Late this afternoon Charles and I went off to pick up the newspapers and take pictures of river and rock, trees and skies.

At the Sportsmen Garage, where the papers lie in wait for us, we took our first picture of the Talus Slides that are found on the mountains of the Similkameen. In this picture you can see the trails of the rocks which slip away from the tops of the hills and slide to the bottom where they form a rocky debris. When No. 2 son was in his teens he and a friend were recruited to help a research team studying the formation of the Talus slides.

On slides which are more or less stable there is some growth, - in the summer a green haze covers some slides, and in the autumn the growth turns red and gives a rosy cast to the slide.



These Talus slides are unique to this area, and you can find more information about them here.

We turned down a back road, admiring an orchard planted to pillar type trees, heavy with scarlet apples.



Across the bridge and meandering eastward down the riverbank, the low water sparkled in the sunlight, rippling over rocks that hug the bottom of the river bed when the river runs swift and high. Now there were people wading in the small pools and a fisherman casting from the edge of the water.





The water and trees are quiet and serene, and inviting on a hot afternoon.



A scout quail keeps watch on an old log while his charges scurry off the other end when we slow down, into the grass where they are hidden.



Westward from the bridge the road winds through ranch country until it comes to a great outcropping of multicoloured rock.



The river, the rocks, the sky and the warm afternoon, - we all say goodbye to August and will enjoy the crispness of September.





We came home to supper in the slow cooker, - another plus.

Two pictures, by request.

Here are the blankets that sit at the foot of our bed, - handwoven many years ago (thirty five or forty) and woven from pure wool. The wool was dyed with Rabbit Brush and Golden Rod,plants that naturally produce yellow, but with the use of mordants can achieve lovely greens and tans and browns.






Here are the two plants that were used to dye these old blankets. Both the Rabbit Brush and the Goldenrod grow profusely in this valley, and what fun I had collecting them when I was young and agile.



Goldenrod – All goldenrod will produce a beautiful bright yellow, but it is necessary to use a mordant to make the colour 'take'. The safest and easiest mordant to use is alum and tartaric acid (cream of tartar purchased from the grocery store). The alum must be purchased from a craft store, - drug store alum won't do the trick.

The yellow in the border of the blanket on the left was dyed with goldenrod, and I wish I could remember for sure what I used to obtain the brown but it was probably walnut hulls. When I had this blanket on the loom I was doing quite a bit of demonstrating and teaching, and the blanket grew longer and longer. When I eventually cut it from the loom it was (and still is) long enough to make two cot sized blankets. It is lovely and warm.



Rabbit brush also yields golden dyes. Climate, seasons and plant maturity factor into the colour any given dye plant will produce and this applies to Rabbit Brush particularly. This randomness in color is part of the excitement in dyeing. In this semi-desert country the amount of rainfall, or lack of it, will affect the depth of colour.

Mordants also affect dye colors. A mordant is usually a mineral salt such as alum, tin or copper which is added to a dye bath to assist the bonding between dye molecules and the protein fibers of sheep's wool'.

The blanket on the right was woven exclusively with wool dyed from Rabbit Brush and various mordants, - the addition of copper produces green, chrome and tin both brighten (chrome is toxic and requires the use of rubber gloves) and iron saddens the colours.

If you are interested in dyeing wool with natural plants here is a good place to start.

And Barb, here is a picture of the Sweet Autumn Clematis that grew in our old garden - it looks so delicate, but was strong and hardy and bloomed right until frost - even until November.

We were on the road again early this morning. The slight morning haze and the dry hillsides bespoke of fall and coming glories. I watched for signs of yellow rabbit brush, which at one time would have made my heart leap and my clippers click, as I gathered it to make a natural dye for wool. The blanket that sits on the chest at the bottom of the bed is handwoven with mellowed shades of rabbit brush from various mordants, - tin, iron, alum, copper and chrome. I caught just a small clump of yellow rabbit brush with the camera as the car went whizzing along.



We passed the waters of Yellow Lake, and those of the Skaha, glittering in the sunlight.





The campgrounds along the lake were full to overflowing. We passed people leaving them, heading for the last warm, lazy days at the beach. Along the highway serious contenders for the Ironman race which is to be held on Sunday were wheeling along the side of the road, familiarizing themselves with the long miles they will cycle on race day.



While Charles visited the optometrist I moved the car into the shade and had a lovely hour to sit and read Agatha Christie's "Come, Tell me How You Live". I can't remember who it was in Blogland who recommended this book but I am finding it wonderfully entertaining.

On the way home we climbed the hill out of Penticton and far off in the distance were five shades of hazy blue mountains, but I think I only caught three or four of them.



Definitely signs that Summer is slipping away, and this evening I went out into the garden and took pictures of the tangled wild Clematis and the apple trees, growing heavy and fragrant with the smell of ripe fruit.





There is a magic in September that awakens all kinds of energy and enthusiasm, and I can hardly wait....

Skywatch Friday

I opened my eyes tentatively this morning. Beyond the window the sky was pink, delicately pink.

It wasn't even six o'clock, and so my eyes closed lazily, but my mind said 'pink sky, pink sky'.....

And so I got up and here are the lovely pictures that were my reward.













The Sunflowers and I, nodding with wonderment at the early morning painters who make the dawn glow so beautifully...

For more lovely skies click the Skywatch label on the sidebar.

ABC Wednesday

F is for Fintry and for Fire

Fintry is an historical part of British Columbia which is now a beautiful Provincial Park on the west shores of Okanagan Lake, half way between Kelowna and Vernon.

Captain Thomas Shorts first settled on this delta, preempting in 1882 what was soon called "Shorts' Point" but unfortunately the Captain was more interested in transportation on the lake than in fulfilling the terms of the official agreement that required him to improve the land. He had a thriving business, transporting freight and passengers from Vernon to the Penticton, but the arrival of CPR sternwheelers in 1893 put Shorts out of business.

He sold the delta, and eventually it ended up in the hands of James Cameron Dun-Waters, who renamed the property "Fintry" after his home in Scotland.



From the "history of Fintry" comes this description of the "Laird of Fintry"...

"He was a fascinating man of contrasts. He was a frugal Scot but generous, too. He revered tradition but was both innovative and inventive. Dun-Waters was an aristocrat but often dressed so casually he'd be mistaken for a tramp. He was a gracious host, passionate about his beliefs and a stern but fair employer. He would accept nothing but the best in himself, his staff or his projects".

James Dun-Waters built a Manor House for his first wife, Alice, from the Granite cliffs located on the property.



In 1924 Dun-Waters decided to add an impressive trophy room to the house, containing a stone grotto built to showcase a Kodiak bear he had shot and had mounted. While construction was underway Alice died and a month and a half later this version of the Manor House burned to the stone foundations. It was immediately rebuilt on the same foundations, and Dun-Waters lived there for the rest of his life.

Before he died he sold Fintry for one dollar to an English philanthropic organization that 'sent orphans from the streets to the 'Colonies" where they could learn to be farmers and earn a living for themselves'.

Fintry Falls, located on the property, was of immense help to Dun-Waters, but it took his ingenious mind to capture the creek's power in a system of wood stave, wire wrapped pipes. The harnessed water made it possible for the Laird to have spray irrigation for orchards and gardens plus running water in houses and barns and hydro power to grind grain and run a sawmill. 'By tying a Pelton wheel into the system he generated electricity. He even had his own telephone network linking the main buildings'.



You can read more about Fintry Estates here and the pleasures it provides for campers, hikers, birdwatchers and nature lovers.

This summer the Park was in dire danger from a voracious wild forest Fire that ravaged Terrace Mountain during parts of July and August, but all evacuees are now back in their homes and the Fire has left these parts and sprung up in other areas of the Province.



ABC Wednesday has "F" stories from all over the world, and you can click here to enjoy them, thanks to Mrs. Nesbitt.

Now that I am no longer playing hymns or practicing church music I have been indulging myself by digging through baskets and boxes of old music and the memories that these old books arouse.

In 'The Lives of a Cell' Lewis Thomas has a chapter headed Autonomy, and he begins it with these words;

'Working a typewriter by touch, like riding a bicycles or strolling on a path, is best done by not giving it a glancing thought. Once you do, your fingers fumble and hit the wrong keys. To do things involving practiced skills you need to turn loose the systems of muscles and nerves responsible for each maneuver, place them on their own, and stay out of it'.

He goes on to speak of autonomy and the possibility of visceral organs being taught to do various things by the reward system, but this is not the theme I want to follow.

I am more interested in the idea of enduring skills, accomplished by teaching the muscles in various parts of the body to do certain things, and then leaving them to it.

Wonder of wonders - somehow they retain these skills throughout a lifetime. Everyone knows that once you learn to ride a bicycle you never forget, and I have found that once your fingers learn to play a piece of music that skill might grow a little rusty, but it never leaves.

Amongst the music I have unearthed is Beethoven's Pathetique, - music that I once played passably well, but today the score looks familiar, but slightly beyond one with all its accidentals and complex chords.



That is until you start to play.

If you are wise enough to let the fingers have their way they proceed with great confidence, but once you grow self conscious, or look too closely at the notes, you are lost. And when you are playing by memory and you hit a cliff and tumble off, then you must start again from the beginning so that the fingers can follow the progression of their memory.

Fascinating stuff.

I am just doing the first three pages so far, - start off with all those lovely chords, then the crescendo's and the sf's and the chromatic runs. At one time Caspar used to sit by the piano and listen to me play, but now, with his deafness, it must be all a cacophony of sound to him and he pads off into another room and comparative quietness. I tell him about Beethoven and his lack of hearing, and the wonderment of hearing the music in his mind, but Caspar, poor dear, pays me no mind.

Here is Glenn Gould Playing Part 1 of the Sonata...



I love the Gould performance, but the Horowitz is excellent too.

My fingers curl up and sigh, - they never had this marvelous dexterity to begin with!

SkyWatch Friday

Similkameen skies from the past.....



July 1st, 2007



The 17th of August, 2008. A lovely evening for skies, - here are two more from the same day.





There are all sorts of marvelous skies from all over the world, - hop on over to Skywatch Friday and treat yourself to some wonderful photos.

ABC Wednesday

E is for Eventide



To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love´s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise on your lips. Kahil Gibran

Such a beautiful time of the day, but so easily missed if you aren't paying attention to how the light gently changes, sometimes with a glow; sometimes with a softening of the air; gradually the night descends and there is quietness and peace as the light dims.
 
Aurelious Fedor Van Kregten (1881-1937)was a self taught Dutch painter. He was for a time a student of Anton Mauve, upon whom he modeled his style. There were seldom people in his paintings, - he loved landscapes and animals, mainly sheep and cows.

Here is how he interpreted Eventide.....



and in keeping with this lovely pastoral picture an excerpt from Thomas Gray's Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard...

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.

Keep your eye out for Eventide, - it is a daily show. A time of long shadows and hazy hills. A time to sit out on the verandah with a cup of coffee and meditate a little.....

And for more E's visit here
at ABC Wednesday, thanks to Mrs. Nesbitt.

"Let me enjoy
this late-summer day of my heart
while the leaves are still green
and I won't look so close
as to see that first tint
of pale yellow slowly creep in.
I will cease endless running
and then look to the sky
ask the sun to embrace me
and then hope she won't tell
of tomorrows less long than today.
Let me spend just this time
in the slow-cooling glow
of warm afternoon light
and I'd think
I will still have the strength
for just one more
last fling of my heart."
- John Bohrn, Late August


Up at the top of one of the scarlet maples a small twig turns yellow, tipped with crimson.

The large sunflowers host a bevy of small birds, feasting from a plate of seeds surrounded by fading petals.

In the orchard they are picking delicious sweet plums, the apples begin to colour and somewhere the pears start to ripen.

Twilight comes early, and morning dawns late. This morning I was drawn from my bed just after four o'clock, and was treated to a lovely pre-dawn sight of the thin crescent moon, with Venus, a jewel hanging beneath it.

I love September, but 'let me enjoy this late summer day of my heart, while leaves are still green.......' and the asters and sedum and mums slowly prepare to slide into their brilliant autumn splendour.

This and That

A fix-it weekend, and I have on occasion donned my GoFer hat, - and any other required accoutrements. (Runners are almost imperative)

A couple of weeks ago when someone asked me if I was still weaving, I had the gall to answer 'YES'...this in the face of a warp which has been hanging dejectedly for at least six months, waiting to be threaded and tied. I was abashed, and came home determined to get the warp ready for weaving. Which I did, and gained enthusiasm for my silk ribbon project all the while.

All was ready, and I put in the heading, and then a few rows of silk thread, but when I went to beat it down the whole warp slipped forward. Alas, the brake was out of commission... I could see what was wrong, but it was a matter for the Master Technician to deal with. When the cards fall thusly then I am no longer The Master Weaver, but just the Apprenticed GoFer.

A couple of years ago I posted the requirements for this position, and my advice to anyone who found themselves demoted to GoFer. A friend told me it was preferable to 'YouShould', but I'm not sure.

Anyway, between us we got the brake working on the loom, and I thought that might be the best time, within all the glory and praise and thanksgiving, to tell Charles about the washing machine leaking through the wall on to the bedroom rug....

This is a work still in progress, but it has advanced to the stage where the area under the washing machine has now been washed and polished, and all that remains is to push the machine back against the wall and hook up the various pipes and fittings.

Charles had to go to town this morning to pick up parts, and while there he went to see a traveling caravan of World War Two vehicles, and to talk to some of the men who were driving them.

Our daughter was there and took pictures...





And while Charles was away our granddaughter phoned from Nanton, Alberta. She was visiting the Air Museum
there, and talking to Veterans who were attending a special ceremony which involved the twinning of the Village of Nanton with the Village of Senantes, Oise, France.

You can read about the history of this Museum which honours all those associated with Bomber Command and those who participated in the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan on fields that dotted the Canadian prairies, by clicking the link above.



'The museum is the custodian of the Ian Bazalgette Memorial Lancaster that was Dedicated in 1990, to the memory of S/L Bazalgette VC who was born just 85 kilometres north of Nanton. S/L Bazalgette died near the Village of Senantes on August 4, 1944 in an attempt to save two of his injured crew members. He is buried in the village churchyard. '



A day that stirred poignant memories....

Supper time rolled around, and I'm here to tell you about one of the perks the GoFer enjoys. Depending upon the amount of energy expended, she/he is privileged to forego the usual dinner time meal and offer peanut butter and honey sandwiches instead. (The Master Technician's favourite!)

Sky Watch Friday - August 13th, 2009

Tonight we are having a wonderful, welcome rain. The blue hills show faintly through the mist, and if you listen carefully when you go out you will hear sweet breathing and contented sighs coming from the garden.

Last night, and the night before the evening show was enchanting.



Tuesday evening, 8.16 p.m.



Tuesday evening at 8.17



and Tuesday evening at 8.18

Just a preview to the fiery rolling clouds on Wednesday.



Wednesday at 8.12 p.m.



..at 8.14 p.m.



at 8.16 p.m. - and here's a bonus. Off to the north, a lovely quiet sky, watching all these fiery shenanigans with a certain serenity.



See wonderful skies from around the world at Sky Watch, by clicking here.

ABC Wednesday

D is for Dawn



The sweetest time of the day.

Dawn in the Similkameen August 5th, 2009 6:41 a.m.

For more delightful D's click here for Mrs. Nesbitt's ABC Wednesday.

This is the infamous 'barn flower' which every August creates a glorious riot in the front garden.

I don't know it by its elegant name - I originally bought a piece in the lost garden, tucked in a little jog on the southwest corner of the house where it could erupt in all its golden joyousness in a confined space.

Here, where it got plunked towards the back of the bed, it is a beacon and a bane, albeit a beautiful one.

My header picture is a close up of the flowers on this ten foot plant. It has long, dark green, sawtooth leaves and the stems are branched and flexible, - all the better to spread an umbrella over the surrounding daisies and lilies and roses.

Is it familiar to anyone? Or must I go on loving its great exuberance and just calling it 'the common barn flower'........