Gifts of the Day

Photo: Rob Dirk

Steps up to Arta's House

My day began with a walk up the trail by the Little Canadian Stream.

David Pilling and Glen have done a considerable amount of work making switch backs, taking out roots that might grab the shoe of a climber and making points of interest – one being a charming step that helped me to get across a log and another is the addition of small wishing well near the top of the trail.

Glen pointed out the old growth of Douglas fir, tall, unbranched boles reaching to the sky, only branched near the top of the tree. We saw a white pine and I wondered how he knew it was a white pine. “Because I am a forester,” was the reply, but he went on to say, “it will have the cones of the white pine at its base.” I am just going to have to remember where it was situated down by the stream.

I planted a black currant bush today, the start of which Moiya gave me in a bucket a few days ago. She bought a currant bush for she remembers her dad saying, “Come on and sit at the table with me, Moiya, and I will give you a taste of something that is so delicious.” In those days the jam came in an Empress tin with a pop of lid to which one had to take a knife to the rim. Glen helped me find a moist environment for the black currant bush since it likes water and shade. Glen promised me that the bush might give me one cup of berries out of which I might only be able to make that much jam for the year. One part of me thinks it is just easier to buy the jam.

I planted some spiny wood fern in one of the garden beds I have been preparing. Again, here is a little plant that loves the moisture and plenty of good earth. I am going to fill in the rest of the beds with wave petunias, the first time I will have ever bought them. A first for everything.

I weeded the raspberries at the road side edge of my house. The earth is wet and it is easy to pluck the lawn grass and the quack grass away from the stems of the plants. The CPR trucks come around that curve and hold to the outside of the road, pushing dirt up against the bushes, until there is a small rimmed step now – there is nothing I can do to undo the force of the wheels of those giant machines. I content myself to life with that little step, rather than try to rake the rim out.

Photo: Rob Dirk

Steps up to the Old Tree House

Glen thinks he has spotted the alpha crow of our area. Sometimes it hangs to the top of a giant Douglas fir, just making the top of the tree swing slightly. At dinner we saw the alpha crow swoop down on another crow – a territorial fight. Glen thinks he recognizes at least one crow on the property. It has an unforgettable gait for people who are crow watchers.

On the way home Glen showed me the lime green tips of the hemlock tree. “Beauty in every season,” he comments. We stop by his lilac bushes and then mine, the air redolent with their fragrance. I have a yellow lily, just one but many are budded a

nd waiting for their turn to be showy. As well The outer green leaves of a wine coloured peony are peeling back in my front yard. So there are my gifts for the day: walking, planting, smelling the Spring fragrances and watching birds.

Arta