their turn at the feeder. 

This is the first year Pine Siskins have visited the feeder. They are such scrappy things, beating their wings furiously when another bird gets too close, not wanting to share. On a recent cold morning, this particular Pine Siskin sat on the railing with his feathers fluffed while he waited. 

Our breakfast table looks out to where the feeders are. We have a ringside seat to bird antics. The table is an old one that belonged to Tim's mother, and to another family connection before that. 

Tim brought the two chairs home from the office many years ago and our youngest used them in her home. She painted them black and upholstered them in a beautiful rich gold and black pattern. She no longer needs them, so we took them. Over the Christmas break, Tim stripped, sanded, primed and painted them. I chose the colour and bought the upholstery fabric. He did the work. I'm so pleased with the way they turned out. They are very comfortable, too. 

"Food is for eating, and good food is to be enjoyed...
I think food is, actually, very beautiful in itself." Delia Smith

Salads are good any time of year and we eat a lot of them. With the sky-rocketing price of lettuce, I'm looking for alternatives for winter salads. Last night we enjoyed this one: English cucumber, quick pickled red onion, a jalapeno pepper (finely minced), a handful of roasted salted peanuts, and some parsley. Tossed with a little soy sauce and sesame oil, it made a delicious dish and I'm looking forward to finishing it for lunch. 

"You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough
to suit me." C. S. Lewis

January is Hot Tea Month (I don't know who decides these things...). Hot tea is served year round here, but it is especially enjoyable with my back to the fire on a rainy day. My eldest daughter gave me the mug for Christmas - isn't it pretty? It's a good size, too, and perfect for the first cup of the morning!

And so ends the first week of January. My, it's been eventful, hasn't it? Our restrictions have been extended for another month, which makes us all very sad, but we will hang in there.  School is still in session, so I'm not feeling too restricted, other than not being able to see my family. I'm so glad for technology that allows us to connect with our loved ones.

I'm sending wishes for a good weekend ahead to all of you. Treat yourself well. Be kind to others. 

Quiet Beginnings

 

A bouquet of pale pink roses for you on a grey morning. I brought these roses home from the grocery store a couple of days ago. After Christmas decor is put away I always feel like the house needs something fresh and pretty. We left up the mini lights on the mantel, and the paper star garland across the mirror. On January's dark nights it's lovely to sit in the glow of soft light. 

I like to do puzzles and this one was a pleasure from start to finish. Although 1000 pieces, it took us just 3 days to complete. I just loved the colours and all those needlecraft items. 

In the kitchen/breakfast room mini lights still shine each night. 

I normally enjoy the quiet and slower pace of January after the festivities of December, but this year, sigh, it just all seems to be more of the same. Dark nights, grey days, lots of rain, and nowhere to go. 

Each year around November I wish I had a Christmas quilt. By then, however, I'm busy with sewing pajamas or other gifts and there's no time for quilts. Because of the quiet break this year, I decided it was time to make a red and white quilt. I pulled all the scraps of Christmas fabrics and started cutting, then stitching. I made a lot of progress last week and am pleased with the way it's turning out. 

School began again this week and time at the sewing machine has been severely curtailed, although I make time for a little bit of stitching. 

Outside my window it's quiet and still just now, but there is a wild storm blowing in from the Pacific later this morning. Ferries have been preemptively cancelled after the 9 am sailing. 

How is your year beginning? Have you begun any new projects? 

The Turning of the Year

 

The turning of the year invites both looking back and looking ahead. The first is rooted in memory; the second in hope and intention. I have never indulged in much formal retrospection. I've never done a post highlighting the 10 most-read blog entries, nor do I find them interesting to read on others' blogs. Of course, I love memories, but that's different.

However, this year, more than most, seems to invite a little reflection. My, what a year it's been. None of us imagined the upheaval and turmoil of 2020. All years are uncertain, for we never really know what lies ahead. We make plans and most times, they come to fruition, or we change them. We live life with an illusion of control. Perhaps 2020 taught us that life is fragile and plans should be held lightly. We have seen incredible goodness and kindness in people, and conversely, incredible selfishness. The convulsions of this year brought home the importance of resilience, and of the need to be strong spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. It's been tough. We've wept. We've been anxious. We've ached with longing to hug our loved ones. We've faltered. 

Next year, 2021, will begin with the very same problems and turmoil as 2020 ended with: inequality, racism, selfishness, and the big one, Covid19. There is hope that the vaccine will help with the latter. But even those results will not be apparent for several months, at the earliest. 

So what do I hope for as we step into 2021? 

I hope that you will see the world with eyes of wonder and awe, and that you will find solace in knowing the promise of Christmas, Emmanuel - God with us, through the days and moments of 2021. I hope that you will soon be able to gather with those you love, that you will hug and kiss with joy and abandon, and laughter will echo from the walls of your home. I hope that you will create community and a sense of welcome as you walk about the world. I hope that you read books that make you cry and laugh and ponder life. Move more. Be well. Love with abandon. 

Between the Years

 

Outside my window all is grey and dull. A few chickadees flit about. Inside, I have a cup of tea (English Breakfast) to hand, and the tree lights twinkle. It's very quiet. 

I took few photos this Christmas, but wanted to document a few aspects of the quieter, different celebration. Our dessert on Christmas Eve is often a Buche de Noel - a chocolate version. This year I tried a white one, with vanilla cake, a thin layer of lemon curd and then tart raspberry filling all rolled up and covered with a white chocolate mousse. Candied orange slices and pomegranate arils added a festive touch. It was delicious, not-too-sweet, and refreshing.  

I confess that my bravery and determination to celebrate well with just the two of us failed me on Christmas morning after we had opened our lovely gifts. The hours ahead seemed dreadfully empty. So we went on a long walk - several hours in the fresh air, including a stop by our son's house for a short sidewalk visit. That cheered me up and by the time we returned home we were very hungry! The table for two is a good sum up of this Christmas. 

On Boxing Day we had a number of video calls with family and friends. Here is our family photo for the year. Such dearly loved faces. 

We're all agreed that we can meet for walks outside one family at a time. On Sunday I walked alongside Witty's Lagoon with our eldest daughter and her family. It was another grey day, with a teensy bit of drizzle. 

Tim was planning to join us, however, work interfered. I wish these Covid naysayers and rule-breakers knew of the efforts health care workers (including administrators and managers) put in to ensure the system works well under the weight of this virus. Of his 10 days of scheduled vacation, only two were free of conference calls, emails, and texts. 

On a dull day the forest is somber and dark, but everywhere is the sound of water. Sometimes it trickles in hidden rivulets, then it rushes over rocks and along the shore it laps quietly against the sand. 

Here we are on the cusp of another year. 

cusp: the dividing line between two very different things

During these in between days life is slow. We ate Christmas Day leftovers for a few meals and yesterday I made lasagna for the two of us with a shredded cabbage, carrot, and beet slaw, and some pan-roasted broccoli. Hearty and simple and very satisfying. 

Today I'm tidying a little, and I've sorted some fabrics for a red and white Christmas quilt. Every year, round about December, I wish I had a Christmas quilt, but it's too late by then. So I've decided that will be a project for now. 

Wishing you all quiet days of joy and love. How do you spend these days between the years?

Two More Sleeps

 

For a child, the few days before Christmas are fraught with excitement and anticipation. My brother and sister and I counted down the "sleeps" until the big day, and my own children did the same. As an adult, I count down via my list. Is everything done that needs doing? Now, just two sleeps before Christmas, everything is well in hand. 

The cookies are baked and plates of them delivered to driveways across town, with short, chilly visits at a good distance. Gifts are wrapped and delivered. Since we can't be together for Christmas this year, my daughter-in-law had the great idea that we could all exchange a food item that is "Christmassy." Hot crab dip, a savoury cheesecake, gluhwein and cardamom buns - doesn't it all sound delicious? For my part, I made Tim's mother's fruit salad, some chex mix, candied pecans, and plates of cookies. A mother can do a bit more, can't she?

Since it's just the two of us, we won't be using the dining room table for our meals, but sit by the window at our breakfast table. We'll watch the birds eating at the same time. I bought a piece of fabric and hemmed it to make a new tablecloth to gussy things up a little. 

The linen napkins are ironed smooth, softly folded, and stacked ready for use. As I ironed this little pile, I reflected on years when the pile was much higher. It will be again, God willing. 

A pearl bead garland encircles the dining room light fixture and from a certain angle, frames the wooden nativity set. On Christmas Eve we'll watch our church service on line. These past few days the sweet old Christmas carols have rung throughout the house as I cooked and wrapped. 

Tomorrow I'll do a quick tidy up of the house, and finish a few things in the kitchen, including a Buche de Noel. I normally make a chocolate one, but this year I'm doing one with vanilla cake, lemon curd and raspberries. Plus lots of whipped cream. 

On Christmas Day we will open stockings, then have breakfast and read the Nativity story from Luke, and open other gifts. Perhaps a long walk will follow, then dinner à deux, perhaps a movie and reading. There will be texts and phone calls and a lovely sense of contentment and joy. Different, but still celebratory. 

I wish all of my readers a wonderful celebration of Christ's birth and much joy. Merry Christmas!

It's Almost Christmas!

 

Sunday afternoon and dusk is falling. The tree lights cast a soft glow in the quickly darkening room. Soon it will be time to draw the curtains and turn on more lights. Then I'll think about a light supper. 

My husband is ostensibly on vacation until after Christmas. However, he's been on the phone dealing with some health facility staffing issues related to the pandemic, and the weekend has not been very restful. Hopefully the next few days will be easier. 

I love setting a tea tray and carrying it into the living room for my husband and I to enjoy in the afternoon or evening. I usually just serve the teacup and saucer, but a tray makes everything just a wee bit more special. 

I'm so enjoying all the lights and decorations around the house just now. The little scene above was created for our grandchildren a few years ago. Most of them won't be able to play with it this year, but over the weekend young Iris came over to give her parents a break. I had so much fun introducing her to the three little mice and one hedgehog and their houses and toys. I must look for one more woodland creature to represent Cora in this scene. I've not spent a lot of time in stores just looking at things. 

The birds visiting our garden are so plentiful just now. I watch them alight and lift off as I work in the kitchen. Over the days of Christmas I do want to eat well, but I don't want to spend much time preparing. It's different when there's a crew of us pulling a big dinner together and there's lots of visiting while working. So I've made the turkey dressing and a braised cabbage dish and have them ready in the freezer. This afternoon I made 7 half-pints of cranberry sauce. The sweet potato dish can be done ahead, leaving not much to prepare for our dinner for two. 

On Christmas Eve we traditionally have a dish from Ecuador - ceviche - a sort of shrimp cocktail. I've prepared the sauce for it, and will share some with our son, who also enjoys it. Our eldest daughter is making some on the other side of town and will share it with her sister there. The children-in-law are not as fond of the dish as we are. 

Our weather continues wet and mild, although there is a drying trend towards mid-week. Not really any chance of snow, which I always long for. Instead, we have roses forming buds. 

The baking is done, most of the presents are wrapped, and I'm enjoying the last bits and pieces of Christmas preparations. There will be a house-cleaning this week, some more babysitting, and some arranging of gifts and food. All lovely, puttery delights that I so enjoy. I've crossed some items off my list as unimportant at this stage. Such a freeing gesture!

I wish you gentle moments of joy these days before Christmas. If you're feeling frazzled, make a tray of tea and a treat, and cross something off your list, too!

Linking with No Place Like Home hosted by Sandi. 

PS

One commenter from my last post asked for the scone recipe. Here it is, an easy-to-make recipe from Jean Pare, who published an extensive series of books in the 1980s. This recipe is from Muffins and More.

Rich Scones

2 cups all-purpose flour (450 ml)

½ cup white sugar (125 ml)

1 Tablespoon baking powder (15 ml)

½ teaspoon salt (2 ml)

½ cup butter, cool (125 ml)

1 egg

2/3 cup milk (150 ml)

 

Additional milk or cream for brushing tops

Granulated sugar for sprinkling

 

Mix flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in mixing bowl. Cut in butter until crumbly. 

Beat egg with fork in small bowl; add milk. Pour into dry ingredients and stir to make a soft dough. Do not overmix. Pat into two 6-inch (15cm) rounds. Place on parchment lined baking sheet. 

Brush tops with milk. Sprinkle with sugar. Score each circle into 6 pie-shaped wedges. Bake at 425 F (220 C) for 15 minutes until golden brown. Split and butter, or serve with strawberry jam or preserves, and whipped cream.