Strange November Light

The cranberries have been harvested,  and it is a bumper year. This means fall is over and the November rains and winds are here.

It was a cold rainy day yesterday. It had rained hard in the afternoon. As soon as the rain slowed, I went for a walk along the dykes.

The light was beautiful. The sun came out low on the horizon, and illuminated the cloud enacsed fields. Glorious.

Sleepy Doormouse

Second to Last...

I am getting into the second to last phase of my time in Banff. Tomorrow will be my second to last Saturday, and then Sunday will be… well you get the picture.

I was thinking about how impressive Banff can be in the winter—actually any time of the year, really. But if you spend enough time in one place, even Banff, you stop seeing it. You stop being present.

I imagine this is why I like the idea of travel, not that I always get to actually do it. But it is very attractive to go someplace, for a short time, to be present without struggling. You can see everything for the first time.

Going home too, enables you to feel present, but for a shorter time.

Dispatch from Banff IV

Soon I will be leaving Banff and returning to Vancouver. It is nice to know that my time here is ending. I have enjoyed being here, I have skied (both Nordic and alpine), hiked-up a mountain, ridden a gondola, and steeped in the hot springs. I have taken advantage of the pool, free yoga, and mountain fitness activities. I have even curled, and tomorrow I will add a snow shoeing adventure to my list.

What I have found, is that no matter where you are, no matter how beautiful it all is, you eventually become used to it. I remember my first few weeks here, I was always stopping and looking up. My frequent stops would have been quite a hazard if the locals weren’t used to it. They just walk around you. Like they walk around the deer and the elk that line the streets some days.

A couple of weeks ago, I stooped taking photos, started walking around tourists and elk and deer. I had taken every photo that can be taken by a tourist. I had bought all the tolerable post cards. Even the night stars began to fade for me. That is sad. That is when it stopped being fun to be here.

Today, I booked my ticket home. Knowing that I am leaving has helped make the stars pop (as they say) and the mountains are once again, amazing.

Dispatch from Banff III

Last night the temperate increased by several degrees after days and weeks of temperatures sitting closer to minus twenty. I think I nearly suffocated in my bed last night, as the thermostat was set rather high, and when the outside temperatures went up, the heater started working.

The weather in this part of the world can change quite radically, especially if the Chinook winds come. I have heard that in Pincher Creek, Alberta, the temperature can go from minus-thirty to plus-ten degrees in under an hour. I can’t imagine what that would be like.

I read that the Chinook winds come from the warm ocean air from the Pacific Northwest. I find it almost poetic to think of how the winds traverse the mountains, to bring warm reminders of home.

I miss home. In my garden, spring has begun. The snowdrops are finished and the crocuses are nearly done too. The daffodils are getting ready to bloom. The garden needs manure, and the raspberry canes need to be pruned. Last year, I ate my first asparagus from the garden on April 5th.

It is hard to imagine spring will come to Banff. There are huge piles of snow everywhere and no sign that winter will ever end.

Mid-Point of my Banff Trip

It seems that I am almost halfway through my time at Banff. I wonder if, at the end of March when I am to go, there will still be snow on the ground? I hope not, I would like to see new life beginning before I go.

I would like to see more wildlife. So far, I have only seen mule deer, a mountain goat magpies and ravens. I have heard of elk sightings, but I haven’t seen any. I would really like to see a marmot and a mountain bluebird. I would like to see all the hibernating animals come awake, although I would like to see them from a safe distance.

Sometimes at night I can hear the coyotes, and people tell me about seeing wolves. I wish to see all these creatures before I leave.

Dispatch from Banff

Right outside my window, they tell me, is a swamp. I cannot see it for myself, because the swamp is covered in snow. But I can imagine there is a swamp because the trees are a little undersized and many are in the long, slow process falling over. Each year, the trees slowly fall over. Too slow to be visible, but I assure you, they are still falling.

There is too, the conifer trees that are not evergreens. They look like evergreens but they are actually larch trees in the needle-like drag of the conifer. A deciduous tree. A liar.

Last night, I saw a deer. It stood outlined by the light of the street. I stopped and stared at it for some time. It did not look at me once. This morning, I went on a hike, and I found large chunks of fur on the path. At first, I thought it was grass as it was short and the colour of dry grass. The texture also suggested dry grass, but when I touched it, I realized it was fur.

Short Ears

For the last three or so years, we have spotted a short eared owl prowling along the banks of the canals. The owl seems to appear in late fall and stay around until early spring. Unlike most owls, the short eared owl often hunts in the daytime. Sometimes, when we are walking along the bank, the owl will suddenly rise-up, right in front of us, and fly right over our heads.



For the last

Garlic: Phase 2

I just received some organic Russian red garlic. It has such beautiful cloves. large and tasty! I decided to plant most of the cloves in the garden, even though the ground is a little frozen. I am not sure how they will turn out--if they will turn out! Anyway, fingers crossed.

A Gardener's Lament

It is a sad time of year for a gardener. All around you is death. Sure, the optimistic people will take this opportunity to point out that spring will come, and a new season of gardening will arrive, and all that is dead will be born again. But right now, all I can see is death all around me.

When I look at my garden I see the skeletal remains of the bean house looming over me. All my dahlias are dead, they are blackened and leaning over some are lying prone on the ground.

I am pursued by regret. I should have picked their last flowers. Now, there are no more flowers left in the garden. What about my frozen kale, leeks and broccoli. Will they survive? Should I have covered them? Why did I fail them so?

I don’t deserve to be called a gardener.

My larder is empty. All the potatoes are gone. There is no more fresh fruit or vegetables to pick from the garden. I must now shop for my greens, and even in the stores, the only good choices are the cole crops and girl cannot live on cole alone. I know this because I have tried.

And the sky is grey.

The Winter Garden

Magpies

I spent most of December in Alberta. The ground was covered in snow and the magpies were darting around, their black wings against the white snow. People think they are a pest but I think they are grand birds.

Conversation II

After my mom died, my older friend said to me: "I have friends who say they miss their parents every day. I think this must mean I am not a good person, because I don't think of my parents much at all." Which of course is not true. She is the kindest person I have ever met.

So many people have told me about losing a parent. It is same for grief, child birth and dental surgery, as soon as people hear about you undergoing any of these events, they want to tell you their experience. Unlike dental surgery or childbirth stories, you are actually glad to hear from those that have undergone grief. They parcel out tiny bits of hope with each retelling. And I think it helps the listener and the teller. It begins the process of healing in the former and helps continue the healing process in the latter. So thank you for your stories.