Mid-September. I’m anchored in a placid cove, the rain is gently pattering down. Darkness came early this evening. I tip-toed in through the narrow rocky entrance in the dark and now sit peacefully in less than twenty feet of water. I’m on my way to Silva Bay again to get the old diesel running in that little schooner. First I had to make repairs in ‘Seafire’ and spent two hours after arriving here contorted into the bilge repairing a leak in the shaft log. It’s fixed and I won’t have to sleep in a sinking boat. How do people manage in boats they can’t fix themselves? Well manage they do but I’m happy to be self-sufficient.
Back in Ladysmith the movie making is in full swing. The streets were crowded with people trying to catch a glimpse of something, anything and anyone. There was a movie to be made off-set of the crowds. I’m happy to be where I am tonight with the rain spattering down and an aromatic pizza bakes in the oven. Let it rain, let it blow, I’m snug in my little home.
A few blogs back I simply posted photos with interesting captions and guess what yer gonna git again. The feed-back was very positive and so here we go once more.
Wandering into the magic, and the mystic of late summer. It goes by so quickly.
Think you’ve got problems? Imagine owning this beautiful wooden monster. Imagine the boathouse!
No, not somewhere in Mexico but rather a campground on Gabriola Island. Please, no dog-washing!
An Australian Cedar. You know the joke: “Brace yerself Sheila!”
The bumper crop of blackberries this year far exceeded what people could pick. As the berries became over-ripe, bees and wasps became drunk on the fermenting berries. Now dessicated, the berries will provide excellent winter forage for the birds.
The bicycle remained secured to a stout chain with an old boot lace. However, the seat, the chain and both wheels had been stolen.
Long, long after the old tree had been cut down and hauled away, its progeny wash firmly established and thriving.
Resplendent in its ancient demise, the old charred cedar stump still reaches for the light.
Watching from the edge of the forest, wild creatures regularly surveyed what happened in the fields..
One day at the end of summer, the old swimming hole was suddenly quiet. its clear water was empty and ran placidly and pure.
Where dogs and children climb out of the water then leap, screaming with delight, back in again.
Well past middle age, he still looked at the wonders of the forest with the blue-eyed wonder of the boy he had been most of his life.
Abandoned in the forest, the old hay rake remained well spoken.
It’s just fungus man! Picked,baked in an oven then lit to smoulder, these make an excellent although pungent insect repellant.
I will strangle you, ya old stump.
A bumper crop of maple seeds and datum of the passing of summer.
THe way we were
The way we are
It was not a place to visit on a moonlit night yet during the day dogs and children loved to explore.
The old head rig stok like an abandoned neolithic alter where virgins were led to the top and then sacrificed by the big wheel shamans who cast them into the bottomless pit beneath.
It could be imagined that this donkey was descended from those used to haul loads into the sky on the big wheel.
An old coal chute in a back alley of Ladysmith. The date on the cast handle is 1895
TILT! A self-dumping log barge is pumped back to level in preparation to head back up the coast for another load. The logs will be sorted and the best will be reloaded onto a ship bound for Asia. Several ship loads of raw timber leave our coast every week. All the while, our sawmills are closed due to lack of a good log supply. You figure it out!
In morbid silence the crowd watched as the old woman was hoisted aloft with a noose around her neck. Then the rope broke and she silently walked away with her rope necklace through the opening which parted from her path because they knew, now, that she was indeed a witch.
I arrived in Silva Bay the following morning and rafted onto ‘Aja’ once again. A long day followed squirming my ribs into impossible spots freeing badly corroded bits, trouble-shooting wiring, clearing water from tanks and gearboxes. Finally the moment came, wires were jumped and blappety, blap, blap the poor mistreated little Yanmar sprang eagerly into life after a very troubled two-year sleep. Fixing boats is one of those things that you do, in part, because it feels so good when you’re done. My old bones protest loudly at the continuing abuse and it’s time to move on to other things. Maybe if I wash my face and hurry back to Ladysmith, those Paramount picture people might…! Uh huh.
Not sure what these gorgeous mauve flowers are, I was amazed to find them blooming on a path in mid-September. Old tales claim that new violets blooming in the fall herald a death or an epidemic.
And finally, a mobile phone still life.
“IF you smile when no one else is around,you really mean it.”… Andy Rooney