My take on the Olympics

Like many Canadians, we've just spent the last seventeen days buzzing about the Winter Olympics, catching the skiing events, cheering the figure skaters and speed track hopefuls, getting up at stupid hours to watch curling and hockey.

Aside from the sheer excitement of double Canadian gold in curling and hockey, we enjoyed the look behind the icy veneer that we have come to think of as Russia. Sochi has helped redefine Russia and her people .. in our minds and hopefully in the minds of the millions of others who watched Russia host the world.  She was friendly and outgoing, the people were enthusiastically welcoming ...we were treated to an invitation to grandma's house ...  she chucked our cheeks and fed us borscht and sausage. Then just when we got really comfy toasting our toes in front of the fire, she opened more doors and showed us how centuries of experience have created regal refinement and art we might ourselves one day attain if we're creative enough; in her appreciation for the past, she showed zest for a future that promises even better.  We were dazzled with splendor and wrapped in homey quilts.

CBC did some pieces on Russia that really showed the quiet pride that most take in their country ... and it made me think of Canada and our people.  We are, most of us, proud of our national identity in the global community .. and yet, we don't make a fuss about it.  Unless we're in a spot where its considered good form to make a fuss.  Congratulations to all of our athletes who've dedicated years to achieving the chance to be called an Olympian.  Go Canada!!

Back here in the real world, Mother Nature has shown us her quirky side.  Its as if she was as wild about the Winter Olympics as anyone else.  She's given us toboggan hills where we normally have flower beds and roads, sheets of ice that are normally sidewalks and a reason to put on a crockpot of stew and cuddle up with a good book.

For those of you I laughed at earlier this winter ... go ahead.  Its your turn now.  I'd also like to nominate my neighbor with the bobcat for a neighborhood hero award.  He deserves a pie.  I think I'll make him one .. once I can get to the grocery store for apples.

I love my city

Sometimes nature hands you the most unexpected delights .. this is shot from our own Departure Bay where the ferries dock.  Apparently, its been about 90 years since orcas have come right into the bay, normally preferring the waters outside of Protection Island.  It seems the pod of dolphins they are chasing were too much temptation .. kind of like carrot cupcakes with cream cheesing icing and sprinkles.  Hmm .. I may need to bake later today.

Which way to the beach?

These beach chairs seem a little forlorn as they await the proper season to be truly appreciated. The advent of spring has been put on hold with really cold temperatures for the island. Still, Mother Nature is a gal who's always ready for a party ... you can see the coral heather budding out in the bottom left of this picture.  Now, if we could only get Ms. Nature to clean her own room ...

Dad's Visit

Dad and Dorothy are on an airplane to Calgary as I write this, heading back to temperatures that make our -8°C seem positively balmy.  Dad passed along that it was -35° in Calgary last night.  The nice thing about the cool temperatures while they were here is that we were the beneficiaries of skies as blue and unclouded as those of Alberta winters.  It was positively bright!

We had a good visit and I'm pretty sure they'll be back when the entire island isn't in off-season.  We drove out to Parksville and trod the beach for a bit while Dorothy looked for pretty rocks and beach glass.  I was going to grab a picture of them as proof positive that Dad got that close to such a large body of water (the Salish Sea), but alas .. no power to the camera.

We drove up to Qualicum beach and wandered around town for a bit, stopping at Yesterday's Child Antiques, a store that puts most shops of that sort to shame.  It was just so well laid out .. and clean.  No having to blow off dust or pick the good stuff from the bad.  It was all nice quality.

We also spent a bit of time wandering around the studios in The Old School House, talking to artists and generally oohing and ahhinng.  Its amazing how much you learn simply from talking to people about their art and techniques.  I suspect Dad and Dorothy weren't as enthalled as I, but they looked at home chatting up the artists.

I purchased a couple of artcards of geometric cats from Audrey Perry before we went back out into the chill.

On Thursday morning, I ducked out of the house for my Thursday gym session with Paul and while I was out, Dorothy turned my kitchen into an amazing facsimile of a bakery.  By the end of day, we had four dozen cinnamon buns ready for the freezer.  They are indeed as delicious as they look and Dorothy even waived her usual raisin inclusion in favor of walnuts. Now that's a woman who's won my heart.  Raisins .. ptooey!

Dad and I spent a lot of time catching up on people who I used to know or go to school with; Dorothy seemed to know more than a smattering of the family history and extended family friends as Dad brought me up to date on people in his area.

Bruce remarked to me how happy Dad looks and I have to agree. Dorothy is good for him.  I approve. I'm afraid, however, that she may have set precedent ...  any woman who bakes cinnamon buns in my kitchen is bound to get the thumbs up.  Perhaps she needs to return and do it again ... you know ... just so I can make sure that it really isn't just today's cinnamon high talking.

A Spring on my Step

Those plants outside my door have announced Spring .. maybe these plants are confused, but I'm just going to roll with their proclamation and take it as 'official.'  It smells like equal parts ambrosia, rainbows and fairy dust outside my door.  Yes, that good.

Maybe it's the water?

If there's a Hollywood producer out there on the search for a horror film location and wants weird ambiance from the trees, I'd like to submit my neighbours yards for candidacy.

I've heard the expression "swamp spruce" used to refer to particularly Charlie Brownish type of trees.  I'm not sure if it applies here .. these go beyond sparse-branches-but-sorta-redeemable-with-lights variety of tree .. these trees are the stuff you tell ghost stories to your kid brothers about.  Bring on the nightmares.