ABC Wednesday
March 28th, 2012

K is the letter of the week.

I decided not to wander too far from home and to show you a little of the town we live in - Keremeos.

A nice, neat town nestled along the banks of the Similkameen in the shadow of K Mountain, Keremeos began as a Hudson's Bay Company trading post in 1860, and since it was first founded it has moved twice before it finally found a place to settle down.

Today the well preserved early 1900's buildings give the town a distinctive Old West feel.

With cattle ranching, hay ranging, fruit growing and vineyards the mainstays in the surrounding community in the summer you will be delighted to find the wineries open to tourists and the highway lined with fruit stands.

Coming into town from Penticton the first fruit stand you will see is one of the largest and I think the most attractive as our elder daughter did all the art work that distinguishes it and makes it known Canada wide amongst visitors.  It is announced by this sign peaking over the hill a mile or so from town.

Spanning the Similkameen River is the Red Bridge, one of only a handful of covered bridges remaining in North America.  It is a reminder of the time when the Great Northern Railway ran up the Similkameen River to Hedley and Princeton, - it is now a highway bridge to the Ashnola and the Cathedral Lakes Park.

I hardly know which picture to show you, - it is all so beautiful in the park.  The lakes are like exquisite jewels set amongst the granite of the mountains, and the hiking trails take you through a truly wild

Overlooking Keremeos, high above in the hills above the ranchland, are the Keremeos Columns, natural basalt columns nearly 100 feet high, extending for some distance along the face of a cliff northeast of the town.  Formed from thirty million year old volcanic activity the columns can't be seen from the main road, but one must seek permission from private landowners before hiking up to their splendour.

Here is a picture of Keremeos, taken from the columns....

Keremeos also has western Canada's oldest flour mill, and the only one remaining with most of its machinery intact.  Careful restoration has included the reconstruction of an operating water wheel and flume.  The mill was built in 1877 by Barrington Price and his store, with its 1894 wallpaper still in place is now an exhibit space full of intriguing hands on displays.

We also have rodeos, - the Chopaka  Rodeo on Easter Sunday, hosted by the 

Lower Similkameen First Nations

and the traditional May 24th rodeo hosted by the local Elks' Lodge and the Community

Great exciterment, - lots to do here, and it is a lovely Valley.  Do come and visit.....

For more wonderful K's click here and visit at ABC Wednesday, hosted by Mrs. Nesbitt and her Keen helpers.

Monday, March 26th, 2012

A little welcome rain this evening.  The smooth grey dome of the sky has broken into small patches of light, some darker clouds and in the valley drifts of mist and falling rain.  Somehow it is much less depressing and I am happy to see the sidewalks wet and glistening, and the little thin lawn we have in the front yard greening up quite nicely in the evening light.

Monday morning, and I was full of plans for the week.  Black bananas to fold into muffins, and  a nice quick hamburger soup that should last the week for lunches - early morning energy prompted me to get the soup and muffins made before coffee time, and after that an hour in the garden with my back turned resolutely on Charles' creative pruning of the cedar globe.  It fancies itself as a shrub, but Himself sees it as a tree!!!!   As long as he leaves lots of shelter for the little birds who hover and dive inside its sheltering branches.

After a small period after lunch with my toes up and my eyes closed I went to the post office to mail two diverse cards, - one in sympathy and the other a celebrity birthday wish.  On to the grocery store where I picked up a pot of brilliant reticulata Iris to take to my dear friend Joan, who lives now with Alzheimers.

It has been a while since I have visited her, and I have heard others say that she doesn't recognize them, but when I walked in and she saw me coming her eyes lit up and she raised her arms in welcome from the wheelchair she was in, and I was touched to know that I still lived in her mind and her memory.

We have been friends for over sixty years.  Joan is our younger daughter's Godmother, and she has been closer than a sister to me for all of the years I have known her.  It warms my heart that I can sit and hold her hand, and talk to her about our families, about things that happened in the early years when we were still young, and she can respond.  Sometimes I have to guess at what she is saying in her whispery voice, but always I can see the response in her eyes.

I ask myself why I cannot  take half an hour out of my day to go and sit with her and bring pleasure to us both...why do we let the small duties and the worrisome thoughts that fill our lives distract us from the most important moments we could spend in kindness and love?   I pray to be more mindful and less neglectful, and I write this here to imprint it on my heart as a reminder.

Friendship is always a sweet responsibility................

Kahil Gibran

A Leisurely Day..

We had a day in the garden yesterday, - blue skies blazing above us and signs of 'sex in the garden' all around us (I saw butterflies and bees, and the pussy willows with their velvety, silvery seeds turning golden as they prepare to spread their pollen,  not via the wind, but by insects that are attracted to their strongly scented nectar.  There is not much competition around for insect attention, so the early bird more or less gets the worm).

And the male catkins on the hazelnut trees, growing longer and more fertile, eager to impregnate the small bright red female catkins concealed in the buds of the tree.

Charles had the shears and the small snipers close by in the basket on his cart, and his eye on suckers and a tidy vision of well pruned shrubs and trees in his mind!!!!  There is no stopping the man.....

I dug out the grass which had grown up between the raised bed and the neighbour's fence, and prepared the ground to plant some of the heritage sweet pea seeds that have been part of our lives wherever we have lived, carried in small containers from the orchard where Charles grew up, and where his mother first planted them circa 1920.

Just above them I plan to have a Sweet Autumn Clematis to lend magic to the autumn garden.

I haven't had one of these beautiful clematis since we moved from 10th Avenue

Well, it all wore us out, and so we decided that today would be a day of leisure.

Charles fiddled around with a duet set of lights he is going to install in the computer room while I made oatmeal cookies.  They are supposed to be the product of a fabulous recipe that makes ten dozen cookies, but I have never been able to stretch them that far, - perhaps because we like our cookies larger or maybe because I taste too often....

While I was doing this my mind was very much on the map I have spread on the kitchen table, showing the location and names of the original veterans who first occupied the Fairview Heights Irrigation District on the Cawston Bench.  (It has just passed through my mind that I would like to recommend this venture to present day 'Occupiers' and maybe it would open their eyes to life's realities).


I have started at the north end of the project, studying a map that Charles made many years ago of the original and subsequent veterans (and sometimes non-veterans) and in a couple of cases veterans of the German Army....

I am making notes, dragging forth memories from the deepest recesses of my mind, consulting with Charles and with some our children and also with other old-timers from that era; and with the children of some of the original veterans who have stayed with the land.

Some of the memories make me wonder at the tenacity with which we faced many hardships,  and sometimes the memories of the parties and picnics and friendships we had bring smiles and great pleasure.

I don't think I can record all of our memories without turning the Fairview Heights blog into a gossipy rag but we do have fun recalling them. 

After lunch we had a little nap, that turned into a rather extended affair, but tomorrow is another day - Charles will find more branches to snip and I will get those sweet peas planted. and all the plants and trees will continue their passionate springtime affairs.

ABC Wednesday

J is this week's letter

This first day of spring, while March is still roaring around with wild winds, frantic clouds, snow flurries and showers, seems to be the time to contemplate JUNE gardens.

Hope you enjoy the sunshine and warm breeze and relax amongst the flowers of June.

For more wonderful J words visit here at ABC Wednesday where Mrs. Nesbitt and her Jolly crew maintain this great meme.

Saturday, March 17th, 2012

Hope you have had a lovely St. Patrick's Day

Old Man Winter came storming down from the hills during the night,

anxious that we do not mistake Spring's flirting ways with Reality!!

Nevertheless I cling to this quote by Adrienne Cook..

"St. Patrick's Day is an enchanted time - a day to begin

transforming winter's dreams into summer's magic!!!"

Are you with me?

Friday, March 16th, 2012

The Forsythia blooms in the window, and after a week of Mister March's grey skies, angry clouds and wild winds today was a day of pure indulgence.  Blue skies, soft white clouds, springtime warmth and a lovely stillness in the air. I raked more leaves, uncovered more bright green spears and knobs, and Charles tangled with the climbing roses as he cut back great long branches and brought order to small intricate forkings.

Of course we all know that this may only be a temporary reprieve, - there could be snow tomorrow in the high passes as Winter lays claim to the last few days the calendar grants him.  He could be only resting before a final onslaught, - but there, let's all be positive!

I popped around to the store this afternoon and stopped to chat with a colleague from the Secondary School Library.   Twenty years ago we worked together one summer adding data to the library software so that when school opened in the fall everything was up to date and digital.   Now, of course, we are both retired, and she had just returned from New Zealand where she spent a month on a large sheep farm.

I thought this was an absolutely marvelous way to spend a holiday!

It was shearing time and as we talked I remembered all the excitement when the itinerant shearer came for the day (or sometimes two or three days).

We have a DVD of family memories, and part of it is devoted to the farm and in particular to the sheep activity..  It was usually my job to skirt and tie the fleeces with paper string, but in the video Charles is doing this part of the operation and he does it quite elegantly and much faster than I ever did.

But then he didn't have his eye out for special fleeces to put aside for spinning, and that takes time and adds great pleasure to the task.

My friend tells me that fleeces are no longer tied, but rather when they have been skirted they are classed as to quality, folded and rolled and tossed into  relevant bins, where they are pressed down.  She has promised to bring me pictures and I will be terribly envious of her experience and will reminisce about that part of farming that really appealed to me most.........

ABC Wednesday
March 14th, 2012

And the letter this week is I


How about I is for Ianthe

John William Godward

Ianthe was as Cretan girl, so beautiful that when she died the Gods made

 purple flowers grow around her grave.

She was betrothed to Iphis, a woman raised as a man who also fell in love

with Ianthe and prayed to the gods to allow the two woman to marry.

She was changed by Isis into a man and became Ianthe's husband.

Here are three small poems by Walter Savage Landor, 1775-1864

Ianthe's Troubles

Your pleasures spring like daisies in the grass,

Cut down and up again as blithe as ever,

From you, Ianthe, little troubles pass

Like little ripples in a sunny river.

Ianthe's Question

Do you remember me? or are you proud?

Lightly advancing thro' her star-trimmed crowd.

Ianthe said, and look'd into my eyes

'A yes, a yes to both for Memory

Where you but once have been must ever be,

And at your voice Pride from his throne must rise'

Soon, O Ianthe! Life is O'er

Soon, O Ianthe! life is o'er,

And sooner beauty's heavenly smile:

Grant only (and I ask no more),

Let love remain that little while.

In reading about Ianthe I have come to the conclusion that her beauty was the muse for many men who used her name to describe the women they loved.   And I am also made aware of how ancient

 is the idea of 'gender-bending'.......

For more takes on the letter I visit here at Mrs. Nesbitt's ABC Wednesday,

an Ideal meme.

Sunday, March 12th, 2012

Another cloudy day, but as I glance out the window I see that the catkins on the hazelnut tree have grown about an inch longer. -not hanging limply, but seemingly fat and sassy and preparing to go into their sex act, spreading pollen far and wide.

Yesterday, as I raked the leaves from under the tree I found a few hazelnuts which must have been hiding in the fall, half buried in the thawing soil.  Gentle raking turned up lovely green spikes, probably daffodils, but some are fatter and not as far advanced, and I'm hoping they might be tulips.  Nice surprises all around when you don't know exactly what spring flowers flourish in the garden.

A big pruning project going on these days, - Charles does the branches he can reach and is the official mad master pruner, but Frank is not far behind him as I see what a dramatic job he has done on the tree in the front yard, (the pruning of which has been badly neglected in the last few years).  Mere amateurs freeze in horror as branch after branch is removed, but in the end it is quite apparent what these experienced pruners are seeing in their mind's eyes. as the trees or shrubs come alive with new wood and healthy leaves when we go deeper into spring and summer.

Late in the afternoon I went to the store for milk,  and came home with a nice roast of beef and a lovely pink Anthurium.....as well as the milk, of course.  I am easily distracted by the display of flowers and plants but try to keep on course when it comes to the grocery list.

Here is an update on the very slow growth on the Lenten Roses and the lovely spikey leaf buds on the Rowan tree.

It occurs to me that I should be posting these bits and pieces about the garden to the Garden Diary, which lies neglected since I finished the posts from the garden on the hill, - the one that is crying for attention!!!

Next time.......




We did the great Spring Forward to accommodate the Daylight Saving people last night, and by the time Midsummer Murders was over and we had moved the clocks forward it was shockingly late.  The idea of a little nap is very appealing at the moment........

Visiting the Garden on the Hill

It was only a short visit, - and very ambivalent.  On the one hand I was thrilled to be there and to see daffodils poking a couple of inches above the ground, but on the other hand my heart sank when I realized how much work awaited to get all that garden tidying done before spring came calling in earnest.

This is a picture of the garden at the beginning of March, last year.  

We had just had a flurry of snow, but it is indicative of 

the tons of debris that need to be cut down and hauled away, - alas!

In my haste to get things done this morning I remembered my gloves and my snippers, but I forgot the camera, or I would show you just how many suckers stand upright in the midst of the Philadelphia Orange;  just how overgrown the climbing roses are and how badly they need to be pruned and tamed;  just how sodden are the leaves that lie over the lily bed and the mess of old stalks that are entangled where the peonies are showing lovely scarlet tips coming through the soil.  Whilst the sweet pea vines,  -  a great heap of crisp, creamy pods and crinkled branches!!!

Eventually I got my mind around this dilemna which involves a lack of time and energy versus the pleasure of being in the garden again, and I decided that I need to hire an intrepid interim gardener for a few days.

I came home with a few budding sticks of forsythia, three bird feeders that had been left amongst the lushness of the garden and a small Chinese pergoda chime.  

Soon we will be enjoying the golden blooms.

For those who might be interested I saw no signs of activity at the Chinese Underground Railway Stations

but no doubt a few days of sunshine will fire up the engines again!

ABC Wednesday

The letter this week is H and I figure there is nothing better to describe H than Happiness.

Happiness is an inside job...William Arthur Ward

Happiness is not an ideal of reason,

but of imagination.   Immanuel Kant

There are some days when I think I am going

to die from an overdose

of satisfaction.   Salvador Dali

marielliott

Happiness is a conscious choice, not

an automatic response.  Mildred Barthel

The essence of philosophy is that a man should so live

that his happiness shall depend as little as possible

on external things.   Epictetus

Smile........ be Happy

Lots of other great stories about the letter H over here at

ABC Wednesday with thanks to Mrs. Nesbitt and her Happy Band of Helpers.

s

Two beautifully benign days, - warm and quiet, drawing us irresistibly out into the soft air.

We poked around, snipped here and there, - Charles did some serious pruning.  I found no bulbs poking through the sodden leaves and black earth, and a couple of inches down there was still a hard core of icy soil that awaits some heavy sunshine before it is pliable and soft in the hand.

Sid came to see us, bearing great long branches of pussy willow, - it was a little like bringing coals to Newcastle as the tree that nestles up against the garden shed finally made known its ancestry......

a gorgeous willow, flinging its pussy-willowed branches high into a blue summery sky

and the clouds, - so soft and promising

Today we were all psyched up to go to see the ophthalmologist, and then discovered our appointment was for next Monday instead, so we have another lovely day to spend in the back yard.

Callie is ecstatic, - she is not allowed in the front yard, not being a street-wise cat!

The Mountain Ash  (The Rowan Tree)

I have not been on intimate terms with the Mountain Ash, - I see them around town, and admire their cheery red berries, but not until we moved here in town have I been able to spend any time with them.

The snow keeps coming, intermittently.  We expect another few centimeters tonight but I think this is just a ruse on the part of spring, - she needs more time to burst forth in all her glory and so she dallies on the path, sending little March messages ahead of her to foil our expectations.

Nevertheless, when I was out in the garden the other day, examining each nook and cranny for bits of greenery or swelling buds, I came upon the Mountain Ash in the back garden, looking quite elegant, its bark displaying that lovely vibrant shade that speaks of rising sap and swelling buds.  There are two narrow, slim Rowans  - one at each end of the raspberry patch, but only one of them had these gorgeous pointy grey-green buds.....

Yesterday morning, when the snow was still on the ground and the trees carried it as garlands, just along

 the street was this lovely Mountain Ash, festooned with scarlet globes.

More snow tonight, says the weatherman, but spring is close enough that the buds will remain and continue to swell, until all is a tender green again.

I am so impatient!!!

ABC Wednesday

G is the letter this week

G is for Gryphon, or if you prefer, Griffin

A mythical creature, part Lion, part Eagle, a combination which imparts great strength, courage and kingship.

In Dante's Divine Comedy Beatrice meets Dante in Earthly Paradise and takes off into the Heavens to begin Dante's journey through paradise, seated on a flying Griffin that moves as fast as lightning.

St. John Mandeville wrote about them in his 14th century book of travels:

"In that country be many griffins, more plenty than in any other country.

Some men say that they have the body upward as an eagle and beneath as a lion,

and truly they say sooth,that they be of that shape.

But one griffin hath the body more great and is more strong than eight lions.

of such lions as be on this half,

and more great and stronger than an hundred eagles

such as we have amongst us.

For one griffen there will bea, flying to his nest, a great horse,

if he may find him at the point, or two oxen yoked together,,

as they go at the plough.

For he hath his talons so long and so large and great uipon his feet,

as though they were horns of great oxen or of bugles or of kine,

so that men make cups of them to drink of.

And of their ribs and of  the pens of their wings, men make bows,

full strong, to shoot with arrows and quarrels.

and OLIVER HERFORD. an American writer and illustrator, writes humorous verses about the Gryphon

It chanced that Allah, looking round,

when he had made his creatures, found

half of an Eagle and a pair

of extra Lion legs to spare.

So, hating waste, he took some glue

and made a Gryphon of the two........

This is about all I can tell you about the Gryphon, but over at Mrs. Nesbitt's ABC Wednesday you can find out lots more about the letter G.  Click here.  And Lewis Carroll has more to say about the Gryphon
and his friend the Mock Turtle, if you care to Google him.

Saturday, February 25th, 2012

Gathering up the ragged edges of winter we sallied forth yesterday morning.   There was a chilly wind, but the sun shone with some determination, and we stopped at the Senior's Centre for a cup of coffee and a look-see as to the condition of the Saturday morning bridge tables.  Did they need a spare?  Were there people hanging around looking for two more out of practice bridge players to make up a table???

There was only one vacant chair, and whoever was dummy was hopping around from table to table, filling in.  We had a cup of coffee.  Charles got into deep conversation with other drop-ins, so I went to take the place of the rotating dummy, feeling a little nervous as it has been many years since bridge was a steady and pleasurable part of our lives, and I did feel a little like a dummy, nervous and hoping that the others at the table were kind bridge players, - not the snippy types who make no bones about it and look down their nose when you bid inadequately, of trump your partner's Ace!  Oh, I have never done that......but it happened to Charles once.  Iris trumped his Ace, and he was such a sweet gentleman about it, - never blinked an eye..but it has gone down in history as one of our bridge stories!

All went well, and I enjoyed the game, but when we came home and were having a little conversation about who did what and why, etc. I began to think of the many Saturday nights we spent with friends, visiting, playing bridge and cementing the bonds of friendship.

A small dish of bridge mix in opposite corners of the table, a drink by your elbow, perhaps an ashtray close by, it being part of the time before smoking became such a dreadfully dirty habit and was instead a few moments of relaxation.

No stress.   Unhurried games, interspersed with friendly discussions, a few laughs, a few taut moments when it came to the opening bid, - they were wonderful times and we played bridge whenever we could, - Saturday nights, Sunday afternoons, impromptu get togethers - a few hands here, a few hands there - marvelous cheap entertainment.  Pickles and crab sandwiches waiting in the fridge for when we reluctantly put the cards away, but still replayed the most memorable hands of the evening and sat around talking, sometimes until the small hours of the morning.  And probably there was further pillow talk if the cut of the cards happened to present one with their spouse for a partner!!!

You know I'm livid, - you went to bed with an Ace

Eventually, as the children grew older and we grew busier, our entertainment grew more sophisticated and the bridge games happened less frequently, but at least once a month there was an invitation to "come to dinner, - I'll make a lemon pie for Charles and we'll play some bridge later".

Time passed, as it is so wont to do, and now we have lost many of those friends we played bridge with, to death or dementia, - we would be hard pressed to put together a foursome of old and dear friends for bridge now.

So we will go back to the Senior's Centre and play bridge with old acquaintances, and strangers, who will in the course of time become friends,  and life in town will continue to present all sorts of lovely surprises.

There is blue sky and sunshine this morning, - after a cup of coffee I think I will go out and pick some pussy willow branches and poke about to see if anybody planted daffodils in this lovely mini garden, and reminisce a little about days gone by and friends who live only in our memories.