Scumbags

Sea Gulls Feasting

I was driving home from Parksville the other day and as I passed by French Creek I happened to glance over to see an extraordinary sight. Twelve million sea birds on the small beach behind the harbor. I pulled in to take a closer look.  As I drove in to the parking lot and looked the other way I saw something even more amazing. Right in the middle of the marina, where the fishing boats unload and the Lasqueti Island passenger ferry docks was a congregation of huge sea lions, about 8-10 of them. A few were swimming around but most were staying put in their group, rafting. I hurried home to collect spouse and camera and went back for a closer look.

Sea Lions in the harbor at French Creek

It is Pacific herring spawning season on the coast, aka lunch. Up and down the coast you will find these huge groups of sea birds and mammals, along with eagles and herons, feasting on the fish and roe. Between the chattering of the gulls and the barking of the sea lions the place was a mad house. I had only seen a sea lion in the wild once before, from a whale watching boat in Tofino. This was a HUGE thrill.

As I walked around the marina, watching them from different angles I noticed a sailboat motoring into the marina. I soon became aware that they (there were two guys on board) were a) traveling faster than they should be in the marina, and b) they were heading straight towards the group of sea lions in the water. Unlike a couple of other boats who had earlier left the marina traveling super slow and keeping well clear of these mammals, to my horror these guys kept on going, not reducing speed, deliberately targeting these huge creatures. At the very last minute the sea lions screamed and scrambled out of the way. They would have been hit, no doubt about it, and I wasn't even sure they had all made it to safety.  The two guys on the boat laughed uproariously, the ugly sound carrying through the marina and then they turned their boat around and headed to their dock.

Shame on them.

Bastards

What a Difference a Day Makes

Yes I know that I declared that spring had arrived earlier this month, but this time I really mean it.

Yesterday morning I got up early.  When I opened the door to the back garden. I noticed immediately the sounds coming from the trees in back of our house. Birds. Lots of them, with all kinds of whistles and chirps and cries and odd little noises. Sometime between yesterday and the day before, the birds have arrived and are staking territory and seeking mates. Later in the day I went for a long walk around the 'hood with camera, looking at paint colors on houses (still planning the exterior paint job this spring) as well as front yard landscaping ideas, and ended up looking more at robins and all kinds of other birds with names I don't know.

All this week the weather has been changing every half hour it seems. Clouds, sun, rain, snow, partly sunny, partly cloudy, rain showers, sun showers, frost, overcast, bright overcast - we must have as many words for winter weather in Qualicum Beach as the Inuit have for "snow". But today, even as the morning was cloudy and drizzling (another descriptive), after noon the sun came out and stayed out. On my way home from my walk I stood in the road and chatted with neighbors I hadn't spoken to since December; we've finally hatched ourselves from our houses. I ended the day in the backyard sitting in the sunshine reading my book.

The signs are all there. Spring.

And spring cleaning. I feel an urge to sweep the floor. Need to recline until the urge goes away.

Another Dennis

CAUTION

Cute Kitten Alert

Dennis

I'm not sure how it happens - one of those decisions that turns out to be an unexpected delight. You might call it exceeding expectations. That's Dennis.

We adopted Dennis from the Qualicum Cat Rescue a small not-for-profit place in town. It is run by a woman who has a long history of animal rescue, and having traveled to some of the most heart-breaking situations to help with the abandoned and suffering domestic animals, including New Orleans after Katrina. The storefront is a full pet food and supply store, some of the proceeds of which go to financing the cat rescue operation. On the first level of the building are the big shelves of pet food, along with other supplies. Interspersed throughout are big cat perching scratching posts.  Look closely and you will see adult cats cat-napping among the cat food shelves; they have the run of the place. There's also no fewer than 4 large dogs in the store, sprawled on the floor beside the cash register. Better watch your step.

There's one small room for the new intakes. Cat rescues, many brought in from abandoned situations  rest up, under observation, before being introduced to the rest of the residents. Upstairs is another room behind sliding glass doors. The Kitten Room. You can view the kittens through the glass but also, up to 3 people at a time can go inside and sit and handle the kittens. If you have reserved one, waiting until it is old enough to go home with you, you can go visit. Some, as Dennis was, came in with his Mother and the rest of his siblings, newborn. Others come in solo, or with a sibling - abandoned, they've been brought in from outside. Sometimes their mothers have been killed by cars or cougars, sometimes humans have dumped them by the side of the road. They are soon introduced to this nuthouse of kittens to socialize. When they are big enough, 1.5 kilos, they get their vet exam, shots and are spayed, before leaving for their new homes. The store appears to be a very popular work placement for young high school girls, so these little guys get a lot of attention. Apparently the woman who runs the place has found homes for over 1000 kittens in the years she's been operating.

I think Dennis has been very fortunate/spoiled all his life. As one of a family of newborns brought in early he always had his Mom, his brothers and sisters, a bunch of friends and humans to crawl all over. Now that he is in his forever home, he gets the best food, the best litter, a ton of attention from a couple of humans who adore him and dote on him. Whenever he feels like a nap, there's a warm lap somewhere in view to climb on. I have never had a cat like this. Dax was much more aloof, but the other side of that truth is I never had the time to pay that much attention to my cats in the past, until now, when time is what I have. He is a huge source of entertainment - we laugh and laugh both at his antics and our own. The sound of human baby talk in this house is truly bizarre.

Dennis is 7 months old now. We decided to go on a few road trips this spring so I went looking for a place to board him. There are a couple of cat boarding places nearby but looking online, I found a website for a woman who does cat sitting in our town. She will come to your house for an hour a day, feed them, play with them, make sure they're ok while you're gone. The cats can have a stay-cation while the owners are on vacation.

Well...not really "owners", After all it's dogs that have owners, cats have staff.

The Cat Lady came over yesterday for Dennis to interview her. Of course this being small town Vancouver Island during the visit we hear the life history, and it is extremely comforting to know that we are leaving the namesake of the God of Wine and Good Times, with what turns out to be a neighbor. She lives not far from us on acreage along the road I do my so-called runs on. I'm starting to think that everything I could possibly want in life is just down the road. Maureen has 6 cats living with her and has built this quite amazing outside cat "smoking room", her outdoor cat enclosure. I think you can trust your one and only in the care of anyone who builds something like this, don't you?

So now that that's arranged, we'll soon be off for a few days. Dennis will be Home Alone.

Wouldn't It Be Nice

I stayed up late the other night to watch the Grammy's. Yes I know they took place some time ago but it's only now that I just got around to seeing the recording on the PVR. Although I must say, even with fast forwarding past commercials and award show blather,  to only watch the performances,  it was still a considerable commitment of television watching time for me.

But worth it.

It turned out that a part of the show was devoted to the Beach Boys, who were billed on the show as being "reunited" for the first time in more years than we really want to remember.  This definitely got my attention, on a number of levels. 

The segment started out with a couple of contemporary bands doing Beach Boys covers. When the lead singer of Maroon 5 started to croon (no other word for it) those amazing teenage love lyrics of the song Surfer Girl, I thought, oh yes, this is their greatest song.  Memory time. It brought me way way back to a time of listening to the '45's of my friend's big sister Pat. Then off to my summers as a young girl at Minden,  camping in the tent outside the cottage with my cousins, flashlights lighting up the canvas walls, listening to tunes on the transistor radio of stations coming out of the dark from places like Michigan and Chicago and beyond, late at night.

Surfer Girl at the Grammy's was followed by another band covering Wouldn't It Be Nice. I was watching the singer closely to see if he was going to crack up at what I think are the most ironic lyrics ever - was he going to nail it or was he going to crack? Dum de dum "We could be marrieeed, and then we'd be happeee...Wouldn't it be nice..." I sing along to this song out loud and believe me, I can't do this with a straight face. What was Brian Wilson really thinking about when he wrote all this?

Back to the Grammy's, the "real" Beach Boys came on for the third and final song of the segment. The "reunion". Mike Love (who has never gone away), Al Jardine, Bruce Johnston who joined (I think) when Brian left, and Brian Wilson himself. There they all were, up in front of the Grammy world, singing Good Vibrations (not a favorite of mine) and when I saw them on the screen, oh my goodness, what a shock. I'll try to be delicate about this. Just let me say, I don't think I'm the only one who scares themselves when they look in the mirror.

Brian Wilson and Mike Love at the Grammy's 2012

Brian

What else is wrong with this picture of the 50th anniversary "reunion"? Who's missing? Two of the original brothers, Dennis and Carl, that's who.

Dennis Wilson, the drummer of the original Beach Boys, was my first crush (after Perry Mason, of course) as a young girl. When I was growing up, in Montreal Canada, California was Mecca. Everyone wanted to be here. As a wee teenybopper in the tent at Minden, with ear pressed to the transistor radio, the lure of sand, surf and California, as sung by the Beach Boys, was a beacon. Cheryl Tiegs was the cover girl, not just literally on the magazines, but for the whole sunshine fable. And Dennis Wilson was beautiful.

Later, when I was sort of grown up (sort of), and living in Toronto, I used to go the Beach Boys concerts that used to arrive every year without fail, during the CNE, the Canadian National Exhibition - a typical staid Toronto name for a midway, with lights and noise and a bunch of rides and side shows, where all the teenagers used to go to hang out. A young girl with a blond boyfriend who bought her a ring at one of the kiosks, two hearts entwined, wrapped around the finger.  The first ring anyone had ever given her and she thought it was just fine. Of course the "gold" wore off within the week revealing the rough metal underneath that chaffed the skin, the metal turning skin blue. But believe me, those summer evenings at the EX it were all tremendously romantic, all those blond, teen hormones in play, and most especially when combined with the headliner show Beach Boys concerts - "Do you love me, do you, surfer girl?" and of course, "Wouldn't it be nice?". Well what other answer is there to lyrics like that? YES YES YES!!!

But even by then, the group was a touring band, doing the circuit, dining off the old hits. Mike Love, the lanky front man and lead singer was the constant over the years. Brian Wilson withdrew early to live at home in his bathrobe,  taking with him his song writing magic, and Dennis Wilson was sometimes there on tour and sometimes not.

The last time I saw Dennis Wilson was in the open air arena at the Ex. It was quite strange. He sang a solo without accompaniment, a cappela, under the summer night sky. The song was the Joe Cocker tune "You Are So Beautiful To Me". The audience was completely still - it was all about the voice. The minute his voice faded to the end of the song,  the first blast of the evening's fireworks began, lighting up the dark.

Dennis then stopped touring and I stopped going.

He died some years later, in 1983, at the age of 39. Drowned.

That event was, for me, one of those "where were you?" moments, like, where were you when Kennedy/King/Bobby/Lennon/Diana died. We were young and foolish in Jamaica at the time and our driver, Mr. Campbell, came into the house to tell me the news. "One of the Beach Boys died", he announced. "Which one?", I asked, although I knew without hearing the answer that it was Dennis. That happens a lot to me, and to others. Knowing. Before you know you know.

For the next three days I played the music. Loud. This coincided with the visit of my mother, a true classical music fan, so no doubt my California surfer musical tribute was not entirely music to her ears. I was in mourning and one thing my mother was very very good at, was knowing when to speak and when to hold it.

I don't know how this 50th anniversary tour will go for them. The music sings for itself and a reunion of the last men standing, as it were, to play it again on stage seems kind of silly to me. Yes I know that lots of bands from the era do this reunion things, but this is MY band I'm talking about. I'd rather keep it to the sounds and the memories.

But what do I know. Someone, somewhere, thinks they will be making money.

Carl Wilson, Dennis Wilson, Mike Love, Al Jardine, Brian Wilson

Dennis Wilson 1944-1983

Time Change

I woke up this morning at 8 to find it was 9. Robbed.

'When told the reason for Daylight Savings Time, the Native elder said "Only the government would believe that you could cut a foot off the top of a blanket, sew it on the bottom, and have a longer blanket. '

from Robert Peters

Bonus Day

 Leap year day yesterday. An extra day of winter. Although for those of us in the northern hemisphere, wouldn't we all rather have the extra day in July?

Truth is, I've been enjoying this winter in my new home. Back in the fall everyone was talking about the predictions for this winter to be a weather misery here on the west coast. Hasn't happened. We had a week of snow in January and that was it. I've also been waiting for all this gloom and rain people always mention when talking about Pacific Northwest winters. Well, first of all, if you want to live in a temperate rain forest, guess what, you need rain. And second, it's not at all bad and even when there is a rainy day, it rarely lasts the whole day, there is lots of clear sky.

Dennis helping. He has since been banned from the GreenHouse.

I've been paying a lot of attention to outside temperatures and daily weather patterns as I play in the GreenHouse. Every morning I take my coffee outside to check the min-max thermometers both outside and in the GreenHouse, recording everything. Keeping the temperature in there to my target range has not been easy and there is a lot of trial and error. I'm on my second heater, the first one lasted six weeks before its thermostat broke. Most mornings I linger in there, sometimes for an hour or two, checking on the plants, repotting, planting seeds, picking off aphids, watering, taking cuttings of fuchsia new growth, moving things around, adjusting lights, making notes, listening to tunes and, I will admit it, talking to the plants. It may be chilly outside, but inside that wonderful place I am warm and extremely happy.

Many afternoons have found me in The Bunkie studio "working" (playing) on the miniature theater. This winter I have been creating the actors and the Carnevale costumes. The gas fireplace heats the room and the space is cozy and inspiring. As I clip and glue and scratch my head trying to figure out how to do things, I listen to music or half watch concert DVD's or CSI reruns. Another week and I'll be finished this part of the project and will move on to something else, perhaps the woodworking of the theater stage itself. Eventually. Who knows when and how inspiration will strike again. This theater project has been in the dreaming stage since I commissioned the stage backdrop in Chiang Mai, Thailand, a couple of years ago. It feels good to have come to the time of actually putting it together. Here's a Sneak Preview - 4 of the 6 actors in front of Dusit's painting of the Rialto Bridge in Venice.

4 of the Carnevale actors - about 5-6 inches tall

Since I figured out how to dress properly (Who's the Doofus...) I have been loving the walks or hikes in the forests this winter. (What's the difference between a walk or a hike? Answer: One hour.) With the deciduous shrubs and trees bare, my focus is on the shapes of the forest now that easier to see the trees and I love to look all the greens (the colors man, the colors) of the mosses and ferns and evergreen leafed shrubs - and of course those huge cedars and firs. The cool air is refreshing and there are no people.

Speaking of which, I'm much more into flora and fauna these days than human beings. It's a whole new world, paying attention to things I never saw before. One day walking through "our" forest at the end of the road, we heard a very loud banging noise - a new sound, that turned out to be a red top woodpecker and two of his buddies. I'd seen evidence of them before - very distinctive rectangular holes in tree trunks - but to see one was new for me.

Pileated Woodpecker

Another January visitor to the backyard, a group of Varied Thrush stopping by to pick up some berries on the tree just over the fence:

Varied Thrush

It's March now and whatever the worst was, it's on it's way out. I've spent quite a lot of time in the Benjamin Moore store pouring over paint chips, trying to decide on colors for the outside of the house which needs repainting. I'm also looking at fabric swatches for the "redecoration" of the new boat. I rediscovered the Public Library which turns out to be a pretty lively place all things considered (could it have something to do with the fact that QBBC has the oldest population in Canada?) and spend hours at home stretched out on the couch in front of the fireplace reading mystery novels.

Hellebores

Road trips. We continue to explore. We've made a daring raid on Salt Spring Island to buy hellebores for the garden, a plant I was unaware of as they won't survive the cold winters of the East, arriving at Fraser's Nursery just in time for it to start pouring. We've hiked up the mountain trails behind Nanaimo in search of an elusive waterfall, and followed the signs along the dirt road to the Horne Lake Caves where the only person we saw was a maintenance worker (I did NOT go into caves). We hiked into a woods near the estuary of the Englishman River where the rushing water of centuries, millenium, eons, whatever, who knows how long, has carved big circular basins out of the granite. The only other people there on the huge rocks near the suspension bridge that day were a couple of guys along with a mother and baby smoking a joint. The guys that is, not the mother and baby. Everywhere we go we find amazing places and the air is so fresh it makes me yawn.

View of the Coast Mountains on the mainland from our waterfall mountain hike behind Nanaimo

Walks on the beach have been less frequent for no particular reason but one day in February the fog was so thick outside I could barely see the houses across our own street, so I grabbed my camera and headed for the beach. You couldn't see much beyond the shore birds close by the beach but the smell of the air and sea was amazing and the sight of the rest of the world vanished was magical.

Qualicum Beach February Fog Day 2012

Then today, I went for a long walk on the beach all the way around the bay where I came across this sight of these two hardy souls on the water. The days are getting most noticeably longer, there are buds on the trees, spring bulbs and early flowering shrubs are out. March 1st - I'm going to call it spring.

Qualicum Beach March 1, 2012

Basic Boating

The snow has vanished now and with it my complaining. Good thing on both counts.

It turned out that despite my vows not to go outside (other than to GreenHouse and Bunkie) during the week-long snowdays, I did.  I went to school.

Tuesday and Thursday nights found us at the local high school, a 3 minute drive away through The Horror. The occasion? The Canadian Power and Sail Squadron Basic Boating coarse. All in preparation for getting my Boat Operator license, which has become mandatory here since the time we last had a boat.

Yet another daydream during these wintery days. In a few months we'll be sailing in new waters.

The boat is a Nonsuch 26, a boat that Howard has had his eye on for a long time. He took possession of it at the end of September so we haven't been sailing yet, other than a couple of times with the guy who used to own it. It's been put to bed for the winter.

The acquisition of this boat was less a financial transaction (although it was) and more an adoption. The couple who sold it to us had it for 20 years or so and have been everywhere. They are now turning 80 and a few years ago "My crew mutinied" as Ed would say and he very reluctantly put it quietly up for sale. Irma had obviously come to terms with the end of her sailing life, but it was very much an end of an era for Ed, and one of those little reminders of mortality.

It took a few months and many conversations for the deal to be struck, but eventually the buyer and seller took a trip together to take it from its berth at Deep Bay down to Nanaimo for haul out, and by the end of the 8 hour trip, Ed finally decided to sell it to us.

Stevie & Mikey aka Steve & Mike

It's many years since we've been sailing. The Boys were little then and we used to spend weekends on the boat cruising the Thousand Islands on Lake Ontario, which were perfect with all the park islands, where instead of anchoring off, we could dock for the night to let those little legs go off running around on terra firma. My memories are of the evenings, when we'd read Swallows and Amazons out loud. Later, when The Little Boys were snug in their V berth, I'd be reading, listening to music and sipping Calvados - and to this day a sniff of that apple brandy transports me back to that time and place. As I recall, we never did finish that book so maybe I'll go find it somewhere and bring it to the new boat - along with the Calvados. A bit of nostalgia. The boat was a Kelt 7.6 and it was called Marney.

The (Little) Boys on Marney

Later, when we moved to Washington, we shipped the boat down and kept it on the Chesapeake at Solomons, Maryland at the mouth of the Patuxent River. That was an entirely different kind of sailing in an entirely different geography. Initially I was excited about the prospect of a longer sailing season but it was not to be. Yes we started the season earlier, getting great weekends in, in May and June but come July 1st it all came to a screeching halt. By then the jellyfish make their way up to that part of the bay so you can't swim, which is a real shame as at the same time the weather is stinking hot and there's no wind. The shoulder months of summer are better for sailing.

When I think of that time I remember two things in particular. Eating fresh crab and Vera.

The first sight of Vera's is astonishing. There you are making your way along St. Leonard's Creek in quiet, rural Maryland, past sailboats at anchor and green fields with grazing cows, all very bucolic. Then as you slowly round the bend, there in front of you is this huge, amazing white structure with turrets and minarets, a private home completely over the top. To the left is a small marina with a shocking pink restaurant up on the hill. After docking we climbed up to the restaurant, passing through a driveway and entryway lined with big pots of banana trees. Inside it was a Kon Tiki theme with bamboo walls and floor to ceiling statues and other memorabilia. Total eye candy.

Vera's Residence

Vera's White Sands Marina & Restaurant

Speaking of eye candy, the owner of all this fabulousness was Vera who would make grand appearances greeting her customers on her way to her usual seat at the bar where a martini automatically appeared and where she could survey her realm from her perch. She was a woman of a certain age, as they say, always dressed in colorful and sparkling caftans, and dripping, as they also say, in jewels - rings and necklaces and bracelets and tiaras. Lashes and lips, bright nail polish and long blond hair. She lived in the big white house with its taj mahal roof.

Vera

Vera with husband "Dr. Freeman" as she always called him

Her story is that she and her doctor husband used to live in California but retired to this property on the Chesapeake where they bought 800 acres for development. They were great travelers, which influenced their tastes and choice of decor and they collected a lot of statues and other pieces of art from all over, especially the South Pacific. Eventually they built a very exclusive marina where all the well-heeled glamor pusses of both sexes used to come in their yachts in summer. It was an era whose time eventually passed, but Vera was still there along with the very same decor, greeting the likes of us now.

I fell for Vera and said for a long time that I wanted to be her when I grew up. On several Halloweens I dressed up as Vera. I found out recently that even though she was pretty old back then when we were there she carried on like that until just a few years ago when she died at the age of 95.

Both the Kelt and the "new" Nonsuch type of sailboats are not that common on the west coast; they were built in Ontario and most are still east. If you look at the picture of the new boat at the top of this post, in the background at the next dock of this little mid-Island marina, under the orange covering is a Kelt 7.6, the same kind of boat we used to sail in way back when. Another one of those coincidences (?).

The same type of boat we used to have, at the next dock at our new marina

I wrote the boating test last week and am now the proud owner of the Pleasure Craft Operator Card. This time with no Little Boys to babysit, I'd like to learn more about sailing with this boat. Be less of a can opener and more of a sailor. I'm told the single mast design is easier to sail which suits me fine and may save my nails. Next week I'm back to school again, this time for the Maritime Radio Course to get my Restricted Operator's Certificate (Maritime). Off to learn my alpha, bravo, charlies.

A F%@*ING Winter Wonderland

Snowing again this morning. Even the fairies are snowed in.

When You Come to a Fork in the Road...Take It

On days when I am not doing the cardio walk/run thing, I'm off on what I call "taking the camera for a walk" walks, which turn out to be long strolls with many stops to take pictures of whatever catches my eye. When I leave the house I may have some destination in mind - through the forest, down to the beach perhaps  - but invariably I end up somewhere new, somewhere unexpected. I'll pass by a road I haven't seen before, make the turn, and the next thing I know, I'm looking at something extraordinary. I take a lot of pictures.

I'm taking a series of pictures of hidden backyard cottages and structures in the neighbourhood. This treehouse was a delightful surprise; from its perch it has a fantastic 180 view of the Strait. I want to live in it.

The other day I was exploring a new road down near the water and came across a short beach access path. Among the things I find so intriguing here on the Island, are these public access points, which turn up in the most unexpected places. When I spent those summers in Victoria at Royal Roads, I used to go for a walk every evening, usually around Cattle Point and the tony neighborhood of Uplands. Tucked away between the waterfront mansions are these little public beach access pathways - fantastic "I can have the same view as the rich folk" places and I explored them all.

On this particular day last Friday here in Qualicum Beach, I found a new road and a new access pathway and walked down to the low tide beach. No one was there except for a large black dog going for his own solitary stroll. Even cloudy and wintery, it was beautiful. Lots of sea birds, fresh air, a breathe deeply, soak it in kind of view.

A new road to the water

Public Beach access off the beaten path so to speak

The Beach in winter

My cell phone rang. My son, calling from Ottawa. We started talking and then he said, "Wait a minute, did you say you were on the beach?" "Yes I am and it's wonderful". "You are so annoying", he replied. "There's a blizzard going on here." "Well perhaps you should move to BC". "I'm working on it", he says. Whatever that means.

However if I was inclined to gloat, and I'm not saying that I am although it's tempting,  that all changed in a hurry. When I woke up on Sunday morning I pulled the drapes open to find...

The Horror, The Horror.

I loathe snow. I'm spending these snow days either in the GreenHouse where it's warm and beautiful, planting seeds and watering plants and dreaming of springtime or in The Bunkie studio where I'm costuming the actors for the Carnevale Theater. It's all good. It's snowing again today and I've announced that I'm not leaving the property until the snow melts, which should be in a few more days.

I see the news of winter mayhem in other parts of the continent, January snow and ice storms and weather that will persist for months. Here in coastal British Columbia, where the forecast is for this to melt by Saturday, I may just gloat after all.

1/2 Inch Scale

Urban landscapes from New York miniature artist Alan Wolfson in 1/2 inch=1 foot scale.

Much more to see at www.alanwolfson.net