Friday, June 22, 2018

The Wrack Zone, Part II




morning in the wrack zone
Today was the first day of the conference called the Wrack Zone.

This is an interdisciplinary conference: environment, archaeology, anthropology, English, law, etc.

Rebecca and I turned to the dictionary tonight to see exactly what “wrack” means.

Among many of its definitions is the one that pertains to the ocean.

a sandbar in the wrack zone
The wrack zone is that area between low and high tide, where often detritus, organic matter, and such collect.

sitting under a tree in the wrack zone
I told Rebecca that is the zone I have been walking in every day that I make it down to the beach.

And today was no different than other days.

I pick up my phone and take pictures of the same 500 metre walk again and again, each time focusing on something new, and wishing that I had my more sophisticated camera equipment with me.

But my phone will do.

I typed for a lot of the day.

I tried to catch notes from Rebecca’s presentation, as well as from the other people on her panel. 

Then in the BizAzz class, I took notes on how to run an Annual General Meeting.

I can just about do that off the top of my head, though I told Rebecca I am going to go to the AGM that will be held at this conference.

geese swimming just outside the wrack zone
A person can just never go to too many AGM’s.

I have been writing BizAzz, but not in that form, for the whole time I have been here: BissAss, etc.

Finally I saw it on a binder and asked how this came about. She said that a former teacher of Business Associations had used that moniker and that the class is generally not called that in other law schools.

Perhaps it is The Corporation, or Business Associations, but still it is the same thing.

Curious that in her class she spends some time having group work done.

We have had to start a corporation, issue shares, get a shareholder registry going, a director’s registry, have a stated capital account, financials, and today we ran an AGM.

She gives us about 5 minutes to do this, and of course we take another extension, since nothing can be done in five minutes though there is one group in the class who divide and conquer – each one taking ¼ of the assignment and then they put it all together as a whole.

Our group is not that streamlined yet.

a wave enters the wrack zone
The names of our business might give away how successful they will be.

I noticed that one group is called Magical Pet Supplies.

Ours is Second Time Around, Victoria Inc.

We are trading on broken dreams and promises, buying up wedding jewellery that people who are divorced no longer feel comfortable wearing.

So far we haven’t had one customer.

Arta

Wednesday, June 20, 2018

Another Trip to the Ocean

Arbutus Beach ... a small wave rolls into the shore
This morning I tried to get Rebecca to walk to the ocean with me.

Too tired she said.

 So I laid in bed with her for a few minutes, since she said “Tell me some stories,” and I always have stories to tell.

 My days are so lovely here.

 Now it is 10 pm and I hadn’t done my last 1,000 steps, so out I went into the warm night air. The moon was already high in the sky. A few other walkers were out. The joggers seems to fly by in the early morning, which is the time I choose to walk down to the cove again.

The ground is becoming marked with objects and waters: Coleman coolers and bunnies.
Arbutus Beach ... the tide goes out

Today I almost stepped on a tiny bunny that skittered its way back under the ivy that was growing out over the sidewalk.

I wondered if that rabbit knows how to miss going under thorny vines of the raspberry bush nearby.

Perhaps by sad experience.

A couple of days ago I saw a blue and white Coleman cooler at the head of the stairs that lead to the beach. I looked inside.

Water, but now wind had blown dirt and other debris into the cooler.

 I was wondering how it have filled with water, but on thinking about that again, of course, it must have been filled with ice for a party that someone was having on the grassy area by the parking log.
Arbutus Beach
Is this the stuff they are referring to when they saw Wrack Zone?

The first day I saw the cooler, I only looked inside.

It was just abandoned there, on the other side of the fence where there is a sign that says, No Dumping, By Order of the City of Sanich.

The second day I turned it over to drain it out. 

Today I found myself dragging it over by the garbage.

Every morning I see that people have stacked their empty pop and beer cans there for the garbage men to take away.

One day I saw a twin mattress laid against the side of the garbage.

 Not having any idea how and why that was used, I just put a pass on thinking about that anymore.
Arbutus Beach
The early morning sun hits the water.

Tomorrow morning I shall check and see if the blue Coleman cooler is still there as I walk to the beach.

I am of the mind to ask Rebecca to bring it home. I could wash it out and she could store her garden tools in it.

 But I am smart enough not to ask.

 She would say no even louder than Steve would.

Arta

9 Indigenous Reads for Children

I love my CBC.

I listen to it in the morning if I have a radio in my bedroom.

And look at this lovely list of books which I shall try to find at the library and read.

9 beautiful children's books by Indigenous authors to read

Last night I could't sleep at about midnight so I got up and began reading On Being Here to Stay  by Michael Asch.

I love this home.

There is a book to read within reaching distance.

Rebecca says she buys them only hoping to read every page and knowing that she will find her way through at least one chapter.

Arta

Tuesday, June 19, 2018

4 cones for $4.49

I have never seen this done before.   Rebecca stopped by the Dairy Queen, bought a pint of ice-cream for $4.49, came home, split it into four cones and delivered them to what became the happiest home in Victoria at that moment.

"I don't understand how she did this", Duncan said, not knowing how she got it home from the store.

I didn't understand why she did it.

Arta

Typing Text vs Taking Pictures

... the golden colour of the logs washed up on shore ...
I can never type enough text to keep up a good ratio for the pictures I take.

Today I have 10 pictures that I want to put on the blog, but I have no where near that energy to find the words that would be descriptive of why I am in such places, and looking at such different things. 

This morning Steve went up island.

At 8 am I went to go on my walk, but climbed in bed with Rebecca who was just putting out a mighty morning yawn. 

We thought our first job of the day should be to organize a task list, and with that idea, my idea of a walk vanished and the two of us headed out to school to make that list and to check off that list.

Yes, every time we can check off a box, we can add another line item to replace it.

 So our morning sped by, check, add, check, add, write email, receive email, be reminded of a meeting that is not in our planner, make plans to get to that meeting.
... the evening view of the cove above the cliffs ... 

One of the brightest parts of the day was tasting the grapes that Jess brought in for a 3 pm meeting.

Oh, so sweet, Rebecca raved, who likes grapes anyway.

I thought they were good, which is my word for excellent coming from a non-grape loving person.

Later in the day she was to find those grapes are the genetically modified grapes called Cotton Candy Grapes.

Oh, on tasting those, any grape-hater’s mind can be changed.
... the sun glints off of the bronze bark ...


I had to go back out to the car once we got to the university.
My job was to put our lunches in the fridge.

Not finding the lunch bag I had to check the back of the car.
No lunch bag there, so we defaulted to the dahl in the freezer and the bagels in the fridge.

Every professor needs a back-up for food, lest they leave their lunch at home.
... the picturesque arbutus at the head of the cover ...

And now, for the best part of the day.

Having missed my walk and looking at my fitbit I knew I had to put in 8,000 steps, beginning at 7:30 pm.

At that time of night the task seems daunting. 

But I think of my brother-in-law, Greg, who might go out for two walks in the day, each of an hour’s duration at least.

So out to Arbutus Cove I went again, thinking about its calm and tranquility as I put one foot ahead of another.
... a ripple of water dies at the shoreline ...

Once I got there, I found that my lovely little cove is a revolving door at night. I had no idea.

One man was doing the 4 flights of stairs down to and up from the beach, 4 times.

One couple was taking their picnic supper down to the cove.

Three teen-age girls were walking the upper paths along the top of the cove.

I could hear them chatting as they walked one way, and they were chatting at the same level of intensity on their way back

The dog walker was out, the one who owns a stunning golden large poodle that I see in the morning. 

A show dog.

But now it was not the woman who was walking the dog, but in the evening, a man.
.... foliage seen over the bannister of the stairs ...

Three people were swimming in the water.

 I wasn’t close enough to see them.

 A new visitor to the cove stopped to ask me the name of this place, remarking that he was surprised the water was warm enough to swim in.

 I still feel like a visitor myself, but I answer as though I am a long time resident.

 I didn’t think much of the three swimmers until they passed me as I was leaving the cove. 

Two men, one with snorkel equipment and the woman, I could only see from the back view.
... evening begins to fall ...

I didn’t avert my eyes, though I might have in a different life.

I haven’t ever seen that part of the human anatomy exposed, at least in an adult.

Now I was just amazed at the design of the bottoms of her attire, a thong at the bottom, going up to a triangle, the largest part of which seemed to wrap around her waist. 

Amazing.

The three of them jumped in a small car, so they must not live close enough to walk to the beach in the evening.


Rebecca is home now from driving some colleagues out to catch the 9 pm ferry.

Sometimes at night she plays Candy Crush to wind down.

... peeking through the underbrush to the cove below ...
At other times we play the two person version of the game of Lost Cities, which may wind her down, but only leaves me in soporific stupidity – how can I consistently loose so many games to her, given that she must be far more tired than I in the evenings.

It is been 30 degrees here today, just a bit too much heat for me.

There are no mosquitos it seems. I did see some fawn in a field, just a small rustle in the tall grasses was what let me know they were there.

a fellow traveller  using the stair bannister ...
A few baby rabbits hopped in front of me at the cove, but they are gone faster than I can unlock the keys on my phone to get to my camera. 

Alex did bring me into the great room here, the one that can hold a grand piano, exercise equipment, 3 computer stations and still have left over room in it.

 ... a triple ripple comes to the shoreline ...
 High up near the fireplace was a beautiful spider web, the sun glistening through its perfect symmetry. Alex pointed to it, wondering how long the spider has been at work there.

I wondered too.

Arta

Monday, June 18, 2018

The Itinerant Grandmother

Recipes for the Itinerant Grandmother
Chickpea and Potato Currry on the left
Basic Pizza Sauce on the right

When I was in Montreal I kept hearing about the wonderful lemon squares that Grandma Kathy Jarvis would make.

I finally said to Catherine one day, I am going to try to match those, for whatever I make, it always seems to be measured against the lemon squares which come in at a 10/10.

"Fine," said Catherine, "I will even give you her recipe."  So I tried the squares. Mine came in at an 11/10 for the kids, though I told them that would be impossible since it was the same recipe as she used.

However, I did write the recipe down on an empty page of my day timer in case I needed to make it again when I wasn’t in Montreal.

Fast forward to being at the lake in April and Doral was making guacamole, the best I have ever tasted. “How do you do this,” I asked. “Oh, mine is always so good for it is made with love,” he answered.

I don't believe in cooking with love. Still I took down the recipe and put it in the early part of my day timer, since now I was into June and it didn’t really matter what went onto the January pages. And so the days went on, me making a recipe or two and then putting it in the day timer in case I wanted to do it again. My day timer is my only constant anymore in my travels. That and my fitbit.

Index to Recipes
I have collected so many recipe that today I had to make an Index in the foremost pages of my day timer, so that I can easily find the recipes, which accumulate as I move from house to house.

At Rebecca’s I have been doing all kinds of breads: Russian Black Bread, Country Seed Bread, Cracked Wheat Bread.

And some of her law students wanted to know how to make bread, so they came to the house and we did a Basic White Bread and then turned it into cinnamon buns. I found myself cutting the recipe off of the back of the Roger’s 10 kilogram bag of flour and pasting it in my book, along with their almond orange muffins – not because I want to make the latter, but I might as well have it on one of the empty January pages of my book.

If I come your way to stay for a couple of weeks (or months) I will be ready to make lemon squares. I do go to the Larchkitchens.blogspot.ca for many recipes. Thank you Laynie Hicks for setting that up.

Arta

A Brilliant Sunday Morning Stroll

... on first arriving at the water ...
The people who walk on this cover are friendly.

Perhaps that is because of the shared joy of a quiet secluded walk along the beach.


On Sunday I met a man who asked where I was from.


“The prairies.”


I asked where he was from.
...the rock is under water, water so clear ...


He said he was born in Victoria, as was his mother.


“Must suck,” I said, “to be born somewhere where there is no better place to go.”


We continued to walk along the beach.


... this is the only duck of my usual 30 on the beach ...
Then he walked ahead and when I caught up to he had found a place on the beach where he could lean on a rock.


His heels were pushed into the sand and he laughed, and pointed to a piece of wood that was a pillow for his head against the rock.


I had seen him duck down as he had walked down the beach, and kind of look up at the ivy covered cliff there.


 I wondered what he was looking at.


... more of my beautiful beach ...
I was to find out in a short time.


I walked along the beach, watching my feet and then my head knocked into a tree that has grown out laterally over the water instead of up to the sun.


I have seen that tree before.


Even photographed it.


... seaweed left by the tide on the beach ...
But the tide has never been in so far that I had to walk to it, then under it, and then on again.


 Rebecca thinks I am going to get two black eyes over it, since there was immediate bruising in the inner corners of my eyes from my glasses.


I think the bluish colour there is only temporary



Arta