The Generous Gardeners

... beans in an ice-cream bucket, ready to be snapped ...

Last summer, I was passing by the Pillings, noticing that Laynie was picking vegetables to cook for supper.

"Join me," she called. "There are plenty of beans for everyone."

I went searching under the leaves, and down low, finding all of the beans I could, and pleased that I could at least keep up with the picking speed of Laynie.

Then I noticed she was holding ice in one of her hands, on a burn she had picked up while she and Dave were looking at her car, checking the muffler.

So that makes me at least able to keep up with a one-handed woman.

The beans were beautiful.

 ... not quite shoulder length yet ...

They were so long that before I snapped them, I tried to get David Camps to wear some of them, as we had done earlier in the summer with cherries.

There was no way he would cooperate with me.

But he does have a trick of his own.

Wearing beans as one might wear a pencil ... behind the ear.

 ... bean as pencil ...

The Camps Family said they are enjoying the generosity of Dave and Moiya  Wood whose garden has come into full fruit -- tomatoes, beans, onions, beets, carrots -- a vegetarian's delight.

Pears from Wyona's tree, plums from the Pillings and the dahlias are finally in full bloom -- a veritable vegetable and flower harvest.

Who could have a better Thanksgiving?

Arta

Hello Bear, Hello Bear

Re scat identification:  if there are cherry pits, you probably have bear

A sighting of bear scat doesn't really count.

But seeing a real bear?

Yes.

That counts.

Moiya saw the first bear of the fall trying to climb into her black compost bin on Wednesday morning.  She also saw the mess the bear made around her apple tree -- getting ready for hibernating, I think.

I wish I had gone for a walk before she sighted the bear.  I just didn't have it in me to go for a walk after her phone call.

The bear was also sighted at Glen's hot tub -- "just a one year old" said Glen.  "No worries.  I just said go bear, go and he left."

More on Old Sicamous Road / Cross Country Ski Trail Walk

Our goal? To find samples of moss.

Tonia had never walked Old Sicamous Road Trail.

Friday morning seemed like the last chance to do so with her before she returned back to Manitoba.

Along the way are some incredible lake shots to be had.

The day before, she had been out capturing pictures of light on moss at Skunk Cabbage Reach of Campbell Stream.

I know that along the Sicamous Road walk are some pristine examples of moss on rocks growing there for at least fifty years or so -- large expanses of it

False Soloman's Seal

Joaquim and I joined her on the walk – later than we wanted to get away, but early considering that we had played bridge until well past 1 a.m.

The Old Sicamous Road / Cross Country Ski Trail begins by walking up Old Pillings Road to the Trans-Canada and then clipping along the highway until the passing lane ends.

Ten yards before the cement abutment ends are two carefully placed boulders, marking the place that hikers should hop the barrier and begin the Old Sicamous Road portion of the trail.

Baby Landon has done the walk twice – so if a stroller with good shocks can do the trip, so can a senior and two first-timers (Tonia and Joaquim). When two out of three people have cameras, there are multiple long stops.

I just saw that woodpecker a minute ago!

Tonia kept positioning herself for just the right angle.

She was leaning at a forty-five degree angle while sitting on a log, down on two knees and finally right down on her stomach, and noting that she still couldn’t get the camera to get an image that was right up the bell of the tiny blue flower she had spotted on the ground.

She had  better luck with the woodpecker she is catching here.

"However did you see that?", I asked.

"I heard it first," she answered.  "That tap, tap, tap, incessantly tapping."

Joaquim spotted a tree down on the power line, just as we were 50 yards or so from getting to the bottom of the Ski Trail – a place where the CPR has a marker with 489, a signal box and two propane tanks. We scouted out the position of the tree in relation to that spot and then determined to phone BC Hydro when we got home. I didn’t think about it again until just before leaving to the festival when I thought to myself, “I wonder which of us was going to make that phone call.”

“Can you describe the location,” the man asked on the phone.

At this point, I began to sound truly Sicamousian – you know, with phrases like, “ it is just before the tunnels”, “look half way between the ramp and Johnson’s point”, “a short way past the 49 sign”, or “just at the bottom of the ski trail”, segments of directions that are clear to me, but that wouldn’t mean much to the person on the other end of the phone who was saying, “Can you tell me where abouts this would be in relation to Pilings road”.

“Pillings”, I said, correcting him twice in the conversation and in that split second, also wondering, why is it important to me that he get the name of the road right, when all he is trying to do is get the exact location for his crew to come in and take care of the tree.

"Looks like the beginning of nature's teepee poles," said Joaquim

Wyona reported that the crew did come, and knocked on her door since I had explained to him that everyone else on the property would be at the Roots and Blues Festival.

The crew reported to her that they had enough information to get there from the information on the form they had been given, and judging by the length of the time it took the truck to leave the property, it took them some time to take care of the job. Nicely done, BC hydro, since the fear of fire was high given that in the last lightening storm, over 2000 strikes of lightening hit the ground between Sicamous and Salmon Arm – so someone reported.

And, speaking of Roots and Blues ...“How was the roots and blues?”, Joaquim asked this morning.

If a person didn’t have a ticket to go in, just a drive-by to see the art installation at the gate would not be a waste of gas. A lovely proscenium arch onto which had been hammer old trumpets, saxophones, trombones, flutes, guitars – it was all there.

But more about Roots and Blues later ....

Old Sicamous Road Trail, On the Road Again

...end of the Cross Country Ski Trail with the RR tracks in view...

I am trying to make Old Sicamous Trail by own by walking it until I know every curve and bend.

Last year was my first real walk along the trail.

To continue learning about it, my first walk of the year began by dropping by the Pillings House at 6 am -- hoping that Laynie could slip out for a bit of exercise with me before her baby woke up.

... over the stile ...

Landon was already up, as was Glen -- and Patrick and Morgan Carter, so away all of us went on the walk.

The group of us were walking as fast as possible along the Trans Canada until we came to a couple of large rocks will positioned on a highway cement abutment, a signal from Glen telling us that this was the spot where we should climb over the cement to the lake side of the road and begin our walk through the forest.

I thought this was the place that we were setting the pace for the whole trip, but that would come later, when Glen increased the speed so that he could be in front, even if he was lifting the baby over newly fallen logs or giving him a lesson in derby-stroller riding.

... look up, Arta, look up ... take off that hat and look up

Old Sicamous Road Trail is easy-peasy. The homeward walk, where we take the ski trail swiftly downhill involves deft manipulation of the baby's stroller.  "Look up, remember to keep looking up.  That is what they were always telling us in Forestry School," Glen kept saying.

It wasn't until I looked at this picture that I could tell why I wasn't getting that view he was always telling me to catch.

Impossible to keep a brimmed hat on my head and see the top of the tree cover at the same time!

This hat gets me full points when I got to the dermatologist and he comments on my perfectly preserved skin.  "How have you done it?", he asked

Yes, I think to myself, I have had that hiking hat on my head for the last 20 years, but I have been missing the view of the tops of the trees all of this time. 

The route on this day was a carefully timed walk.  There was no slowing us down!

 ... ya gotta love the good shocks on this stroller ...  now over we

No time for taking pictures.

No time for talks about mother logs nor for talking about the evidence of creatures in the forest.

Not even any time for a discussion about good hiking practice as in lectures about wearing sturdy shoes or keeping one's arms covered.

"You will know for next time what to wear," our guide says when anyone stops to nurse a blister or rub the sting out of a scratch.

...slow down ahead, boy ... we don't want a bear
to eat that tasty morsel you are pushing in front of you ... 

The truth is, I have been on this walk so many times this year ... this walk and other walks through the woods, and taken so many face plants because vines have trapped my feet when both of them wanted to get ahead and were wrapped in forest undergrowth, that I am getting new lenses on my glasses next week, ordered today because I have so many scratches on them.

"Don't you want to check my glasses to see how bad the scratches are?", I asked the technician today.

"Don't worry about taking them off to show us. We can see them here from the other side of the desk," the second woman responded.

... close to home ... and Landon has not so much as let out a peep

We made it all of the way to the Guest Register at the Sicamous End of the Trail, and then back again, taking the railroad tracks as the quickest way to get home and breakfast on the table.

... a sign alerting trail walkers of danger ...

Monotropa uniflora [Lt] / Corpse Plant / Ghost Flower / American Ice Plant
We know it as Indian Pipe

I've walked by this sign so many times -- always wondering who was there before me and asking myself what is the danger I am being alerted to.

There are parts of the trail where I want someone's shoulder ahead of me -- like the little crevices, deep from the overflow of spring water, of like the places where the tree branches not held long enough by the person ahead of me, slip back and lop me with their surprise swing.

And what is not to love about stopping by the Indian Pipe, bending down low and seeing if their beauty will come into focus for me.

That beautiful whiteness with the shades of grey is fading now -- spots of brown appear and the heads of the pipes are hanging low.

Signs that summer is on the wane.

The List for September

View of the Shuswap from Old Sicamous Road Trail

September is slowly crawling into full view: the LaRue AGM; then to hang out with Doral and Anita’s kids while the parents go to a conference in Vancouver.

What I want to do next is come back to the Shuswap for two weeks, for the end of September.

What is it that is stopping me?

In the back of my mind is that list of Neglect -- what it is that I haven’t done for fifteen years and that has risen to the top of the list and now is in not just in disrepair, but bordering on derelict—and that would be the sills of the windows at home which need paint.   

When Joaquim heard this he said, “I have an idea. Why don’t you pretend you are leaving here one week early, and on that day, give me the list of things you still need to do here, so I can get a handle on what those items ... are a little earlier than just 15 minutes before you leave.”   

Oh yah!  I always try to get it done myself, and failing that, the top five on my quickly scribbled and horrifyingly long list does get put in his hands.  For a starter, we dug up the geraniums that need to be kept alive over the winter (7 pots of them, instead of the 30 we tried to keep alive last year).  How is that for cutting back on expectations for next year.

Having made that list and having put it into his hands, I am now back in Calgary!

Three cheers for list making.  And still planning for one bullet trip back to the Shuswap.

Arta

Perseid Meteor Shower

For more information about the Perseid Meteor Shower check out:

http://www.cbc.ca/news/technology/story/2009/08/11/f-meteor-shower-perseids.html

The CBC gives an update to the Perseid Meteor Show, to be seen best on Saturday night, they say.

I love this book!
I have one copy in AB and one in BC

Before I left the lake a week ago, Wyona and I went to the Terence Dickenson Night Watch book to check out the dates on this annual meteor shower.

Have fun laying on lawns or standing on decks to see one of the sky's best shows -- though I shouldn't say that given that there is a good show every time the sun rises or sets.

Gaming

Settlers ... intense gaming

If there were a vote taken among the adults as to which is the best board game in the world, Settlers would be the winner.

What is a day without the hope that somewhere on the property, a Settlers game will be in progress!

The thrill of playing is so deep that some even continue the game of buying and selling commodities, well into their sleep patterns.

 ... chocolate covered blueberries as well as bridge mix ...

On the other hand, in other homes, ... like ours, ... if Bonnie puts out a few dishes like this, it is easy to entice the non-Settler players into a game of bridge.

I got my first small slam hand this way.

I forgot all about the Bridge Mix when I saw all of those points in my hand.

Now I know how golfers feel when they get a hole-in-one.

At our house we are trying to teach Joaquim to play to that we will always have a fourth ready -- at least ready enough to be the dummy.

He says he has no problem with that.

Most of the other PhD's he knows are also dummies.

... filled and waiting ...

I was on Glen's porch when I saw this rainbow of colours.

"That bucket of water balloons took us 1/2 hour to fill this afternoon and we are just waiting for the event when we will have to fire them," said Laynie of the job Patrick and Morgan had helped her with.

Bonnie and I played another kind of game on the porch with Audra while her mom was busy with Settlers.

 ... I am having a problem with you wearing my sweater ...

"Are you cold?", Bonnie questioned. 

"Do you want your sweater on?"

Getting no response, Bonnie then said, "I am cold and here is a nice sweater for me to wear."

Audra could see that Bonnie was having trouble putting the sweater on, and she went around to give her some help, pulling the side of the sweater around for her, and then helping Bonnie to put her hand in the tiny sweater sleeve that had become the object of our game.

She even tried to straighten it out and make it fit.

... figuring out the next move ...

Bonnie brought a new problem to Audra's mind by try extricate herself from the size 3 straight jacket.

Some sniffles and sobs from Bonnie made the task seem important and Audera came to Bonnie's rescue.

This might have been the first time in her day that she could see there was no one else around smarter than she.

She wasn't showing any confidence in the two adults on the porch with her who didn't seem to be that smart and needed help at every turn.

 ... I'm taking my tea set and sweater ... and going home ...

In the end,and after a lot of struggle, she got that sweater back in her own hands, the one she hadn't been interested in wearing herself.

She folded it up, gathered up her tea set that Grandmother Wyona had given her, and she headed back through the kitchen door to find some sanity.

"Goodbye, you dummies," the look on her face said.

And thus ended the best game of the day.

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.

Old Sicamous Road Walk, Part 1

Old Sicamous Road

Knowing that the most important job of every day is for me to have my exercise, and also knowing that I love those early morning hours, and want to use them  for intellectual endeavours, rather than physical exercise, I decided to take hold of myself and walk first thing in the morning, whether I want to or not.

 ...so glad I bought the  heavy duty stroller for the woods ...

I slipped into the Bates House to find a walking partner, hoping that Zoe or Charise would be up, but any house that stays up until 2 am every night playing family games, is not likely to have too many people wandering around at 6 am, wanting to walk before their day begins again.

“This couldn’t be true of a house where there is someone under one year old,” I thought, so I went over to see if Landon Hicks had woken anyone in his house.

Laynie was up, but not the baby, and though Glen encouraged her to take the run with me, the baby was awake by the time his mom had her running shoes on, so Glen suited up and off to the trail we went
Glen pushing the baby along the Trans Canada Highway until we came to the Walking Cycling Trail that follows Old Sicamous Road right into town.

The walk was equally enjoyable the next day.

Art bought me a telephoto lens for my birthday

Marcia joined us. 

I learn something new every time I walk the trail – and especially with an old forester.

Here is my laundry list of new things I saw along the way and new hints that Glen gave me to help me truly enjoy the forest. 

Art and Teague, fishing at 6 am

One is that if I take the walk early in the morning and look down, way down to the water, I might see Teague and Art in a boat, their fishing lines out on a beautiful morning.

You can see them in the lower left hand side of the picture, barely a dot on the water.

We stopped again to look at the barrier that Highways constructed about 20 years ago. 

There is a potential slide area, one where the rocks could come down and cover the railroad track.

highways slide barrier

Since there would be liability from highway construction involved if such a slide happened, highways constructed this barrier.

Stopping at this point to look up to the highway and then down to the water is well worth the time spent there, getting an idea of where the slide comes from and how it could impact the railroad below.

One of the signs that I have missed along the way is one that is high on the highway side of the trail, instead of down low, at eye level as the other signs are.

goat's beard

“You can see it up there, a little higher than the goat’s beard,” Glen said, pointing to where the sign was nailed, high in a tree.

Sure enough, the 3 kilometre sign was hidden way up where I would have never seen it.

We had a long lesson on the difference between step moss and pipe cleaner moss.

“I could remember the Latin names with a little refresher,” he said, “but you get the idea with the common names.”

step moss

The step moss can be separated into steps when you pick it up and try to see the real shape of it.  We stayed there for a while, trying to get a handle on the pipe cleaner moss that sticks straight up, comparing it to the step moss that separates out in layers.

We paused for a minute to take pictures at a place where someone has built a small wooden bench on a look-out that gives a good view up toward The Narrows, a place where all three of us had our cameras in hand.

The Indian Pipe was in large patches along the trail – not hard to see, if one would just look down, which is where I was looking most of the time, to keep my footing secure.

Look up.  Look up.

“Foresters are always told to look up”, said Glen, and indeed, he taught me how to see the difference between the cedar cover and the more mature Douglas Fir cover in the forest as we walked along, a new learning for me.

Subway Sandwiches

olives, tomatoes, ham & cucumbers for me

Subway Sandwiches a la Shuswap Style were provided by Doral and Anita provided this summer – one meal that should be a regular happening. 

Their children are already good at building the sandwiches.

David is also good at constructing these sandwiches, given the number of Subway Sandwich Collector bags he has in his possession.

I love these sandwiches

The Johnson kids can lay the cut buns out and get the right toppings for them like a breeze.

I am slower at making the choices and so was the third person out to the deck for lunch.

The tall table and stools have become the place where Meighan and David like to sit. 

Whose turns is it to begin the game?

Bonnie joined us and we played word games, ones that challenge the use of the letter “s”, or any other letter in the alphabet that might pose a problem for potential lispers.

As well, we played the game where everyone adds just one word to a sentence until a story is created.

The sandwiches were long gone and the game players were still happy – a good lunch when conviviality trumps getting away after a meal is finished – at least for five and six year olds.

The Fourth Annual Pig Roast, Part 2

finished roasting and resting before being carved

The Fourth Annual Pig Roast guests numbered 71 and came to the house in groups: 19 from the Bates house; 15 people were Richard and Miranda’s guests.  Mike flew in from Vancouver to do the honours at the cutting table. 

The Woods and Pillings came in double digits, bringing with them the cutest crop of babies under one year old.  The Robertsons and Camps-Johnsons were at the pig roast in smaller numbers, bringing with them robust appetites. 

Food was bounteous: baked potatoes with sour cream toppings containing lots of fat for those not on diets, and with minimal butter fat for those on diets.  Spinach salads, green lettuce salads and Caesar salads were replaced as the bowls emptied during the evening.  People who wanted carbs in their salads went to the Thai Rice Salad or the Italian Antipasto Salad.  A 24 inch Lazy Susan held the pickles, olives and hot peppers. 

I had done up 5 loaves of country seed bread and then moved making 5 more loaves of white bread.  But measuring the water in the wrong measuring cup, I accidentally doubled the white bread recipe – which made it possible for the bread to be cut in thick slices onto which butter could be spread.  My motto is that bread is only a vehicle on which to carry butter to one’s mouth, but I couldn’t carry thin slices out, for when the bread is hot, the slicing can’t be done thinly.  There is some bad news on the chutney front.  I can’t find the mango chutney recipe.  But Janet helped me bottle some plum, fig and orange chutney and it came in as a close second. Bonnie Wyora had done six 12 inch lemon tarts for dessert and those tarts made their way out to the porch and onto tables where people were already too full to go back to the kitchen for more.

With a touch of the hand, Mike pulling the leg away from the carcass

“The pig is finished, succulent and so tender that the leg is falling off,” called Mike.  “One hour for it to cool and we can begin to eat.””Sit right here and talk to me,” said Jay when his meal was finished.  So I drew my chair close.  Moiya joined me in a few minutes on Jay’s right side and then Wyona slipped into the room to tell Moiya that Michelle needed her in the kitchen. 

As soon as Moiya got up, and before she had begun to take one step away from the chair, Wyona slipped right under her to take her chair – at which point Moiya knew that Michelle didn’t need her, but only that Wyona wanted that chair next to Jay. 

Alicia and Chelsea in a photo opportunity

This old Pilling trick was the first of many that made Jay laugh until he finally said, “Oh, I haven’t had so much fun in years.” 

Wyona, Glen and Moiya were in the best of bantering forms.

 As Bonnie Wyora said afterwards, “When Jay is around, that is the closest we can feel to having Doral back in the room.” “Only one thing is wrong,” she remarked. “That special smell.  That is gone from him.  The farm smell.  I had to hug him twice to see if I could get it the second time, but it wasn’t there.”  Jay laughed to hear that.

Jay must be a bit off of his mark on one point.  Glen shook hands with him, bringing into the conversation Doral’s old joke:  what is it that men do standing up, women do sitting down and dogs do on three legs.  Jay couldn’t remember the answer.  He shifted uncomfortably, trying to find something to say.  Glen said, I don’t know what you are thinking, Jay but the Doral’s answer was, shake hands. 

That old joke of Doral’s must be the thing that initiated so many memories of the past for the rest of the day for me.  I watched family come in the door, plate up and then find a grouping or groupings where they wanted to sit for the afternoon. 

We could all remember things Doral had said about Jay.  For one thing, Doral told us that Jay worked at the race track, a place where the foulest of language was used.  “And yet”, Doral would say to us, “I have never heard Jay swear.  Never. The worst thing that would come out of his mouth is a soft ‘Scrud’.”  As well Doral used to tell us that a person could put a million dollars under Jay’s pillow at night, and in the morning, every cent of it would still be there.  Why would I want to say anything about the clean-up, but that part of any party can be hard, given all are tired by the time it begins.  But everyone seemed to rise to the occasion for there was no work to be done by the time I got to the kitchen.

Mike made the cutting table sparkle with warm water and soap.  “What causes trouble?  Bacteria and bits of food.  Get rid of that with warm soapy water and all will be well,” he said to me as he was sloshing soap and water on the table and enjoying the view of the lake at the same time.  That is the one part of the clean-up that I watched. 

a quick soda and then back to the hide-and-seek-game

To all ye who attended, no party is ever perfect, so in the comment section of this post, help out by commenting on how you think there could be an improvement at The Fifth Annual Pig Roast, schedule for the Civic Holiday Weekend in 2012. 
And of course, take this as your invitation to attend.

RSVP Arta at arta.blanche.johnson@gmail.com

In the meantime, wish that you could have been one of the happy group here, resting between rounds of a game where people were hiding behind trees or under ferns on the common property.

Waffles, Anyone?

Mmmm.

 I didn't hear cheers after the first morning of waffles.

I said to Bonnie, "I think I pulled a dud. Shall we try something else?"

"Maybe sourdough waffles every other morning."

"Maybe we have worn them out."

David chooses his food a different way.

His Doctor told him he has to eat my the colour code, so he works on how many colours he has had a day.

Waffles only provide red, and the interesting point that strawberries are the only fruit where the seed is on the outside and not at the core of the fruit.



Who wants to have my syrup instead of whipping cream?


We asked Doral at night.

"What would your kids like?"

"Are you kidding", he said. "Whatever you think was going on in their heads, I can tell you, if every morning isn't waffles, it will be a great disappointment."

So the jobs are distributed.

I make sourdough.

Doral slices cherries.

Anita whips cream.

Joaquim does dishes.

My third morning in a row

Strawberry / Cream / Sourdough Waffles

Today we went on the proposition that these kids want waffles every day.

Today was tutoring day.

A young girl comes for some reading tutoring and her father and brother and sister come along with her.

They brought along snacks, for mid-morning, but they were in time to join us for waffles
Thus, the waffles were spread far and wide -- no left overs.

So tomorrow?

Again?

Waffles!

Poor us.

Look down.

Down.

Down, for what you are missing.

Mmmm.

No ice cream on mine, thank you.

Recipe to follow on the blog shortly.

Just keep thinking sourdough.