Saturday, July 07, 2007

The Phone Rings...

And it is Husband, who is on his way home after picking up the paper.

I am bent over the bathtub, scrubbing out the animal carrier in preparation for Miss Callie's visit to the Vet on Monday.

Interesting cloud formation, - says Husband. Translated that means, it would be nice if you could find the camera, drop what you are doing and not only enjoy, but record.

A request like that seduces me every time. They WERE interesting clouds, like large puffy pillows, stacked together. In another interpretation they could almost be imagined as alien transportation!

But I am sure there is a scientific explanation
, and perhaps I will google it later.

As I finished the picture taking project #3 Son was coming across the meadow with a clutch of sma
ll eggs in one hand, - a most welcome gift - and he had also been admiring the strange white cloud formations against the blue, blue July sky.

A hot one today, but as I put the eggs away, with greedy anticipation, the phone rang again. It was Husband once more, with an invitation to go driving where the breeze was cool.

We trundled down the road to Cawston, and around by Kobou Park, - a destination which alw
ays pleases us for any number of reasons.

At the time of the B.C. Centennial the committee which Husband chaired took upon themselves the task of creating a park by the river. This involved transforming a negle
cted wilderness and a lot of volunteer work. For many years the park was used as a playground for children, a picnic area, and for hundreds of ball games on the two diamonds that were built.

Eventually baseball became somewhat passe (passing through
a phase of unpopularity, I guess). The ball diamonds lay neglected on hot summer evenings, and the nasty Insurance Requirements made use of the park almost impossible.

Until a new gener
ation of young people saw the need for the park. With wonderful cooperation and eager enthusiasm, plus a lot of hard work, they have
created a beautiful new area of memorial trees, green grass, a playing field, and a fine playground with bright new equipment for the litt
le ones.

Many of the original park builders, (many of them Veterans from the newly planted orchards on the benchland) are no longer with us, but so
me of those who are worked hard along with the young people, especially in planting and promoting the memorial trees and the pretty flower bed that bids welcome.

The memorial trees
are for those who have left us, and have been remembered by their families.

One special memorial plaque is in memory of Andrea MacDonald, a young mother who died, and to all mothers whose love sustains their children.

Just a small park in a tiny village, but to Husband and me it means a lot that it has been restored so beautifully by a new generation of young parents and grandparents.

I am off now to deadhead the pot marigolds and the chamomile in the cool of the evening shade.

And I think of my sister, who today is with her family, celebrating her 77th birthday, on the 7th day of the 7th month of the 7th year of the century. Happy Birthday love. Good Fortune!

Friday, July 06, 2007

Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not. Emerson

Husband and I have been traveling the last couple of days, - medica
l traveling, which seems to be the sum and substance of our adventures out of the valley these days (these months, these years!!!)

Nevertheless, whatever the reasons for going there are back roads t
o wander while getting there, and that makes everything worth while.

It was early afternoon when we left the Oliver Hospital. I have never been partial to baking heat as experienced in the South Okanagan on really, really hot days, so was relieved and delighted when Husband took the high road through the narrow pass out of Oliver and on to the White Lake plateau.

It was too hot to stop and take pictures, but we wended our way leisurely along the
empty road, lone travelers enjoying the country we traveled through. Below us, on the Oliver/Osoyoos highway the tr
affic was crowded and stressful, and the Valley steamed!

We passed the Fairview turnoff, and noted the site of the old Fairview Mining Townsite. Not having the right kind of vehicle to travel the road that leads through the hills to Cawston we continued along the narrow pass that emerges into Willowbrook country.
The Ponderosa pines give way to open ranchland and roads that lead off to the south and waken memories of old timers who pioneered the first ranches. And of times that we have picnicked or cross country skied in the area.

Husband remembers the places where he delivered hay in his trucking days, and the friend who had a butcher shop, and the one who grew potatoes and was married to the sister of the wife of a good buddy.

Across the valley is the White Lake Observatory and its myriad towers that send out signals and decipher that ones that are picked up from space, but we do not come close to it unless we turn right towards Penticton. However, the dry alkaline lakes that lend it their name are not too far off the road.

We have had a little trip down memory lane before we come to the bend in the road that takes us through Twin Lake country. We comment on size of the houses that now surround the lake, and compare the lakes with memories from years gone by.

Well, a little before our time.........

As we descend into the valley that will take us home we pass the Twin Lakes Golf Club, of happy memory, and the emotions here are tinged with regret that golfing is not something we can do any more. We watch with envy the old timers who are out for Men's Night on a Thursday afternoon.

 The heat returns as we travel the valley bottom, and we are glad to get home to the two lucky animals who have spent the hours we have been away in the wonderfully cool atmosphere of an air conditioned house.

We collapse with a cool drink, and contemplate the return journey we must make on the morrow to return the monitors Husband is festooned with.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

The Evening Light and the Similkameen Hills

It is Friday evening, the last breath of June. The day has been a little cooler, and tonight there are clouds in the sky which temper the light from the setting sun and enhance the shadows on the Hills.

I go outside and take two or three pictures, and then come back into the house.

The clouds move, and over to the east, across Daly Bluffs, a faint rainbow draws me outside again.

I follow the sun to the north, to where the lower bench of the hill is illuminated. The shadows of the clouds continue to move, and change the pattern on the hillside.

Truly a splendid sight.

The showers move into the Cawston Basin, softening the vividness of the setting sun and casting a misty presence.

Full of a quiet and yet astounding beauty, - this Valley tugs at the heart and delights the senses.