Sunset at the quay.....

This is our "other" quay in town, Victoria Quay, looking up along the Stamp River, to the sun going down behind the mountains, letting me know I am missing more spectacular West Coast sunsets, these long, late-summer evenings................Nice to see some color in the sky, at any rate, much as I long for the white sand, stretching all before, the lap of the waves tickling my feet, the smell of the air, so pungent and salty-sweet...........sigh. Must count my blessings, I know, I know:)

This is a view of my front yard, or part of it, as seen from my front porch. Lovely to have a wide stretch of green around me, not be cooped up cheek-by-jowl in the city somewhere. My sister's house is just across the street, nice and handy for popping back and forth. That's a potting bench on the right, being taken over by the ivy, and the wooden platform down below is usually planted with tubs of flowers, but I didnt get to it this year. It's just as well, it is too hot, 36 C here today, which must translate into TOO HOT Fahreinheit! Everything planted is withering anyway. Including my dogs, one of whom is the black lump by the front fence, inthe distance:)

Out back there is a steep hill down to a grassy area by the creek, also withered at this time of year but rushing wonderfully in winter, and part of the annual salmon migration. We have a resident bear who ambles up and down it, fishing, in season. The sound of rushing, living water does much to satisfy my soul. I have a bamboo fountain on my porch. We make do:)

Jeff, I should mention, has now completed his round of chemo, responding to it very well. He lost his hair but had very few side effects. He had a rather bearable time of it, compared to many, and we are grateful for that. The doctor, who is a marvellous human being, says he has done wonderfully and now can be maintained on one chemo session every three months for two years. Hopefully that will keep the lymphoma in check.

Mr. Dog, my elderly wolf companion, is having a hard time of it, between his thirteen year old hips giving out, a lame front leg, and the heat, trapped as he is in his thick wolfish fur. I took him for a swim at the lake the other night, for which he was joyously eager. He swam gratefully back and forth in dignified, elderly fashion, then did a half-roll in the grass for old times' sake.

But I had a time getting him up the ramp into the car after. He prefers to leap, and cant any longer. The will outstrips the body, tell me about it:) I need to ask the vet to be somewhat prepared, but cant seem to have that conversation for fear I will fall completely apart at saying the words out loud. I may have to write her a note.

It is wonderfully quiet here this evening, after a few days of providing respite to difficult kids so their mothers can survive another week upon the planet. How I love it when my space reverts to being my space again. Lovely long hours of quiet, the hum of the computer, the whirr of the fan.................it is so hot here the birds dont sing, they hide till evening or early morning, when the temperature becomes something that sustains life once again. Two hours or more to go, by my calculation.

Blessings to all beings everywhere. My thoughts are with those in Pakistan right now......

My Grandmother's Garden

364 Christleton Avenue

My grandmother's garden,

round the modest little house

she lived her life in,

on Christleton Avenue

in 1950's Kelowna,

had wisteria and mimosa

and pinks,

pungent in the

slow decline of evening,

and bachelor buttons,

forsythia

and roses,

roses covering the arched trellis

above the gate

I used to swing on

through the slow,

sultry summer afternoons,

everything blooming

in all the summer gardens.

In the morning

the sound of water

hitting the side of the house

woke me

as grandma

hosed everything down

before the day got hot,

and lowered the canvas awnings

like sleepy eyelids

over the windows

at the front of

the little house.

In memory,

at my grandma's,

it is always summer,

mornings scented with

fresh lake breezes

and dry grasses,

bathing suits strung out

on the line

just waiting to be

pulled down again

for the next swim.....

all the childhood pleasures

live at grandma's

in my memory,

how we would sit

smiling at each other

in her back porch

listening to the thunder

rolling in the afternoons,

the smell right after,

just as the rain started

hitting the thirsty earth

Once I swam in the lake

during an afternoon storm,

metallic scent, strange silences

the world gun-metal gray

Some mornings

I'd swing in the hammock

under the weeping willow,

behind it

hollyhocks and

sweet peas

climbed wooden stakes

and string

back where

my grandpa

parked his car.

He'd come home for lunch,

gruff,

but with a kind twinkle

in his eye

and give me a dime for

the ice cream truck

when it came

Saskatoon berries bunched

beside the house -

the ladies at afternoon tea,

in hats and gloves,

all from the prairies,

ate jam mixed with memories

from the ripened fruit

In those days

there was no bridge

across the lake

When we went on a trip

my dad said

a ferry

would take us across

I was disappointed

with the big white boat

I had been expecting

a small magical being

with beating wings

and made my father smile

My grandma saved my life

when I was a child

and she did it

in the simplest way she knew:

by keeping house,

by tending her garden,

the same day after day,

routine and safe,

showing me,

child from a different world

of drink and poverty,

another way

that a life

could be.

Those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer....

Caleb, "Mr. Sunshine", on Wickanninish Beach

This was such a great day! I had just returned to the West Coast, after a snowbound winter in Kitimat, and was staying with Lisa in Ucluelet until I could find a place to rent. She and her four kids, her little Yorkie, Hope, my big old wolf-dog Pup, and I spent the day at the beach. Above, Ali and Caleb and Pup wrangle over some kelp.

Pup wins. The little globby blur in front is not kelp, it is little Hope. People walking by on the beach stopped to laugh at the sight of such disparately-sized critters playing happily together. Pup could have made a snack of Hope, had he chosen to.

Josh and Pup - more kelp :)

Caleb, Hope and Pup

Tyler running on the shore

This is my favorite picture of Lisa and her kids, when they were younger. You cant see Hope, but she is sitting on Lisa's lap. Poor Hope was hit by a truck and died some months after this was taken. We still miss her. It took some time, looking at this photo, before we became aware of a rounded shape on the left over Tyler's shoulder, with two glowing eyes looking eerily out. It is PUP! Hilarious!!!!!!

Those were happy days. Days of childhood and summer, so swiftly gone.