Old Sicamous Road Walk, Part 2

bear scat

I know Glen told me to look up, but there is so much that is interesting on the ground.

Hard not to have a discussion about the size of scat I see on the trail.

Is this really bear scat?

Cub or mother?

The answer to the question comes in the form of another question?

Is it large or small?  Are there cherry pits in it?

Yes.  And yes.

Since the scat is large, I have more reasons to call out "Go bear!" at intervals along the trail, as Glen does.

 ...under a mushroom crept a wee mouse ...

I have been seeing mushrooms everywhere -- probably because of the wet summer we are having.

Finding some shaped like round rocks, I lined them up, ready to have David find them and then throw them at me.

Though I have been out weeding the raspberries all morning and am tired, I can't resist teasing him as he walks down the road toward the house.

What are the chances that I could return the volley, hitting him right in the middle of the forehead, as though I had been practising my aim all morning.

The mushroom split and travelled in all directions, scaring him and making me wish I hadn't been quite so good with my aim.  

 ...50 year old moss growth ...

On the Old Sicamous Road Trail the moss formation on the rocks is incredibly beautiful and I find myself turning my camera lens to it a lot.

The trail to Sicamous is not well travelled so the feeling of walking where no man has walked before is there.

bee sitting on a chickory flower

Glen and I had a difference of opinion.

I call this flower Douglas Aster and he calls it Chickory.

I went to my BC Nature book for verification and I think we are both right and the flower can be called by either name.

I had no idea it was so hard to catch a bee on this flower -- nor did I have any idea that they stayed there for such a little time while gathering the honey.

Canadian Thistle

There was a china pattern called Russian Thistle when I was younger.

My Aunt Lenore had many pieces of it; my mother only had two pieces of it, a plate and a tea cup and saucer which I inherited.

When I see the Canadian Thistle growing along the side of the road, I think back to that time when its beauty was captured in a piece of English china.

I still love the look of it, and try to deny that leaving it there is going to cause me some trouble with weeding later in the summer.

Look up.  Look up.

At the end of the trail, there is reason to look up, for the neighbour's houses come into view -- a welcoming sight for foot-weary travellors. 

I run up the flight of stairs at the back of my house -- one last nod to getting morning exercise.